The Real Joe Sixpack

Much has been written about the surprising—and even popular—nature of Trump’s presidential victory in 2016. Media consensus (and there has been a strong trend to uniformity in reporting) has been that white male lower-middle-class workers who once earned $25/hr at the local auto plant rebelled against twenty years of erosion in their standard of living as more and more manufacturing  jobs went offshore or to maquilladores in Mexico. While this us substantially true, a more sophisticated analysis appeared in yesterday’s New York Times. in a piece by Sarah Smarsh. For readers on the 90% of the planet who do not have NYT on your local news stand and don’t have a subscription to their website, I will try to paraphrase without infringing copyright and receiving a less-then-social visit from their stony-faced lawyers.

Smarsh rightly condemns the media for over-simplistic analysis of Trump support, arguing that he won among college-educated whites and women too. Rightly, she takes this further to condemn Democrats for their similarly simplistic analysis, which overlooks the erosion in their own support in those other areas.

It allows college-educated white liberals to signal superior virtue while denying the sins of their own place and class. And it conceals well-informed, formally educated white conservatives — from middle-class suburbia to the highest ranks of influence — who voted for Donald Trump in legions.

Such mis-identification is of particular importance over the next few moths in the run-up to mid-term election in November. The Democrats appear to be banking on a reaction to Trump and hi bull-in-a-china-shop tactics to sweep them back into power in both the House and the Senate, as if it were their inevitable birthright. But Ms Smarsh acknowledges the broader appeal beyond a unemployed guy with a tool belt. She also argues that this focus on the 90m whites who have no college degree plays into the hands of white supremacists and this leads to ugly scenes, such as South Carolina earlier this year. She claims several factors create a biased situation:

  • Barriers to voting
  • Different information sources
  • Populism on the left.
  • Pat narratives about  the working class

Ah hae ma doots. But the article does provide a timely wake-up call to Democrat campaign planners that this next election will not just fall into their lap, as many Republicans fear. And, while Republicans are well funded and deploy fearsome TV ads, their ground organisation is woeful; doorsteps and town halls are their weakness.

Ms Smarsh is right to see what is being labelled  “Trump Country”— the two dozen  overflight states like her own Kansas that are regularly painted solid red but voted up to 48% Democrat.

But, while she rightly identifies a much broader, overwhelmingly white audience for Democrats to convert, what is missing here—as from so many heartfelt, humane pleas for more outward-looking, equitable policies—is how to appeal to disaffected white voters, whether male or female, worker or manager that offers the hope and ambition that is a cornerstone of American culture. However erratic and insubstantial Trump may be, he speaks that language. Hilary did not.

Somebody needs to. Soon.

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The Emperor of DIT Has no Clothes

Dr Liam Fox has been Minister for International Trade ever since Theresa May bought his loyalty with the job two years ago. Just this weekend, he was tweeting proudly what a good job he and his 3,000 (!) staff have done. The substance was that we have record exports on his watch. Except,  the government’s own trade statistics disagree: trade ahs been flat for two years.

Each month, Britain exports around £31bn—rather overshadowed by £42bn in imports, giving a trade imbalance of £11bn, or some 36% of exports. Together with servicing debt of over £1.5tn, (118% of government revenue) such imbalance acts as a drag on the economy and on the value of the £. This drag has been slowing the economy for some time, Yet Dr Fox keeps quiet about it. Let’s look at how the (neutral) OECD evaluates Britain’s economic performance against its peers. Britain’s per capita GDP is $43,250 per annum. Not bad, but what about others? Germany’s is $50,649; Scotland-sized Denmark‘s is $51,496; Ireland‘s is $75,827 (Tory disparaging of Ireland has been notably absent of late.) Not much for Dr Fox to crow about there.

Maybe this is a vision of the future: what about OECD projected growth rates? Britain’s is 1.3%—hmm, better than we had been doing. For comparison: Germany: 2.1%; Denmark: 1.9%; Ireland: 2.9%—all significantly better. (Even for government debt: Germany 79%, Denmark 82%; Ireland 52% vs Britain 118%))The same is true for unemployment, social disparity, in fact by any measure that you might want to evaluate success or prosperity or even happiness of European countries.

