Creating a Desolation

Last week, just before Valentine’s Day, North Korea carried out its latest nuclear test.  In a way this was a greeting to the world, or at least to the United States.  It was meant to convey one core message: all members of the Axis of Evil are equal, but some are more equal than others.

This test comes almost ten years after the invasion of Iraq in March 2003.  It’s time, I think, to recall the words of Madeleine Albright, the former Secretary of State – “The message out of Iraq is that if you don’t have nuclear weapons, you get invaded.  If you do have nuclear weapons, you don’t get invaded.”  North Korea has them, and is determined to show the world that it has them.  Iran - also on George Bush’s Axis - is on the way to acquiring them and there is really very little to be done.  The truth is simple enough: the invasion of Iraq has made the world an immeasurably more dangerous place.

Perhaps if George Bush had read Carl von Clausewitz, the great Prussian military strategist, things might have been different.  My goodness; what could a nineteenth century thinker have to say about a twenty-first century military fiasco, what could he possibly say to Bush that Bush would have understood?  Probably nothing, but you might care to consider the following passage from On War, Clausewitz' magnum opus:

No one starts a war-or rather, no one in his senses should do so-without first being clear in his mind what he intends to achieve by that war and how he intends to conduct it.

You see, what is important here, what Clausewitz understood and American strategic planners did not, is not so much the specific design, the aims and objectives as these are conceived in advance of an attack, but what unintended consequencesmay arise. War is then not a ‘continuation of policy by other means.’ Rather it can, and does, produce entirely new lines of policy that turn the original objectives inside out. For Washington the unintended consequences of the war in Iraq have, quite simply, been endless.

So, what did the Bush administration not anticipate? For one thing it did not anticipate that America casualties would be greater after ‘victory’ than before. Above all, it did not anticipate being involved in a sectarian war. It was all so one dimensional: a deposed dictator, a grateful people, a new democracy. The real consequences have been a more unstable Middle East, an increased danger of terrorism, a growing threat to the civil liberties of the democratic nations, and a widespread distrust of the United States and England among the Islamic countries.

In response to a deteriorating strategic situation Donald Rumsfeld, the then US Secretary of Defence, said quite simply, in the crassest possible way, ‘Stuff happens’. But you see, stuff should not happen if war is a rational pursuit of policy in the sense that Clausewitz conceived. The advice he would have given to Bush and Rumsfeld is to read the signs of history for possible consequences, in an attempt to minimise the variables. But they did not read history; they did not read Clausewitz and they did not understand Iraq. The only certainty has been and more chaos.

I am convinced, in this anniversary year, that history will look back on the Iraq War as one of the great political and strategic disasters of our age.  The whole escapade was built on a lie after lie: Saddam had no weapons of mass destruction and he had no contact whatsoever with Islamic terrorist groups like al-Qaeda.  It was the invasion itself that gave these murderous militants a major opportunity.  Rather than a stable democracy, the most pronounced of Bush’s many delusions, Iraq today is not that much better than it was yesterday.  Nouri al-Maliki, the present prime minister, has been building up a new dictatorship, concentrating more and more power in his hands and in the hands of his Dawa Party. 

Out of sight out of mind, or hear no evil, see no evil, seems to be the attitude of people who have the good fortune not live in this benighted ‘democracy.’  But evil there is.  We no longer hear of the killing but the killing still goes on.  Last year alone some 4500 civilians died in violence.  So far this month another 253 have been added to the list. The body count grows by the day.  Yesterday seventeen people were killed, fourteen by gunfire and three by bombs. 

The overall picture is horrendous, a cost that almost defies comprehension.  In the nine year period from 2003 to 2012 almost 4,500 American service people were killed along with 179 British.  But the Iraqi deaths, what of those?  According to theLancet, a well respected British medical journal, in the three years from 2003 to 2006 alone over 600,000 died as a result of violence, Yes, 600,000 – bombed, burned, stabbed, shot and tortured to death.  Proportionately that's the equivalent of 6 million Americans or 1.2 million Britons killed over the same period.  Can you conceive of such a Holocaust, can you conceive of the anguish and horror it would cause?  I can't.  

According to recent polls, the majority of the Iraqi people believe that they are worse off now than they were under Saddam, quite an achievement by any reasonable measure, considering what a thoroughly unpleasant person the former tyrant was. 

Now instead of a strong secular dictatorship there is a weak half-hearted democracy, torn by factional divisions and haunted by unresolved tensions. A large part of its population in the south is more loyal in political and religious outlook to Tehran rather than Baghdad. Quite frankly, I don’t believe that Iraq will ever be a stable democracy in the Western sense of the term. We wasted millions for what?  For precisely nothing, no political advantage, no strategic advantage; nothing.  There is a perversity here that, quite frankly, is beyond my comprehension. 

There are other issues, other things opened up by the invasion that people might not have been aware of. Did you know, for instance, that women under the rule of Saddam enjoyed a relatively free lifestyle, in that they had many of the same opportunities as men? They were not required to wear the burqa or the headscarf. After the invasion women in the south around the city of Basra were murdered for being considered ‘too western’ by the Shiite militias. Female athletes have been threatened with death for appearing ‘immodest’. Teenagers have been killed because of their hair styles.  The whole thing, quite simply, is a nightmare.

I cast my eye over the disaster of Iraq and the Roman historian Tacitus comes to mind.  Into the mouth of a barbarian chef, resisting a Roman incursion, he puts some powerful words;

A rich enemy excites their cupidity; a poor one, their lust for power. East and West alike have failed to satisfy them. They are the only people on earth to whose covetousness both riches and poverty are equally tempting. To robbery, butchery and rapine, they give the lying name of 'government'; they create a desolation and call it peace.....

As we approach another milestone in this sad history you might care to reflect that your country and mine, the United States and England, President George Bush and Prime Minister Tony Blair, those emperors of lying conceit, created a desolation and called it democracy. No wonder North Korea is perfecting its  nuclear shield.  

King Tony’s Head

Seemingly Tony Blair is to be honoured with a portrait bust in the Member’s Lobby of the House of Commons.  It’s difficult to see how this could be avoided, in that many other former Prime Minister are present, going right back to the beginning of the last century.  Baroness Thatcher is there, the only person to be so honoured in her lifetime. 

There are other times in history when Blair’s head might have regaled the Palace of Westminster – outside on a spike.  I know it’s wrong of me but I simply can’t take an objective view of this man, this hypocrite who drips his Christian faith, all the more hypocritical for that. 

He seems to me to be a morally debased figure, a man who did untold damage to this country, through reckless expenditure, through uncontrolled immigration and through pointless and unwinnable foreign wars.  It will take generations before his baleful and malign influence is fully assessed and understood.  He came to power in 1997 with no greater agenda than power.  His policies thereafter were based on expediency and opportunism, devoid of all guiding principle.  The Labour Party was no more than the debased vehicle of his ambition. 

He still haunts his old party, although he seems to be a less than welcome guest.  Ed Miliband, the Labour leader, apparently looks on him with some favour, though.  There was even some speculation that he may have been brought into the shadow cabinet in some role or other.  Yes, a shadow among the shadows. 

All is not lost.  Millipede intends to draw on the former PM’s experience both in governing Britain and more recently as a Middle East peace envoy in the run up to the next general election.  Governing Britain; that’s easy, just spend, spend and spend, oh, yes, not to forget the introduction of a lot unnecessary legislation, the pursuit of one politically correct chimera after another, a case of hunting the political Snark.