It should come as no surprise to those who have witnessed the Brexiteers behaviour over the last two years that hard, objective, statistics that might disturb the eyes-wide-shut mantra they have been peddling gets short shrift. Evidently we have things to learn fro  our neighbours. Cutting ourselves off from them makes no sense.

But that toom tabards like Liam Fox think they can blow soapy bubbles and call them statistics shows just how deep in soapy bubble their political careers are in as the whole foundation-less edifice of their “Brexit Bonus” wobbles about their ears.

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West of Eden

Sitting in the shade with a hundred other Bavarians and visitors outside the Nurnburger Bratwurstglockl in the heart of Munich, enjoying helles bier in 30 deg heat, a pile of bratwurst and street entertainment in equal measure, it is hard not to see the world as idyllic and lfe rich and fulfilling. Any untraveled Brits who think of Germans as cold and humourless have never met any Bavarians. The entire Altsdadt (city centre) is an exercise in how to make a largely intact medieval street warren into a sprawling human-friendly popular venue. A personal tragedy for me is that my home city of Edinburgh, although twinned with Munich for the last 50 years, seems to have learned nothing in this regard. Coming here, it took the X100 Airport “Express” bus 15 minutes to clear Waverley Bridge.

In my half-dozen conversations with locals so far, nobody seems to know or care who Boris Johnson or even who Theresa May is. But they do know about Brexit.  Amd there is a common theme—somewhere between disappointment and anger. The disappointment comes from the Germans feeling that, apart from the French (when it suits them), the only allies they have in the EU against the profligacy of the PIGS are sensible northerners like Holland and Sweden—and until recently, Britain.Rather than us taking our train set home in the huff, they would rather we had joined with them to pick up dissolute southerners and Brussels bureaucrats by the lapels and made the made the EU better.

What this means for the long term is anyone’s guess, but the chance that even the Germans are likely to allow the pick ‘n’ mix of May’s White Paper to get very far (assuming the Jacob Rees-Muggers don’t already assure it is still-born at Westminster) is slim to the point of vanishing to zero.

Which effectively means a hard Brexit with no deal. This may be raw meat to May’s boisterous back benches, nobody here in Germany seems happy with such an outcome. They are fully aware that AIrBus Siemens and a boatloads of car/components manufacturers will lose money, business and momentum. But the Germans are sticklers for doing things right. They will deal with ‘no deal’ with the same calm efficiency that made them world-class manufacturers and rebuilt shattered cities to a standard we can only envy.

And take no comfort from the Brexiteers bluster that “The EU sells more to the UK than we sell to them”. Look at it in proportion to the 60m Brit, compared to five times that number in the EU and you realise they have the clout to find other markets easier than the UK will.

So I am here, enjoying my beer and wurst while I can still afford them, Once the Little Emglander tail has finished wagging the Conservative dog, they will eventually be proved right about an influx of foreigners, But these will be affluent EU citizens with Euros to burn in the low-budget third-world island just 30 km offshore.

 

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Single Deck Shuffle

Last week First Minster Nicola Sturgeon announced a major reshuffle of her Cabinet, extending it from 10 to 12 ministers. The unfortunate rammy over some ill-judged remarks made by Gillian Martin before she became an MSP derailed her appointment as Minister for Further Education, Higher Education and Science . This event illustrated the fineness of the behavioural mesh that all public figures are required to pass through. Ms Martin now accepts that blog posts she made in 2007 were “inappropriate” but the real irony may be that she was railing against excessive political correctness. That, and the fact that media turnover-boosting darlings like Boris Johnson and President Trump get away with it by already being famous, and therefore not so expendable.

Even more unfortunate was that red-top rags devoted themselves to excoriating Nicola Sturgeon so venomously that sober analysis of the major reshuffle was confined to more serious publications like the Spectator or Guardian. But even they failed to get under the skin of what is actually going on, After the departure of Wur Eck, the SNP was run by a tight-knit quartet: Nicola, backed by husband Peter Murell, as Chief Executive and with deputy Stewart Hosie MP, Westminster Leader and husband to Health secretary and Nicola’s close friend Shona Robison. This cosy arrangement fell apart when Stewart was caught having an affair. For Shona, this, a health scare, losing both parents and vicious attacks by opposition health spokespeople, put her under intolerable pressure. Shona is a decent and hard-working sort but was in the thick of it all 19 years, the last 11 in the Cabinet. Her resignation deserved plaudits and gratitude for her service. But politics is a dirty business.