In the midst of the word he was trying to say

In the midst of his laughter and glee

He had softly and suddenly vanished away

For the Snark was a Boojum, you see.

Middle East peace envoy, well, yes, there’s a thing, a real measure of the Blair Witch Project, flying in , flying out, casting few spells, leaving things just as they are.  Saying peace, peace, when there is no peace.  He’s accumulated lots of air miles, though; I suppose that’s an expertise of a kind. 

Britain is doubtless too little a pond for this big fish.  Apparently he sees himself as a future president of Europe, though not quite yet, not for the moment.  What a pity.  For once I actually want him to get a job; I would welcome him as Mister Europe.  My greatest delight - assuming the Europeans could be sold the package - would be for him to become President of Europe just as this country withdraws from the Union. There is that, or his head decorating the Palace of Westminster.    

The Protocols of New Labour

My recent observation that I thought the Labour Party a conspiracy against the people of this country caused a minor ripple on Twitter.  I’m inspired, inspired to make the indictment even heavier by reviving a piece I wrote a couple of years ago. 

What follows is an imaginary document (it is, isn’t it?), an agenda for Britain by the Labour Party, based, of course, on The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, another infamous forgery about a supposed conspiracy. The difference is that the elements, the substantive elements, are all drawn from real history, past happenings and, from the date of the document, coming events. What about the conspiracy element? Well, I leave that for you to decide. :-)

Dismantling Britain

London, sometime in the winter of 1996.

Comrades, let me summarise the main points of our discussion and the elements of our agreed strategy. There has to be an election in the coming year, so we must be ready with the most effective programme possible. Also, comrades, none of this will go into our published manifesto. Let me remind you that you are all pledged to absolute secrecy.

Past Achievements

1.1 Ever since it was founded at the beginning of this century our Labour Party has been pledged to the destruction of Britain and the British way of life. We have approached this task in various ways. Before the Second World War our governments were too weak, too dependent on the good will of the then Liberal Party, to do any real damage. Something might possibly have come out from the partial victory of 1929 if it had not been for the treason of Ramsay Macdonald, joining in the National Government with the terrible Tories. For the nation is something we hate. The pacifism we supported certainly went a long way towards ensuring the country was not ready for war in 1939, but not nearly far enough.

1.2 We had a great victory in 1945 and made much of it under the guidance of Comrades Atlee and Bevan. The best way to ensure that the country would be ill-prepared for the future, for competition with the other capitalist states, was to start spending money it did not have on welfare programmes that it could not afford. How stupid our enemies were not to recognise how clever we were in building a Welfare State in a bankrupt country! How much more we could have achieved if Comrade Atlee had not lost his nerve and went for a general election in 1951. The Tories managed to reverse some of our damage, though we still made real gains on the road to ruin, massive public spending based on an economy that depended in a large part on dying and antiquated industries. Our comrades in the Trade Unions offered us valuable support here.

1.3 Our next period in office from 1964 to 1970 also saw positive achievements. Some comrades made useful and lasting contacts with the comrade communists in the Soviet Union as part of our secret foreign policy programme. Information was exchanged and deals done. Comrade Jack Jones of the Transport and General Workers Union performed some valuable services here, both as a paid-up agent of the KGB and as a sponsor of new MPs in trade union rotten boroughs. Comrades Blair and Brown were eventually to benefit from this union sponsorship. Comrade Wilson, our Prime Minister, pretended to be renewing the economy and reforming ‘outmoded’ trade union practices; but the economy just got weaker and the unions stronger.

1.4. More good work was done in our next period of government from 1974 to 1979, especially in the creation of ruinous levels of inflation, helped along by deals with the trade union dons. But things were still not moving fast enough; Britain was proving more resilient than we expected. Then came the disaster of 1979; then came Margaret Thatcher, the devil incarnate, who set about ruing all of our best achievements. We came close, but not close enough. We have to try harder, accelerate our programme in such a way that no future Thatcher will be able to reverse our work.

Future Strategy

We are now prepared for government, for victory in the election of 1997. These are the chief elements we must work on.

a. Devolution. Scotland and Wales must be given a parliament, in the case of the former, and an assembly, in the case of the latter. It was a mistake, comrades, to oppose devolution in the past, for this is the best way of beginning the end of Britain and the best way of isolating England. Don’t worry, comrades; in the short term we will still have the support of the bloc Labour vote from Scotland and Wales at Westminster, though English Tories will have no input into the affairs of these nations. A brilliant tactic. In the long term it will not matter what happens in England or what the English think for, you see, there will be no more England, which leads on to the second main feature of our master plan.

b. Europe. We shall accelerate the death of Parliament in England by giving away more and more powers to the European Union. We shall pretend to be opposed to any major political changes in Europe, changes of a constitutional nature, while advancing these as fast as we can. One element here is to pretend to allow the people to have a say in such matters and then, when our goals are within reach, change our minds. This approach might be used just prior to a future election. Westminster shall become increasingly irrelevant in peoples lives; England shall become increasingly irrelevant. Indeed, our third major strategy will make it difficult for people in future even to define Englishness.

c. Mass Immigration. We will open the doors. We will allow everyone in, whether there is economic cause or not, diluting the native English stock in a new multi-cultural utopia. We shall denounce all words of caution as racist, thus silencing debate. When we are finished it will be impossible to reverse the trend. This may very well lead to new forms of extremism in our old heartlands, as voters feel more and more alienated, a danger, yes, but such a process will help us forward by leading to the further fragmentation of England.

d. The Economy. Comrade Brown, whom Comrade Blair intends to appoint as Chancellor of the Exchequer, has excellent plans for laying the foundations of economic ruin by deregulating the banking sector - killing capitalism by its own devices - and by building a credit-fuelled boom, which will take the nation deeper and deeper into unsupportable levels of debt, public debt and private debt.

Summary

It is our earnest hope comrades that we win not just the coming election but the election after that and the election after that. It is our hope that we win and win. After twelve years or so people will no longer recognise this country, recognise it for what it once was. But I repeat, comrades, secrecy must be maintained. Only by that will the Elders of Labour emerge triumphant. Triumphant indeed.

Blair was Bush’s Barney

No sooner had I seen one movie about a British Prime Minister when along comes another! Actually, The Ghost, directed by Roman Polanski and based Robert Harris’ novel of the same name (he also wrote the screenplay), pre-dates The Iron Lady by more than a year. I haven’t read the novel so I had no compelling reason to go and see the movie and one compelling reason against – I’m really not that keen on Ewan McGregor as an actor. It was a close friend who urged me to watch it and I’m so glad she did.

It works perfectly; a lean, taught and brooding thriller. It’s not just in the story line, descending ever deeper into a sense of menace, but the general atmosphere, the setting and the unrelenting bleakness of the weather. Most of it is supposedly set in Martha’s Vineyard (actually it’s Germany’s even bleaker Baltic coast), though the upmarket resort seems more akin to a wind-swept Devil’s Island! The devil it contains is a certain Adam Lang, a former British Prime Minister, played with languid elegance by Pierce Brosnan, another actor I had mistakenly considered to be largely second rate.

If you’ve seen it you will know exactly who Lang is based on, even so far as his Scottish-derived name – this is a portrait of Tony Blair. We have him in all of his slick, cosmopolitan shallowness; glib, insincere and somehow unreal. It’s good to have Brosnan in the part, not even pretending to have a British accent, because it makes the rootlessness of the real thing all the more believable.