Nicola is a doughty leader, handling herself well in parliament and press. She has not managed to shake off her ‘nippy=sweetie’ sobriquet from earlier times and not quite managing to achieve the engaging ‘cheeky chappie’ appeal of her predecessor. Her leadership is unassailable; a reshuffle now makes eminent sense. Yet the the reshuffle shows how how thin the available deck is. The pool of experienced talent in which she  can draw is shallow. There are basically four types of colleagues she can draw on:

  1. Old Guard who have mostly  held senior spokespeople since 1999
  2. Time Servers whose pqrty profile put them high on regional lists
  3. Technocrats whose work for MSP/MPsMEPs found reward
  4. Young Turks mostly swept in with the stunning 2016 intake and WFI

The previous Cabinet was Old Guard, with  junior ministers drawn from Time Servers. All parties reward blind loyalty; the SNP is no exception. This, however, was time for change, as progress on anything of significance has become rare.

Old Guard lost from the Cabinet are no real loss.  Angela Constance has a good heart but little traction. Annabelle Ewing was lazy, contributing none of her mother’s charisma or dynamism. Keith Brown did carry his weight but is not lost; he’s taking on the un-sexy but vital campaign organisation brief, just in time to get serious about elections in 2020. But some Old Guard cling like leeches: Fiona Hyslop has tried (and failed) several jobs; former colleagues at Standard Life are unsurprised at this. Roseanna Cunningham displays all the people skills of the Berlin Wall and Fergus Ewing wasted more time than his sister to prove himself a toom tabard (why he should replace the quietly competent Richard Lochhead is a puzzle). All three remain on the strength of their party base alone but are overdue their jotters because the Cabinet (especially) can’t afford passengers.

John Swinney stays at Education, despite reneging on his much-touted Bill. He always was a steady pair of hands, with his bank manager stability. The trouble is that he was steadier (and far more credible) at Finance than Derek Mackay. Derek is a capable amalgam of youth, presentation, manipulation and ambition. That makes him tactically astute but strategically myopic. Adding Keith’s economic brief spells weakness and trouble for the Scottish economy. Long-term goals and infrastructure will be sacrificed to short-term headlines. On the plus side is the re-appearance of Michael Russell. He may have an ego the size of a planet but he sounds, looks and acts like a senior politician, a combination in short supply across the Parliament—especially among Labour.

As for the rest of the Cabinet, Young Turk Humza is a pretty boy yet to show depth, which means he will struggle at Justice—especially with Kenny MacAskill’s messy legacy.. He swaps Transport with Michael Mathieson. This brief gets passed around like a bad-smelling fish supper: i.e. a career graveyard,  Another Young Turk Aileen Campbell shows promise but has yet to develop depth and capability,  suffering a touch of the “Kezias” = promoted too fast too soon. The most promising of the Time Servers is Shirley-Anne Somerville, still young but a campaign veteran, with a capable “nippy-sweetie” demeanour reminiscent of the younger Nicola herself. She takes over the tough Social Work brief from the very capable Jean Freeman at Health and Sport. Jean is just the kind of straight-talking, clear-seeing, hands-on stable-cleaner the struggling, high-profile NHS needs. How she performs will be pivotal.

Incidentally, you may wonder why a parliament of only 129 members would need a Cabinet  of 12, with 11 other ministers. That’s 37% of the 62 SNP MSPs with a ministerial job but Westminster has 118 ministers, giving them a similar 37% of 316 Tory MPs.

As for Junior Ministers, we now have a mix of Time Servers and Young Turks. Kevin Stewart, Joe Fitzpatrick, Christina McKelvie and Graeme Dey are still at their posts, having done little but nurture their party base and deliver rent-a-quote questions on cue at FMQs. Only Paul Wheelhouse has shown promise, but his Borders base is weak in SNP terms, giving little leverage within the party.

The balance are almost all Young Turks—unknown quantities first arriving in 2016. This means they owe little to sclerotic party structure beloved of the Old Guard and Time Servers. Here is where Nicola’s hope must lie. Her Government is still popular but running on air. The Parliament is seen as increasingly irrelevant by even politically savvy Scots. For years few debates or laws have grabbed headlines, let alone sparked imaginations. Scoring points in the Chamber has become irrelevant. If  Young Turks decline to be satisfied with business-as-usual that could be a game-changer.