Lang may have been the great deceiver as PM but he wants his place in history. He writes his memoirs, only he can’t write for toffee; his words are as leaden as the weather. So into the picture comes Ewan McGregor, a professional ghost-writer only ever named as the Ghost. He is the Ghost of a Ghost, in that the previous Ghost died under mysterious circumstances.

Into Lang’s world Ghost is thrown, with troubles from the outset. The manuscript of Lang’s memoirs is kept locked away in a seafront house, a modernist pile that makes Hitler’s bunker look cosy by comparison. Here he meets Lang’s personal assistant Amelia (Kim Cattrall) and his wife Ruth (Olivia Williams), soon to experience all the latent tension between the two. The latter, in one of the best lines in the film, describes the whole setting as being like Shangri-La in reverse.

No sooner has the writer begun his task, and met his disagreeable client, than the problems begin. There are problems in the memoir, shot through not just with bad prose but inconsistencies and contradictions. There are problems in the wider world, where Lang finds himself in danger of being indicted for war crimes; and here we are dealing with matters pertaining to rendition and torture.

There is a deep sense of foreboding to the whole thing, a mystery never quite explained, a truth never quite attained. Polanski, himself in exile, directs with commensurate skill, creating a a toxic mix of character and situation. One simply knows there is no happy ending to come.

There is certainly no happy ending for the Ghost. To kill one Ghost is a misfortune; to kill two looks like carelessness! The poor chap, mowed down in the street, got far too close to the truth of Lang’s shady and disreputable past. I could not help thinking of the real-life Doctor David Kelly, whose ‘suicide’ was triggered after he supped too close to a coterie of devils. Ghost uncovers evidence that shows why Lang, when Prime Minister, slavishly followed an American line in international affairs; why, to slip from fiction to fact, Blair was really Bush’s dog. Come to think of it, Barney was a Scottie too!

The Ghost is both an enjoyable thriller and a parody, a send-up of Tony Blair and all his works by Harris (clearly a man disabused of an illusion), who consigns him and his awful wife to a kind of hell. I personally can see Blair and Cherie in Celebrity Big Brother, one that never ends, one from which there is no egress. That should be their Sartre-like fate: No Exit! Do I think Blair’s own memoir, A Journey, was ghosted? No, it’s too badly written for that.

The Mad Colonel and the Gay Lord

The more the previous government of this country, that once headed by the vile Tony Blair, slips into history the more venal, the more corrupt, it seems, the more mired in the deepest forms of turpitude and hypocrisy. It makes it worse that Blair continues to tour the world, touting his tawdry credentials as a latter day saint, rather than sink into the oblivion he deserves.

Meanwhile Peter Mandelson, if possible even more morally debased than his master, recently came to the defence of the beleaguered Gaddafis, saying that he and Blair were absolutely right to make friends with these people.

It’s certainly true that we live in a world with some fairly unpleasant leaders, people like Colonel Gaddafi and Hashim Thaçi, the Prime Minister of Kosovo, another of Blair’s pals, who stands accused of the worst kind of butchery during the Balkan wars. One has to be practical; it’s not always possible to take the moral high ground in international diplomacy. But there is being practical and there is being cosy, and, my, oh, my, how cosy Blair and Mandelson were with the Mad Colonel and Saif, his nauseating playboy son.

I’m sure most of the people who read this will have seen the recent news footage from Libya, also know as Colonel & Son, where the chief executives are doing all they can to ensure they do not go out of business…permanently. What you may not know is that Saif is battling for democracy; at least he is according to his Lordship. There is nostalgia at work here, a loyalty between chums, created, I suppose, when Saif spent a jolly good time with the gay peer on Corfu, as guests at Nat Rothschild’s villa. The Gay Lord, the Muslim Playboy and the Jewish Financier; is there a joke in this, I wonder?

There is a joke, certainly, a joke in Mandelson’s way of looking at events, one unfortunately without a great deal of humour. Never mind the Colonel’s rambling and half-mad statements on TV, never mind Saif’s determination, to use his words, to fight to the last man and the last bullet, he recognises, says Mandy, that Libya has to go on a different course, a transition towards political pluralism.

Quite right, my lord, just as the release of the Lockerbie bomber had nothing to do with shady deals over oil and cosy relations with playboys. Yes, one has to be realistic about international affairs; one has to remember to play the Machiavellian game. But there is realpolitik and there is Mandy Blair politick, enough to disgust even the most cynical realist. That the British people could ever have been taken in by these criminal hucksters is something that will never cease to perplex me.

Exit, pursued by the dead

I should really keep off the subject of Tony Blair for one simple reason: I despise him, I despise him so much, I despise everything he represents - the lies, the dissimulation, the phoniness, the general air of seediness and moral turpitude he brings to everything. I find it almost impossible to be dispassionate about this man and I do so hate my judgement being clouded by my emotions.

It’s not just him as a human being that I despise; I despise the degeneracy that he brought to government. If future historians try and pinpoint the moment when cabinet government died in this country I am convinced that they will alight on the Blair years. He appeared before the Chilcot Inquiry on Friday, set up to look into the exact reasons we went to war with Iraq in 2003, the latest stage in a seemingly endless process of self-reflection.

Amongst other revelations it turns out that in the twenty-eight meetings held by key figures leading up to the invasion only half were minuted. Cabinet ministers were also kept out of these discussions. It was all part of the Blair presidency. Never mind second UN resolutions, never mind cabinet agreement, never mind the consent of Parliament itself; no, for he had privately assured George Bush eight months before the invasion that “you can count on us.” It’s the contempt for the mechanics of government, for the constitution, for the way that British democracy works that fills me with the deepest disgust.

This is Blair’s second act. He appeared before Chilcot last January, hands shaking, sweating – much the same as this time – but with a generally gung-ho approach, singing je ne regrette rein to the gallery, filled with people who had lost relatives in his war. He’s clearly been reprogrammed, singing to a different sheet. This time he wanted to make clear that he regretted “deeply and profoundly” the loss of life. It is too late, as some in the audience shouted, it was always too late.

We should remember that most of our people died after the invasion, after ‘victory’, because in the rush to go to war there was an almost total lack of forward planning, little or no consideration as to how Iraq was to be occupied and restructured subsequent to the occupation. The troops we sent were simply not strong enough for the tasks allotted. There was no proper intelligence, no proper understanding of the internal religious and cultural politics of Iraq, with disastrous consequences. Let’s make no mistake about this: Britain suffered a serious humiliation in Iraq, our armed forces suffered a serious reversal because of Blair’s negligence and incompetence. In any other age he would have been indicted before Parliament. It’s rather a pity this is not any other age.

But if one dreadful war was not enough he, this Middle East ‘peace’ envoy (what exactly does he envoy over? who listens to him?), seems to be pushing for yet another, warning of the dangers from Iran. Yes, Iran is a danger precisely because of the 2003 invasion, which removed the one major obstacle to its regional ambitions. It was Blair and Bush who let this genie out of the bottle, impossible, I suspect, to put back.

In his Coffee House blog on the Spectator website Rod Liddle writes that Blair’s performance on Friday reminded him of some of Neil Young’s lyrics from a song called Ambulance Blues, penned seemingly as an attack on Richard Nixon. They fit our former prime minister so much better;

I never knew a man
Could tell so many lies
He had a different story
For every set of eyes
How could he remember
Who he’s talking to?
Because I know it isn’t me
And I hope it isn’t you

The Wandering Blair

Do you believe in curses? Do you believe that there are those condemned by fate to wander the world, never resting, never able to put down roots, moving, always moving? I’m sure most people will be familiar with the story of the Wandering Jew or the crew of the Flying Dutchman. Let me add a third; let me add Tony Blair, the erstwhile Prime Minister, who appears to be labouring under a similar burden, destined to become more unfortunate than either the Jew or the Dutchman; destined to pass into legend as Cosmopolitan Man.

They seek him here, they seek him there; people seek him everywhere. Is he in heaven or is he in hell? Well, yes, I suppose he is in a kind of hell, a limbo not quite of this world; a rootless refugee, a habitué of airport lounges and luxury hotels, always on the move, haunted, pursued by his own nightmares. There he is, a figure widely disparaged in his own country, widely disparaged even in his own political party, notwithstanding the fact that he was their most successful leader by far.

The reason for his peculiar fate is not at all hard to detect. He sought to shape the world anew, a world in his own image; a brave new world that had such people like him in it. He went to war, in Africa, in Europe, in Asia . Time and again he created desolation and called it peace and human rights; he created Afghanistan ; he created Iraq ; he created Kosovo.

It was once said that all political careers end in failure. But who would have thought that Blair’s many failures would become so obvious and so quickly; who would have believed that the mirages he created would turn out to be dust. Look at the demons he associates with or conjured up. There is Paul Kagame, president of Rwanda , whom he described as a “visionary” and a “good friend”. This ‘visionary’ and ‘friend’ stands at the head of an army that has now been accused of committing a series of gross atrocities in the neighbouring Democratic Republic of Congo, atrocities against Hutus in everyway as bad as those committed against the Tutsis in the infamous genocide of 1994.

That’s one of Blair’s chums. To this magic circle one can add Victor Dahdaleh, the Jordanian-born tycoon involved in bribery allegations; there is Thaksin Shinawatra the former prime minister of Thailand, another billionaire and corrupt wheeler-dealer; there is Mummar Gaddafi, the Libyan dictator and all round oddball for whom Blair acts as an advisor, a cosy relationship that had nothing whatsoever to do with oil deals. There are murderous tyrants and shady businessmen in the entourage of Cosmopolitan Man…and there is Hashim Thaçi, prime minister of Kosovo and alleged farmer of human organs.

Last summer Blair recalled a military adventure, using a refrain with which we are all so familiar: “I did what was right. I did what was just. I did not regret it then. I do not regret it now.” He was not speaking of Iraq ; he was speaking of Kosovo. This twilight state and criminal empire is now led Thaçi, another of the Blair set, who, when he was a leader in the Kosovo Liberation Army, was known as The Snake, which might give you some clue as to his character.

In a recent Council of Europe report he stands accused of heading a mafia-like criminal network linked to organ trafficking. He stands accused of smuggling Serb captives into northern Albania where they were butchered, their kidneys removed for sale on the black market. The prisoners are said to have begged not to be ‘chopped to pieces’ before they were shot. The worst thing about this is that Western governments seem to have known of Thaçi’s actions before military intervention in the Kosovo War. Kidneys and narcotics, these were the trades favoured by this war criminal, Blair’s best friend.

Ye shall know them by their fruits. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles? Even so every good tree bringeth forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit. A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit. Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire. Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them.

I really hope that Cosmopolitan Man is seen perpetually in the half-light, wandering from one ghastly airport lounge to another, verily unto the trump of doom.

Burning Blair’s Book

I’m thinking of organising my own book burning session, of walking in the footsteps of the Reverend Terry Jones, that intellectual giant, defender of mom, apple pie and the American way. But my particular animus is not directed against the Koran, no; it’s another book altogether: it’s Tony Blair’s A Journey.

The offences committed by this dreadful magnum opus are too many to mention, offences principally against good English usage. What makes me so angry here, what most reviewers seem to have missed, is that Blair’s testament is the worst kind of insincere pastiche, the People’s Book by the People’s Prime Minister who invented the People’s Princess. As I said on a Facebook site, this ghastly testament is written neither from the heart nor the head. It’s little more than a set of prefabricated clichés and stale ideas, a savage insult to those who died in Blair’s wars. It should burn, though, and burn well.

But even the worst kind of confessions usually have some tincture of simple honesty. Is there nothing in A Journey, nothing that could be offered in mitigation? On reflection I suppose there is, though on further reflection I think the mitigation compounds the general offence.

At a time when this country was facing serious domestic and international problems Blair and his wretched government set off in pursuit of a fox. Rather, they set off in pursuit of fox hunters, determined in a mood of urban spite to stop hunting with hounds, to end an ancient rural custom. I don’t imagine one in ten Labour MPs gave a damn about the welfare of the fox. They were like the seventeenth century puritans who, as T. B. Macaulay said, hated bear baiting, not because it gave pain to the bears, but because it gave pleasure to the spectators.

I happen to love fox hunting. I’ve been riding to hounds since I was twelve years old, a wonderful Boxing Day meet in Surrey that I will never forget. People who know nothing about the sport have all sorts of absurd preconceptions, not least of which that the hunters are all ‘toffs’, all upper class rural stereotypes. In fact I have met all sorts of people over the years. One is just as likely to ride alongside butchers, bakers and candlestick makers as lords, ladies and gentlemen.

Now Blair says that the 2004 Hunting with Dogs Act was a mistake. Now on his Journey he says of fox hunters “I started to realise that this wasn’t a small clique of weirdo inbreds delighting in cruelty, but a tradition, deeply imbedded by history and profound community and social liens, that was integral to a way of life.”

I could say that there is more joy in heaven and so on but this man is such a hypocrite that I would accept absolutely nothing he says as a simple and sincere truth. The legislation itself is a measure of his hypocrisy, a bone to the urban dogs of the Labour Party, a bone to that clique of weirdo inbreds delighting in stupidity. Those of you who know anything about it will understand that it is all sound and fury signifying nothing. It’s hopeless legislation, impossible to understand even more impossible to enforce, so much so that the police don’t even bother.

In a way I don’t really suppose it matters if the present administration of David Cameron repeals the ban or not. Things will go on pretty much as they do already; hunters will hunt and foxes will ‘accidentally’ be killed in the process. If they are ‘accidentally’ killed I can assure you that it is far, far more humane than the pest control methods substituted in ignorance by ‘animal lovers’ and other urban troglodytes, methods I find too horrible even to think about.

Actually, I may not bother with the Blair Book Burning. Instead I might send Journey on a journey, a scented trail for the dogs. I’m a bit worried though: they may just turn up their noses in disgust, dogs being a lot less gullible than the book-buying public.

The worst political memoir ever

I loath Tony Blair. There you are; I’ve said it; I simply can’t be objective here. I believe that American people are surprised by just how disliked he is on this side of the Pond, as he remains a popular figure in the States. I really could go on at length about this but I think it sufficient to say that his government served my country so ill a foreign occupier could not have inflicted much more damage. As a student of political history, casting my eye all the way back to the eighteenth century, to the point where the British parliamentary system began to emerge in its modern form, I can think of no worse ministry than that of New Labour, no worst prime minister than Tony Blair.

I make these comments in the light of the publication last week of A Journey, Blair’s political memoir. I had no intention of buying this book, a decision that was – temporarily – weakened by its reception on one of the late evening news bulletins. The reporter said that it was a “good read” and then proceeded to demonstrate how good it was with selective quotations. I assume the passages in question are among the ‘gems’, the usual practice, which made the whole thing all the more shocking, because they were downbeat, shallow, self-pitying and stunningly banal.