Ash Denham (along with Jean Freeman) showed promise in the Yes and WFI campaigns such that she won Kenny MacAskill’s old seat.  But her brief of Community Security and a stint working for Fiona Hyslop may blunt that promise. As Minister for Trade, Investment and Innovation, Ivan McKee holds a key brief and comes closest to qualifying as a Technocrat. Given his head, his business and international experience could light some economic fires. But whether the career-canny Derek Mackay will permit that and whether the good people of Glasgow Provam re-elect him are major unknowns. The spirit of the much-missed Margo Macdonald still stalks the Parliament. But whether these two or any other Young Turk becomes infused with it will take guts—neither Nicola Sturgeon nor Johm Swinney could abide her free spirit. But the punters loved her.

The one thing that this reshuffle highlights is the shallow nature of the talent pool into which Nicola can dip. Alert readers will have noted scant mention of Technocrat—people offering deep knowledge and/or experience of key fields: business, education, finance , technology, etc. Such as the party once had were sidelined by ambitions Old Guard and Time Servers. This reshuffle could do nothing about redressing that. But this must change—not only to widen vision with fresh ideas to deserve power, but to find the far more visionary ones necessitated by independence.

For reference, Cabinet members, Ministers and their respective posts are listed below.

Cabinet

The Cabinet is the main decision-making body of the Scottish Government. It is made up of the First Minister, all Cabinet Secretaries, Minister for Parliamentary Business and Permanent Secretary. The Lord Advocate may also attend in his or her role as the Scottish Government’s principal legal adviser. Cabinet meetings are held weekly during Parliament in Bute House, Edinburgh, and may also be held at other times in locations throughout Scotland. The Cabinet consists now has 12 members, still gender-balanced:

Ministers

Cabinet Secretaries are supported by Ministers. Responsibilities and biographies of Ministers, including the Lord Advocate and Solicitor General (who are also the principal legal advisers to the Scottish Government), are below.

  • Minister for Parliamentary Business and Veteran
  • Paul Wheelhouse MSP Minister for Energy, Connectivity and the Islands
  • Ash Denham MSP Minister for Community Safety
  • Maree Todd MSP Minister for Children and Young People(Awaiting Appointment) Minister for Further Education, Higher Education and Science
  • Kevin Stewart MSP Minister for Local Government, Housing and Plannin
  • Jamie Hepburn MSP Minister for Business, Fair Work and Skills
  • Joe FitzPatrick MSP Minister for Public Health, Sport and Wellbeing
  • Clare Haughey MSP Minister for Mental Health
  • Ben Macpherson MSP Minister for Europe, Migration and International Developmen
  • Christina McKelvie MSP Minister for Older People and Equalitie
  • Ivan McKee MSP Minister for Trade, Investment and Innovation
  • Kate Forbes MSP Minister for Public Finance and Digital Economy
  • Mairi Gougeon MSP Minister for Rural Affairs and the Natural EnvironmenJames
  • Wolffe QC Lord Advocate
  • Alison Di Rollo Solicitor General
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The Bedrock of England

Down the years, I have spent many a pleasant week visiting friends in Norfolk. At over two hours from London by fastest train, it is mercifully still relatively unspoiled by the explosion of building, crowds and traffic that is London and its commuter belt. But, until this month, I had not spent more than the odd day in North Norfolk, the bucolic quilt of farm and village, forest and field that rolls over fifty miles between Norwich and The Wash.

The first thing to strike you is how ageless it seems. A myriad of small villages each have their own quirky character in flint brick and tile roof as they cluster around village churches mostly built by Normans and Angles and straggling down Street patterns that date from the Doomsday Book. But partly because this was once the richest Dukedom in England and partly because the royal retreat on Sandringham is slap in the middle of it, the villages are interspersed with sprawling country estates like Holkham and Houghton and up market villages like Great Wasingham that are almost Chelsea, grafted onto a rural setting.