“That’s it”, I thought, “I will have to buy it and review it if this is the kind of thing one is to expect.” I no longer have to; the kind of assessment I would have written has been penned by Bruce Anderson of The Spectator. Even Bagehot in The Economist, generally appreciative, has pointed to what he refers to the “weirdly rootless” prose, references by Blair to his press aide’s “clanking great balls”, to one of his ministers as “fully simpatico with the direction of change.” But it is Anderson who delivers the killer under the heading The worst-written memoir by a serious politician. Here it is in its entirety;

It is bizarre. As he often demonstrated in the House of Commons, Tony Blair knows how to use words. He could also have mobilised a team to help him write his memoirs. Instead, it is all his own work, and the words mutinied. This book is not just badly written, it is atrociously written. For almost 700 pages, Tony Blair stumbles between mawkishness and banality.

Prime ministers send soldiers into combat. Some of those soldiers are killed. That is a subject which would lead the least sensitive of men to reach into their souls and craft language out of emotional depth. This is Mr Blair's version. "The anguish remains. The principal part of that is not selfish. Some of it is, to be sure. Do they really suppose I don't care, don't feel, don't regret with every fibre of my being the loss of those who died?' Yes, they do. They know that the "every fibre" line is a thoughtless cliché. Many, many of the fibres of his being were otherwise engaged.

This is not just a pedantic point. If Tony Blair was to write on this topic, he was obliged to write sincerely. The passage continues: "And not just British soldiers but those of other nations...' He then proceeds to list them, as if anxious to leave no-one out. He concludes: "I am now beyond the mere expression of compassion. I feel words of condolence and sympathy to be entirely inadequate." There, we can agree. His words are not only inadequate. They are a pathetic, tin-mouthed babble, and anyone who can refer to a "mere expression of compassion" has a tin-mouthed soul.

This does not prevent him writing about religion. He tells us that for him, it has always been "a passion bigger than politics". Alastair Campbell once said "We don't do God". Judging by these pages, his wariness was justified. Mr Blair certainly cannot do passion. 'So that's my new life", he tells us at the book's end. "What makes me optimistic? People. Since leaving office, I have learned one thing above all: the people are the hope". You could not make it up.

It is as if Tony Blair set out to do the parodists' work for them. Apropos of the UK's Olympic bid, he tells us that: "We also put David Beckham into the mix. David is a complete pro - he did what he was asked to do with no messing about and generally sent Singapore into a twitter, which is exactly what was required'. Twitter is the word; reading this guff, one has to remind oneself that this man is trying to describe an important premiership. Instead, he has produced much the worst-written memoir ever twittered by a serious politician. It will inflict lasting and deserved damage upon his reputation.

What more needs to be said? The memoir is clearly in character, in character of this infantile, shallow man, disingenuously honest, sickeningly phoney. There is one other thing. Blair, I understand, is now a Catholic. He therefore, I assume, accepts the dogma of hell. Personally I hope that is where his journey ends, the hell to which he consigned so many others.

As a postscript to the above I’ve just discovered that a Facebook group has been formed, now with close on 4500 members, made up of people committed subversively to moving Blair’s memoirs to the crime section of book shops- www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=150746811621277. I would have preferred the comedy section, or placing it alongside such gems of romantic fiction as the Mills and Boon paperbacks of Barbra Cartland, but – what the hell – I’ve joined. I’ll do anything for a spot of fun, anything to make this man look ridiculous.

The Descent of New Labour

I have to admire the courage of Andrew Rawnsley, admire the courage of anyone who takes on the Labour spin machine, as vicious and as ugly as anything that flowed from the mouth of Joseph Goebbels. His revelations about Mad Gordon Brown brought forth the venom. There was lots of anonymous briefing about ‘malicious falsehoods,’ amongst other things. I suppose he can at least be grateful that his family wasn’t attacked, grateful that the vile Damian McBride is no longer part of the character-assassination team.

No, instead he had fat John Prescott, two jags himself, weighing in with “gutter journalism”. Rawnsley seems to me to be far above that but he is not beyond throwing a punch;

…John Prescott, a man whose infidelities include having sex with a junior civil servant in a hotel room while his long-suffering wife, Pauline, waited downstairs to have dinner with the treacherous and hypocritical toad. Her recent memoir describes how he slunk back to their home in Hull to confess to his adultery before it became public. His security staff preceded him to the house to dump a bag of his smalls for Pauline to wash. I know which of us is better acquainted with the gutter.
Ouch!

Rawnsley’s book The End of the Party: the Rise and Fall of New Labour, from which the Observer extracts were drawn, has now been published. At some eight hundred pages it’s a hefty read, though well worth the effort. If you are only interested in the revelations about the carpet-chewing madman who now lives in Downing Street you already know almost all there is to know, but there is so much more in this book about the way the country has been governed since Labour’s second election victory in 2001.

The sub text might very well be the descent of Tony Blair; about a man who visibly decayed in office, from the fresh-faced vision of 1997 to the grey-haired gloom of 2007. Margaret Thatcher seems to have flourished in power, notwithstanding all of the challenges she faced. Blair, in contrast, withered, demoralised by the consequences, amongst other things, of the invasion of Iraq.

Having this horror on his conscience he also had Mad Gordon muttering and plotting in the background, punctuated occasionally by hot flushes, shouts of “You’ve ruined my life.” This was an impossible relationship; a friendship soured by frustrated ambition, by the childish fury of a man who wanted to be at the top of the greasy pole, yet so obviously lacked the capacity, the judgement and the intellect for the position.

There are points, I suppose, when almost feels sorry for Blair, with Mad Gordon bursting in, like Mrs Rochester out of the attic, with the delightful forms of language much favoured by Labour- “You’ve stolen my fuckingg budget” or “When are you going to fuckingg go?” The Queen makes a late appearance, putting up with the insufferable Silvio Berlusconi at the G8. As another reviewer wrote, one almost expects her to burst into the room with a heartfelt “Give us a fucking break” :-))


Rawnsley also confirms something that I have long suspected: Blair, for all his persuasive ability, was essentially a weak man. Just as he could not control Mad Gordon he could not stand up to George Bush. Our intervention in Iraq is best seen in the context of a wider strategy in the Middle-East; it was intended to buy influence with America and commit Bush to a solution of the Palestinian problem. But the more Blair gave the more Bush took, offering next to nothing in return.


The book is a splendid insight into Labour, into a high-grade tragedy or a low-grade farce, I can’t really decide which. It’s all there, the lies, the plots, the betrayals and the back-stabbing, from things can only get better to could they conceivably get much worse.

If’t chance some cursed example poison’s near the head, Death and diseases through the whole land spread

Nobody expects the Chilcot Inquisition!

I like old comedies, shows like Monty Python’s Flying Circus, full of anarchic humour. Watching Blair’s performance before the Chilcot Inquiry on the Iraq War reminded me somewhat of the Spanish Inquisition scene, the one where the old lady is threatened with such dire tortures as the cushions and the comfy chair!

It’s just so frustrating, that panel of old dogs with gummy jaws, whose toughest questions have all the force of the cushions and the comfy chair. Yes, we are repeatedly reminded by the chairman that the object of the inquiry is to get at the truth not to apportion blame. But how does one get to the truth without asking demanding questions; how does one get to the truth, in other words, without detailed cross-examination?