MapNNorfolk

Map of North Norfolk—Hardly a Town or A-Class Road in Sight

The only town of any size is Fakeham, which provides the local supermarlet but barely reaches 7,000 population. Spreading out from there in a bewildering spider’s web of narrow and unsignposted back roads that are a joy to explore. You might come across Lord Nelson’s home hamlet of Burnham Thorpe or the Wells and Walsingham Light Railway, or the church at South Creake whose ‘new; cei doling was painted to celebrate Agincourt.

BlakeneyPier

The Pier at Blakeney

But my favourite part is that coast—unlike the rocky coast here in East Lothian and even the straight shingle and low cliffs all the rest Of Norfolk, this shore is more of a puzzle then the web of black roads. Beaches can be huge, as at Holkham. Wells-Next-The-Sea and Cleys-Next-The-Sea are ports, but misleading misnomers, for the lie over a mile from open water, up tortuous channels that need to be dredged to keep then open. In between are endless expenses of salt marsh, crisscrossed my tidal channels, navigation is documented only in local folklore.

For the less adventurous, the truth of such folklore are available fresh in the local restaurants. You can even pick up a deliciously fresh dressed Wells crab for as little as £4 on the quayside there. And if you should get talking to people there on the pier, whose business take them there every day, don’t be deceived by their slow accent and think of them as bucolic throwbacks. Watch instead the steady eyes; feel the firm handshake; sense the ready warmth and humour. At the market, in the pub or working the fields, these people are as deeply and organically rooted in this placeas their churches and their houses. They are still the yeomen bedrock on which England was built.

BlakeneyBoat

Exploring Blakeney Marsh on Coastal Advenure Co’s Restored Norfolk Fishing Smack

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The Bottle of Britain

In all this unseemly scrabbling for political lifebelts by the UK government as the  rudderless SS Great Britain rushes ever nearer the Falls of Brexit, there is little manifestation of either the Dunkirk Spirit or the stiff upper lip or the unsinkable Jolly Tar who built an Empire with their bare hands and held on to it in its darkest hours. For that is not the Britain that the brexiteers are burning to create. What they seem to want is some global version of Del Boy— an amalgam of Canary Wharf with Open All Hours.

There is nothing wrong in creating well through enterprise. Capitlaising on the opportunity of Empire, Scots parlayed themselves into the richest country in the world in 1910. The IFS has now taken a jaundiced view of the Sustainable Growth Commission’s recent economic projections for an independent Scotland. They pours cold water on the likelihood of achieving such economic greatness again. In fact, they predict the need for commenting austerity for at least the next decade.

Is this all of which we are capable? A country that explored the world, invented the agricultural and industrial revolution, spawned successful countries like the USA, Canada and Australia, established the planet’s first lingua franca is reduced to a has-been with a penurious future? It is true the Great White Queen no linger paints the globe pink, that we no longer manufacture steel and shirts and ships for the world.

Have the Scots no option but to join in the traditional Tory dirge of “too wee, too poor”, sung to the tune of “Rule Britannia“? Hell, no!

Those Scots who have raised their eyes beyond the myopia of Little Englanders to how small countries like Norway, Ireland and Singspore have fared since parting with their colonial masters (in  1903, 1922 and 1961, respectively would learn that their first decade did not overflow with riches. But any plebiscite to return to the mother country held now would fail to gain any support. In fact, no countrry, once freed, has sheepishly asked for readmission.

Hardline Brexiteers want Britain out of the EU because they claim it will release trade and enhance affluence. But they are in a time warp when Britain still had the global clout to deal from a position of strength. Britain has no strong card to play in the poker game of global trade. But Ireland has parlayed EU bases for multinationals, Norway has parlayed oil, Singapore has parlayed Asian financial service and shipping hub into prosperity Britain now envies.

What Tories, the OBR, the IFS and other naysayers all assume is that an independent Scotland would simply continue as an unimaginative branch office of the sclerotic sate that Chancellor Brown led us into 1997-2010.

What if Scots revived the pride and entrepreneurial magic of a century ago and exploited similar niches. What if we made Weir Pumps into the global powerhouse for high pressure engineering that Apple is for smart electronics? What if we cornered the market on tidal and wave power, as well as wind? What if we exploited the imminent loss of the Arctic  ice sheet by seeing Scapa Flow as the obvious trade trans-shipment hub for transpolar traffic to/from China?

What if, instead of wresting over the same inward-looking fixations as the English like waiting times, train punctuality and  airport runways, we raised our eyes, not just to independence, but what we could DO with it? What if we tapped into the guts and vision of the Glasgow tobacco barons who made their city famous? What if we tapped into the imagination of ship architects who made the country famous? What if we said, politely, to our uncollegiate southern cousins: “thank you for three centuries of profitable and proud partnership but we are off to join the world again”.

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The Ruth, The Whole Ruth & Nothing but The Ruth

Today’s Prime Ministers Questions did nothing but compound the outrage I already felt over the manner in which any chance of debate on the effect of Brexit legislation on devolution was last night filibustered into oblivion my the government. When John Bercow ejected Ian Blackford for insisting on a vote during PMQs and the whole SNP group followed him out, Tory accusations that this was “a stunt” added insult to injury.

The whole tasteless affair had me fired up to blog about it. But, fortunately, before I got far with my fizzing response, I came across a much more powerful and measured piece from Ruth Wishart. She is a doughty, dependable and insightful observer of the Scottish scene and I thoroughly recommend that you read her piece.

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Blonde Ambition

Thought I am far from the first to see major similarities between the ever-ebullient BoJo and The Donald, there is much more to be learned from the pair of them about modern politics than the PR value of a prominent thatch of golden locks. Though widely diverse in background, they have each taken to the rise in sound-bite journalism and the decline in stoically noble professionalism in politics. They are as far from Churchill and FDR as the National Enquirer is from the TLS.

But politicians are products of their times. Edward I is rightly seen as the founder of the successful English state—even thought the Welsh and Scots of his time might raise furious objections. As with fashion, sport or business, the day-to-day of politics is shot through with conventions, in order to function smoothly. Which gives rebels a chance to break fresh ground, whether it be business suits for women or introducing the back flop to the high jump.

As Mayor of London Boris turned breaking the mould into his calling card. Whether introducing Boris bikes or waging a war on /bendy buses’, he made a point of being consistently in the Evening Standard’s front page. That the Standard isn’t read outside London was irrelevant because the movers, shakers and voters he wanted to reach all lived within commuting distance. Since the Brexit issue came along, Boris has surfed it like a pro, cultivating popularity with juicy misdeeds, rascally enough to attract press but not sufficiently outrageous to derail his career by getting his jotters.

Similarly, The Donald was brought up by his tycoon father to value the ‘Art of the Deal’—and not to be too squeamish who got hurt in the process—provided it wasn’t you. The sheer space of America created the snake oil salesman, trading on the naivety that comes from isolation. But Donald and his ilk realised that the ever-increasing complexity of modern life created similar (but much more lucrative) opportunities to hoodwink existed among city dwellers.

But BoJo and The Donald share much more that a thatch of blond hair, a bottomless well-spring of chutzpah and a neck-less-wrestler build that male me glad they were never opposite me as prop forwards in the rugby scrum. Though each would doubtless protest high moral standards in all their (frequently abrasive) dealings, both have exercised highly elastic interpretations of acceptable behaviour when it advanced their ends.

BoJo’s disarmingly buffoonish demeanour conceals a tactical shrewdness in calculating the degree of outrage he can get away with. He was elected President of the Oxford Union by downplaying his Bullingdon Club credentials and masquerading as a Social Democrat. When he wrote for The Times, he fabricated quotes, including one from his own godfather, a famous archaeologist.

As a journalist in Brussels, he was one of the greatest exponents of fake journalism“, Chris Patten on BJ’s stint reporting on the European Commission for The Daily Telegraph 1987-94.

The Donald’s fortune was started by his German immigrant grandfather, who made a bundle out of  the Klondike gold rush and augmented by some hard work and shrewd dealings in building housing in New York City, mainly in Queens. When The Donald took over in 1971, he switched into redeveloping skyscrapers in Manhattan. This proved to be  as good a move as his later investments in Atlantic City casinos would prove to be bad.

The latter would prove to be the stuff of legend, other rich investors like Carl Ican, po-faced legal teams and tortuous financing of a dizzying array of company names.  Despite plastering the Trump name all over  properties he owned (and leasing it to many he didn’t), he managed to walk blameless from the collapse of the Trump Plaza Hotel and Casino that left hundreds of contractors and suppliers stiffed and 1,300 employees out of a job.