There he was, Blair, a perfect target, not at all looking like a former prime minister of this country, rather a shifty prisoner in the dock, his hands shaking according to witnesses. But then he got into his stride; then he produced what was obviously a rehearsed strategy. It was the same gung-ho approach as Alistair Campbell; defend everything and apologise for nothing. Yes, there he was, he might as well have sung Non, je ne regrette rien.

I so wanted to be there also; I so wanted to conduct the kind of cross-examination of which the Chilcot worthies are incapable. So, former Prime Minister Blair, 9/11 changed the ‘calculus of risk’, to use your expression. Tell me, why was it necessary to attack a secular state actively hostile to terrorist movements like al-Qaeda? Did you not consider the possibility that removal of Saddam would immeasurably destabilise the whole region to the benefit of Iran? Were you not advised of the logistical and practical difficulties of invading and occupying a country like Iraq by a panel of academic experts in November 2002? Did you not then ignore that advice, saying that Saddam was ‘evil’? Would it be true to suggest that the invasion was based on a dubious value judgement, not on solid intelligence and practical politics?

Oh, I could go on like this. How I would loved to have tackled him on the bizarre logic of the March 2010 question; that weapons not there in March 2003 would have multiplied, nothing begetting nothing! The truth is simply told; the First Gulf War was absolutely necessary; the Second was a Bush war, unfinished family business into which a man, never fit to be Prime Minister, drew this country on the basis of half-truths, outright lies, shady deals and dubious manipulation. He misled parliament; he misled the nation. Hans Blix, the former UN weapons inspector, has compared Blair and Bush as latter-day ‘witch hunters’, only interested in such evidence as ‘proved’ their case.

The same day that Blair gave his evidence by some ironic coincidence BBC screened a repeat of Andrew Marr’s History of Modern Britain, the episode dealing with Suez. This was a foreign policy disaster that effectively destroyed Anthony Eden, a bear of very little judgement. Still, for all his faults, he had qualities of simple integrity and decency, entirely alien to Tony Blair. I’m convinced that future historians will judge Iraq to be a far greater mistake than Suez. Meanwhile, the ‘calculus of risk’ is immeasurably greater now precisely because of Blair’s Bush War.

Weapons of Mass Deception

I was wrong about the Chilcot Inquiry into the causes of the Iraq War, at least in part. I said it would add nothing new to our understanding of the Iraq war, an ill-conceived adventure that cost so many lives. But it has; it has added to our understanding of Tony Blair, of the motives, of the character and of the attitude of this morally debased man before he has even had a chance to appear.

We now know, by his own admission, that Weapons of Mass Destruction were not vital to the war; it was merely a ‘technique’ used to persuade Parliament and the nation beyond that the invasion of a sovereign state was justified. We now know that he would have invaded Iraq anyway, though he would have used a different set of arguments, a different technique of mass deception.

Last month I wrote a blog on Chilcot, headed Just another Toothless Dog, in which I said;

In order to get support for the invasion Blair lied to both the Parliament and the nation beyond. Forms of news management and propaganda were introduced by Alistair Campbell, his thuggish aid, which would have shamed even Doctor Goebbels. There was absolutely no threat at all to our national security from Iraq and Blair knew there was no threat; this was not an exercise in self-deception. Lying was used as a deliberate and sustained political strategy, possibly for the first time ever in our history, at least on such a scale. Parliament wasn’t just ‘mislead’; Parliament was manipulated and deliberately deceived

Well, I honestly never expected that we would receive an open admission of these simple truths. I try to be as objective as I can in these matters, but I cannot think of this man other than with the deepest contempt; contempt for his cowardice, his hypocrisy and his utter lack of moral backbone. He now recognises that the WMD argument no longer holds so he shifts ground, presumably in anticipation of his appearance before Chilcot in the New Year.

I can see it now, the final flowering of the hints he has laid down ever since the Labour Party conference the year after the invasion; that ridding the world of Saddam was the ‘moral’ thing to do, the right thing to do, the thing that harmonised most with his ‘Christian conscience.’ There will be no mention, of course, of the huge death toll that followed in wake of this ‘moral’ decision.

Oh, make no mistake: I think the world is a better place without Saddam Hussein, just as I think it would be a better place without Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, Kim Jong-il, Robert Mugabe, Hugo Chávez, Fidel Castro and Colonel Gaddafi, all repellant dictators. But by what right do we remove one piece on the board only to retain the others? More specifically, what gave Blair the right to remove Saddam, who at no point represented a threat to the security of this country, only to do deals with Gaddafi, who did represent such a threat? We remove Saddam only to shake hands with the butcher of Lockerbie. It makes no sense other than in terms of the most depraved forms of realpolitik imaginable.

I sometimes wish that I did believe in God, in a final court of divine retribution, because Blair has so much to answer for, so many souls demanding justice.

You've Got Blood on Your Hands

Do you wonder why Tony Blair’s Euro bandwagon, at once so strong, died not with a bang but a whimper? Among the reasons offered is that Britain still has a less than complete relationship with the rest of Europe, not being within the Euro zone itself and not being party to the Schengen Agreement. And, of course, there is the decision to go to war in Iraq, which does not make him the most popular figure across the Continent, though this consideration obviously weighs more heavily with ordinary people rather than politicians, who have continued to fete this vile man despite his bloody hands.

If the Eurocrats really wanted Blair I’m convinced that Iraq would have been but a minor consideration. Ah, but think again; he really was hoist by the petard of popular contempt, at least according to a snippet of information that I have come across. In October he had the neck to attend a memorial held at the Guildhall for those killed in Iraq, who included Lance Corporal Shaun Brierly, who died in March 2003. When Blair made to shake hands with Peter Brierly, Shaun’s father, he was snubbed with the words-“I’m not shaking your hand; you’ve got blood on it.”

This may have passed but the story reached Paris. There, according to senior government sources, Nicholas Sarkozy told his staff that the EU could not risk having a man as president who might very well be confronted by similar angry scenes. At the end of October he met with Angela Merkel and both agreed that Blair was indeed a potential public relations disaster. Various excuses were devised to excuse Sarko’s change of direction but the ‘blood on your hands’ confrontation is thought to be the decisive factor. Mister Brierly has expressed his pleasure. Sometimes, just sometimes, the things people do and say really do matter in changing the course of history.

Empty Apologies

I’ve blogged in the past about the fashion, both fatuous and vain, for contemporary politicians to apologise for the tragedies and mistakes of the past; over things that happened well before they were born or over which they had no control (The Joker in a Gay Mood and No Point in Apologising for the Past). I’ve had further thoughts about this, inspired in part by Rod Liddle’s latest column in The Spectator, and in part the leaks from the Iraq Inquiry reported in The Sunday Telegraph.

Liddle’s reflections have been brought on by the latest round of apologies, that over the British children sent out to Australia last century, where they often suffered abuse and neglect. Brown has taken it upon himself to say sorry, just as he said sorry over the past persecutions suffered by homosexuals. It is, Liddle says, the quintessential example of the modern apology: a politician who is not remotely contrite apologising for something for which he had not the vaguest responsibility and for which, therefore, he cannot be blamed. A non-apology apology, then-an apology for something someone else did, and what’s more, did in the best of faith.