The lynch-pin of all his businesses was supreme belief in himself and his ability to strike stupendous deals in a one-to-one environment. During the ‘Greed-Is-Good’ 1980’s, this worked for him. Indeed Rolling Stone magazine claims the iconic figure of Gordon Gekko in Oliver Stone’s Wall Street was modelled on The Donald. While self-belief and selective aggression give clear advantages in business negotiation, the moral dimension plays less of a role, partly because it is less in the public eye than in politics.

But even his private life shows the same flexibility of morals. He met his first wife, Ivana (a Czech model in New York for a fashion show) by offering to get her a table at Maxwell Plum’s Upper East Side restaurant. She said to the rest of her party: “‘The good news is, we’re going to get a table real fast. The bad news is, this guy is going to be sitting with us.’ ” They married a year later. But The Donald had a well documented history of infidelity. One of the women with whom he was unfaithful was Marla Maples, whom he regularly spirited away to Atlantic City and eventually become his second wife. That lasted less than 4 years before he met Slovenian model Melania Knauss, during New York Fashion Week. As he recalled “I went crazy, I was supposed to meet this supermodel but I said: ‘Forget about her. Who is the one on the left?‘”

I do receive Holy Communion…but do not ask God for forgiveness“.  —Donald Trump

Although there are clearly huge differences between our two blonde subjects, what is most revealing are their shared characteristics of self-belief, shamelessness and an ability to read the times and act accordingly  to further their own self-interest. Western culture has traditionally praised the hard-working, self-effacing, principled hero, whether in a film like High Noon or Barack Obama’s humanity or Princess Diana’s charity work. But we are in a new politics for the 21st century. The idea of Lord Carrington resigning as Foreign Secretary for misjudging Argentinian intentions in the Falklamds seems quaintly Victorian.

Like  Kim Kardashian, who realised that, once you are famous, you don’t actually have to do much to stay famous, our twin sons of different mothers on either side of the pond have twigged that in politics:

  • media is king for anyone building a career
  • media loves controversy, especially among recognised names
  • controversy need not be profound (and thus career-threatening)
  • populist positions need not be intellectually sound or even consistent
  • positions can change because media memory is short

It could be said that people like BoJo and The Donald don’t play by the rules. But there is no common agreement on what the rules are—and  unwritten conventions change over time anyway (see Lord Carrington above) and the above bullets may be the new code of conduct. Perhaps our brace of egotists are simply early and effective exponents of what will chatacterise politics in the future: easily recognised, teflon ego-ed media magnets with more incommon with rock stars than sober-suited pillars of the community..

“And the megalomanic shall inherit the earth…”

 

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We’re On the Way

Regular readers will know, I am no fan of London’s offering in airports and the services they provide. Fresh from yesterday’s Commons mauling over Northern & GoVia’s inability to run a railroad, UK Transport Minister Chris Grayling will barely have time to change his shredded shirt before he’s thrown to the lions again today, this time to argue for approval of a third runway at Heathrow.

It’s fair to say there has been some dithering over this, not least because BoJo (ever on the qui vive for a headline) threatens to lie down before the bulldozers. The arguments are complex but what is clear is that air traffic is expanding and Heathrow can’t cope with what it has now. But the problem is not just one of landing slots. Heathrow may be the worst designed airport on the planet, a Heath-Roninson affair of tacked-on afterthoughts that exposes transferring passengers to quarter-hour bus rides through its entrails. The M4/M25 is a car park, the Tube takes forever and guards on the Heathrow Express yell at you foe being on the worng train. Look at any modern airport (Atlanta Hartsfield or Amsterdam Schipol) to see how this should work.

It is fair to say that alternatives are not easy to find. Gatwick lies on the ‘wrong’ side of London to service the North. Stanstead has capacity but poor links to the Midlands and West. The main argument for Heathrow seems to revolve around its use as a hub and sees itself competing with Frankfurt, Copenhagen and Dublin in this regard.

Dublin?!!