I suppose it might be of some comfort to someone somewhere that, given this trend, they can expect an apology for present injustices and wrongs, injustices and wrongs committed by the present government, in, say, fifty or a hundred years from now, delivered by politicians as yet unborn, though they will most likely not be around to enjoy the experience. I personally would like our dear Prime Minister to apologise for a more immediate enormity, one from the not too distant past: namely his Party’s close and potentially treasonable ties with the old Soviet Union. I don’t expect that any day soon, though; maybe in fifty or a hundred years. Never mind: what about an apology that would not cause the government too much distress, perhaps over Henry VIII’s dissolution of the monasteries or Edward I’s expulsion of the Jews?

Tony, Not the Euro President, Blair led the way here, apologising for the Irish Potato famine, for slavery, even for the treatment of the Maoris! But let’s look at the thing, the one thing, he really needs to apologise for-the Iraq War. Did you read the report in the Telegraph? Did you read how he lied to Parliament about the planned invasion; how our troops were sent often half-prepared; how there was absolutely no thought given to a post-war strategy? The full human cost of this dreadful tragedy has yet to be quantified, but hundreds of thousands of innocent people died for Blair’s vision, for Blair’s mendacity.

Casting my mind over the past hundred years I cannot think of a similar enormity by a British Prime Minister. Even Anthony Eden’s Suez adventure is nothing in comparison. Yet this man, who, so far as I am concerned, might very well be indicted at The Hague for war crimes, was being considered for the Presidency of Europe. I’m sure the Inquiry will produce a lot more evidence of the enormities that Blair, the peace maker, committed in the Middle East, evidence depicting a situation that positively demands some genuine contrition and a truly meaningful apology. Alas, it’s an apology that will never be made. Never mind; there is always the dissolution of the monasteries, the expulsion of the Jews and on and on.

Things Can Only Get Better

Commenting on Tony Blair’s backdoor bid to be President of Euroland The Economist says that he is opposed by the Tories because they ‘fear his clout.’ I rather thought it’s because we do not want this debased man to have any input into English politics ever again. We saw enough of him in the past; we know enough about him not to want him in the future.

He is a constant puzzle to me, I have to say; he has been since I first became truly politically conscious. It’s impossible to deny that he was the most successful Labour Prime Minister ever, winning three elections in a row. But for what, I ask? That’s the puzzle, at least after the first victory in 1997, which was built on the desire for change, built on the nadir of the Major government. What exactly did he achieve? Nothing, nothing that I can see. Sorry, that’s not true; his achievements were almost invariably bad or wretched, in both domestic and foreign policy.

I’m biased, you say; yes, I am; I freely admit this. But still, think about his record, think about the record of his government. ‘Education, education, education’ was his mantra at the outset. What has that brought? Why, decline, decline, decline; an abject failure in state schooling based on relentless dumbing down, an academic inflation of the worst kind. Who would not, if they could afford it, choose to escape so much of the comprehensive system in this country?

I also think Blair deserves to be ranked among the weakest of our prime ministers. His whole time in office was marked by a schoolboyish feud with Gordon Brown, his Chancellor, seething and resentful in the background, believing he could do better in the top job, totally unaware how ill-suited he was. The foundation of our present economic ills, the phoney debt fuelled boom, was set down in those years. Frightened to move him, or to sack him for disloyalty, and thus have him do a Sir Geoffrey Howe from the back benches, Blair allowed his second-rate colleague to ditch Prudence and embrace Profligacy.

And what an absolute phony Blair was in every way, the prime minister of spin and image; the Hello prime minster. I remember in my teens seeing a news broadcast from Downing Street, one where he came out in casual dress carrying a mug, which I think had ‘Best Dad’, or something or other written on it. That was the point when I though, oh gosh, what a fake, what a pathetic poseur!

But he has clout on the world stage, so says The Economist. According to David Miliband his cavalcade would ‘stop the traffic’, which I think gives perfect insight to this man’s perception of politics and people. Why does he have clout, exactly? Because he became George Bush’s poodle. What other explanation is there? He barked to order; he barked into Afghanistan and Iraq. He barked on the basis of a lie and then tried to cover that lie in the most despicable way. On the subject of lies there was a promise of a referendum on Europe, perhaps the biggest fraud of all.

So, all along the line the Labour government failed; on education, on immigration, on the economy, on Europe, on defence, on everything. Still, Blair won election after election, in 1997, in 2001 and in 2005. Why? Why? Why? My answer is simple: it was because of the curse of Margaret Thatcher. The abject and cowardly way she was stabbed in the back in 1990 was to haunt the Tory Party for years after, through the Major years and into opposition; through the time of William Hague, Iain Duncan Smith and Michael Howard. The Party seemed lost for an identity, lost for a proper sense of itself, caught by the dazzle of Blairdom. And that’s just the point; it was all just hype and dazzle. But the dazzle turned Brown and the future got bright. Things can only get better. :-)

Sarko's Shower and Blair's Power

At the risk of appearing unfair the vamp is going to have another bite at Super Sarkozy, one of several. Yes, it might be just a tad excessive but I do assure you that I have no particular animus against the Midget, the European Union’s pocket Napoleon. But how can I resist drawing blood from his latest extravagance, his Euro shower, mentioned recently in The Daily Telegraph?

Do you know how much it costs to ensure the cleanliness of the President of France? No? Neither do I really, but what I do know is that while France held the rotating Euro presidency he had a shower installed for himself in the Grand Palace at a cost of £250,000 for the three-day summit held in Paris in July of last year. Yes, that’s right, only the said shower, complete with air-conditioning and radio ‘surround sound’, never witnessed the presidential torso: it was torn down unused days after completion. Sarko himself decided to perform his ablutions in the Élysée, ten minutes down the road. What a shower, yes, what a shower.

The general expenditure for this junket would have shamed Nero, but it’s rather the thing in the new Roman Empire. This three-day event alone cost the European taxpayer £16 million, including a dinner at a cost of £23,000 a head. What a feast that must have been! I expect the leftovers were scattered around the world like loaves and fishes, to places where people earn no more than a dollar a day, to places were people exist on the threshold of starvation.

The Midget may not be the brightest card in the European pack but he can spend as well as any. His six-month presidency of the EU cost a total of £160 million, among the most expensive in European history. Mark Wallace of the Tax Payer’s Alliance said: “It’s small wonder the EU is so wasteful if people who are meant to make it work for us are getting pampered in the lap of luxury.” Nigel Farange added: “The Napoleonic ambition of Brussels is underlined by the throwaway extravagance of its elite.”

Well, let’s just wait until that fright Tony Blair gets his hands on the goodies. What’s wrong with the Continentals? Why do they not hate this man, this warmonger and hypocrite, as much as I hate him? Can they not see him for what he is? Obviously not. Never mind; as David Milliband said, his cavalcade will stop the traffic; at huge expense, no doubt!

Finally, on the subject of El Presidente Blair, I rather enjoyed a letter from one Bob Wydell in the Telegraph;

Now that the Lisbon Treaty has been bulldozed through 26 countries and secured with bribery in another, Tony Blair is our only hope. He has ruined Britain, alienated the people of England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland against each other and subordinated the once great Britain to the fraud-ridden European Union. Our only hope is that he can do the same in Brussels-ruin it.

Right on, Mr Wydell!

Herding Cats

I have little doubt now that the Lisbon Treaty will be ratified on this side of a general election. Czech resistance is nothing more than a mirage. It gives me little pleasure to write this. I cannot but agree with a recent statement in The Economist that the treaty is being driven through despite having been rejected by three out of a total of six referendums, with ten governments reneging on promises to hold votes of their own, a process which is, in their words, ‘deeply shabby.’ There is democracy and there is the European Union: the two will never meet.

Still, there is some comfort to be taken. The silly political porridge cooked up at Lisbon is an end, not a new beginning, like so many previous European treaties. More than that, the whole campaign for ratification turned into a lengthy war of attrition. The outcome is no more than a Pyrrhic victory for the federalists, which has left them well short of their goal, too exhausted to fight on. Put it another way: we will never all stand up for The Ode to Joy. Sad to say I truly hate that now, both the words and the music.

What we may very well have to stand for is the onward march of the Blair President Project. In the scramble for this office he is likely to ‘emerge’ in the way that a new Pope emerges, after Europe’s twenty-seven cardinals have considered how worthy his holiness is likely to be. He is likely to be chosen because he has a profile on the world stage which the other potential candidates, all mediocrities, do not. I personally cannot imagine anyone less worthy…unless it’s Gordon Brown. We know Blair; the Europeans do not; we have the exact measure of this shallow, mendacious and morally bereft individual; a man who took my country into one of the least-justified wars in our history. I said in a recent discussion here that I would stop short of calling him George Bush’s poodle, because even poodles have some dignity.

But I suppose none of it really matters; because in the absence of further integration, President Blair, and his future successors, are likely to have no greater dignity than chairing meetings, much as at present, though for a longer term of office. As for speaking for Europe ‘as a whole’ just imagine the jealousy and back-stabbing of all those national governments, those real prime ministers and presidents, those cardinals and potential anti-Popes. It should soon be apparent to the rest of the world that Blair-should he succeed-is little better than a cat herder. This is a rather an apt destiny, I think, for an individual who always reminds me of the Cheshire Cat. In the end nothing will be left but the grin.

J’accuse

I accuse the present Labour government in England of being the most criminally incompetent we have ever had.

I accuse Tony Blair of involving my country in one of the most unjustifiable and unnecessary military adventures in our history, worse, even, than Suez. We went to war in Iraq in pursuit of non-existent terrorists and illusory weapons of mass destruction. We found a bad situation and we made it infinitely worse. We removed a secular dictator, only to allow the worst forms of fratricidal and religious conflict to emerge. Blair's administration, in its embarrassment over the lies and deceptions that took us to war in the Middle East, tried to hide the true facts, and may very well have hounded an innocent man, Dr. David Kelly, to his death. Going to war in Iraq also meant losing focus in Afghanistan, allowing the Taliban to make a major comeback, the source of our present troubles.

I accuse him of dismantling of the United Kingdom while passing ever more powers to the European super-state, a threat to English liberty in every way as great as Napoleon or Hitler. I accuse him of allowing unprecedented levels of immigration, including the arrival of thousands of bogus ‘asylum seekers’, into an already overcrowded Isle. I accuse him of losing control of the criminal justice system, presiding over the steady disintegration of social order, which continues to this day. I accuse him of introducing levels of cynicism and manipulation into British politics far in excess of any previous prime minister; he turned principle into spin, manipulating the whole system of government into his own self-serving ends. His greatest achievement-arguably his only achievement-was to give way to the utterly charmless Gordon Brown, a brilliant exercise in self-promotion, which has served to make him look good in retrospect, casting a fog over his deep moral turpitude.

I accuse Gordon ‘the Joker’ Brown, of being the worst Prime Minister of the worst government we have ever had, worse, even, than Frederick, Lord North, and that really is some achievement. I accuse him of mismanaging the economy, both as Chancellor and Prime Minister, to the point of taking this country to the threshold of bankruptcy. I accuse him of losing control of the whole banking sector, which descended into the deepest levels of fiscal irresponsibility. I accuse him of lying to the people of England about the precise causes of the present economic downturn.

I accuse him of perpetuating the Blairite culture of lies and spin, adding malice to the venomous mixture, numbering on his staff the utterly vile Damian McBride, a man with all of the poison but none of the intelligence of Josef Goebbels. I accuse him of starving the British Army of the men and equipment necessary to complete the task it has been given in Afghanistan. The fact that the army is underfunded, underequipped and understrength is contributing to the growing level of casualties.

I accuse him of surrendering even more of our sovereignty to Europe in the Lisbon Treaty, the Constitution by any other name rejected by democratic votes in both France and the Netherlands. Beyond all else, I accuse him of being absorbed by double-speak and spin, of not having the wit or the intelligence to see how meaningless his own words have become.

Oh, how I wish the Joker could be called to account for all of the cowardice, the lies and the incompetence that have been such a feature of his administration; how I wish he could be called to account in the same fashion as, say, Lord North!

To this government I would simply repeat once again the words Oliver Cromwell used in dismissing the Long Parliament in 1653;

You have sat too long for any good you have been doing lately ... Depart, I say; and let us have done with you. In the name of God, go!

How Will Tony Blair Be Judged By History?

Here are the two elements of an answer I gave to this question elsewhere. I forget where now. :-))

1.) Badly, very badly-at least if I have anything to do with it! He involved my country in one of the most unjustifiable and unnecessary wars in our history; he laid the foundations for the dismantling of the United Kingdom; he passed ever more powers to the European super-state; he introduced levels of cynicism and manipulation into British politics far in excess of any previous head of government; he turned principle into spin, manipulating the whole system of government into his own self-serving ends. I suspect his greatest achievment was to give way to the utterly charmless Gordon Brown, a brilliant exercise in self-promotion, which has served to make him look good in retrospect, casting a fog over his many errors! You asked for an opinion; well, you've got one.

2)X, it's not so much that you are asking for debate that concerns me. Rather, you are holding up a mirror, expecting to see your own judgements reflected back at you. In your obvious surprise that they are not you are starting to wave the Blair flag; but what about this and what about that? I could, if I wished, offer detailed challenges to your list of Blairite 'achievements', from the supposed independence of the Bank of England to the Human Rights Act, the operation of which, in my experience, is held in almost universal contempt. But what would be the point? History is the only judge, and history tends, in its arbitrary and sweeping way, to take account only of the big picture; and in Blair's case the big picture is not good.

We went to war in the Middle East not in defence of human rights (were they somehow worse in Iraq than, say, Zimbabwe or North Korea?), but in pursuit of non-existent terrorists and illusory weapons of mass destruction. We found a bad situation and we made it infinitely worse. We removed a secular dictator, only to allow the worst forms of fratricidal and religious conflict to emerge. I sincerely hope that things in Iraq 'could still turn out well', as you put it, but do you honestly believe that will make the sacrifice of thousands upon thousands of innocent lives worthwhile?

Blair's administration, in its embarrassment over the lies and deceptions that took us to war in the Middle East, tried to hide the true facts, and may very well have hounded an innocent man to his death. In the end I do sincerely believe that he, along with Dubya, Svengali to his Trilby, will stand condemned before the bar of history.

But, yes, you are right; I find it difficult to be objective here. Like a climber, I only see the rock face in front of me, and not the mountain. I grew up during the Blair years, and voted for the first time in the general election of May 2005 (Conservative, if you want to know!). It's too much a part of my life for me to bring my scholarly instincts to bear. In the end the only real response to your question is that given by Zhou Enlai when asked about the historical significance of the French Revolution-'It's too early to say.' Ask me again in twenty years or so, by which time I will have written his biography. For, in the end, history might be no more than what historians say it is!