Yes, Dublun. Some tine ago, Ireland noticed all those vapour trails from transatlantic airliners crossing their skies. Their government invested £2bn modernising the airport, including a second terminal. They are about to invest a further £300m in a second runway. This is not just Irish pork barrel usung EU money. They worled out they were 500km closer to major American airports and could slice an hour off the flight time to any of them. Iceland has been doing this for years but Keflavik can no longer compete with Dublin’s facilities and selection: some of the most competitive fares to the US are on Aer Lingus via Dublin.

Astute readers may have noticed the absence of my usual shilling for Scotland in this piece but here it comes. Despite Heathrow arguing it is best placed from serving the North, recent Commons studies show third runway benefits are limited to the Southeast of England. Currently, most Scots flying to the States must go to Heathrow, faff about for 2-3 hours, then find themselves flying over where they started from, but half a day later.

Like Ireland, we are on the way there. What if they could fly direct? What if there were an air hub in Scotland to rival Dublin or even Schipol? A full-scale international airport on the carse between Airth and Larbert would be easily accessible from all over Central Scotland and lie at the heart of the ScotRail EGIP project and the M9/M80/M876 complex. Glasgow, Edinburgh, Falkirk and Stirling would lie 20 minutes away. Poky second-rate EDI and GLA, with their ludicrous competition with each other, would be obsolete. Instead of the odd flight to Newark that Edinburgh offers, Dublin flies seven major US cities and offer border pre-clearance to speed arrival in the USA. Scotland lies even more favourably than Dublin on the key Great Circle routes to America’s West Coast.

GreatCircle

Great Circle (Red Line) Is Actually Shortest Distance to USA West Coast

Instead of wasting £16.5bn trying to shoehorn another runway into the traffic mess that is West London, a full-scale airport could be built at Airth for a third of that. Instead of LNER and Transpennine shlepping Scots south to Manchester and Newcastle to catch planes, more Northerners would find it easier to reach Scotland and same time catching flights there by avoiding the chaos of Heathrow,

Of course, Home-Counties-fixated Tories are unlikely to see the advantages for all in this. Perhaps it would take an independent Scotland to capitalise on the future the way the Irish are already doing.

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Our Clowns Are Back

SOS Puffin is a volunteer project sponsored by the Scottish Seabird Centre which started in 2007. It aims to bring under control the invasive plant tree mallow which had taken over the islands of Craigleith and Fidra, threatening important populations of nesting puffins—small seabirds known as “Clowns of the Sea” and locally as “Tammy Norries”.

Since 2007, John Hunt has organised and led 165 trips to Craigleith and 88 to Fidra with up to 11 other volunteers at a time spending a day clearing the plant. Known locally as ‘Bass Mallow’ the plant is a giant relative of the geranium, growing over two metres tall with a woody stem thick as a cucumber.

Originally thought to have been brought from the Mediterranean by lighthousekeepers on Bass Rock, it was grown for its large soft leaves— an emergency reserve of toilet paper against the supply boat being held up by storms. In its second year of growth it flowers, showering prolific numbers of small black seeds.

Eaten by birds, these were carried to nearby islands. That was not a problem until native rabbits there were wiped out by mixamatosis, whereupon it got a hold, especially on soil-rich Craigleith and the flatter parts of Fidra—both former rabbit warrens more recently colonised by puffins.

Puffin&Mallow

Puffin Among Young Mallow

Ten years ago, with puffin numbers falling, it was realised that by growing in dense stands and favouring loose soil at the mouth of each puffin burrow they were ‘prison bars’ preventing entry and even restricting where puffins could land.

John recruited a veritable army of volunteers (now 650), engaging Tom Brock (SSC) and Colin Astin (Seafari) to support and transport squads of volunteers outside the summer nesting season. Armed with loppers for the large plants and strimmers for the seedlings, John would lead each RIB-load of 12 to tackle a new stretch of vegetation, following his multi-year plan.

By 2010, the fully-grown stands were gone and they are now dealing with odd remote clumps and the army of seedlings that return each season from the millions of seeds still in the soil. Rabbits that have reestablished themselves on Craigleith are helping.

PuffinGroup

Given Space, Sociable Puffins Gather in Groups

Though the puffins are never likely to thank John, the sight of ranks of them lining the cliff tops as they socialise again is reward to many. The mallow-bashing season is over for another year but if you catch him in the street, be sure to thank him on Tammie Norie’s behalf.

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