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The NS Interview: Helen Clark, head of the UN Development Programme

“I had more power before but I’ve got more influence now”

You served as a Labour prime minister for three terms. Is that where the similarities with Tony Blair begin and end?
Our major dissimilarities were in foreign policy. As you know, New Zealand did not support the invasion of Iraq. I think that was prescient.

Was there no collaboration?
In the years that I was prime minister and Tony Blair and then Gordon Brown were prime ministers, there was quite a lot of policy discussion. But we were much more inclined not to look for market mechanisms in the public sector.

The economist Peter Bauer once described aid as an excellent means of transporting money from poor people in rich countries to rich people in poor countries. Does that hold true?
I don't think it holds true, because we are very much focused on systemic change, with a strong emphasis on equality.

You have described the role of the UNDP as providing "the software". What do you mean?
We are not a bank. If someone wants to build a bridge from A to B, there's no point in coming to us; we don't have that sort of money. On the other hand, the planning that goes into a bridge might well be informed by work that the UNDP did to support a country.

Do you think that right-of-centre governments are less inclined to engage with development than left-of-centre governments?
It probably hasn't made a huge difference to the spend: the issue is how big a mess countries are in economically. The size of Spain's economic shock is pretty great so it's cutting back. Britain's problems are considerable, but it has made a deliberate choice under a Conservative-Liberal government to keep the spend up.

Is there a danger that the security agenda could skew where development money goes?
If you neglect those who are currently poor and stable, you may create more poor and unstable people. There has been a tremendous concentration of donor interest in countries that are seen as particularly fragile - but it becomes harder to mobilise money for sub-Saharan, plain poor countries.

It's a difficult sell when governments are preoccupied with Afghanistan.
In sheer development terms, of course fragile countries are very deserving. Afghanistan is one of the poorest countries on earth. Security issue or no security issue, there would need to be a focus on it.

Are the Millennium Development Goals, which have a target date of 2015, going to be missed?
A lot of moons would have to come into alignment for every target to be met but, at a global level, progress is quite promising. We need to speed up. The poverty goal is certainly within reach; the hunger one isn't. In terms of universal primary education enrolment, we are tantalisingly close. One more heave and we could do it.

What happens after 2015?
There's a debate to be had about whether there's Daughter of MDGs or a case for being bold.

What's your preference?
To be bold and go for eradication of poverty and hunger. I mean, that is the essence of development: you eradicate extreme, absolute poverty and you eradicate hunger.

Only 18 per cent of the world's legislators are women. How should that be changed?
There's no option but to look at affirmative-action measures. We've been involved in supporting countries to draft legislation to achieve that. For example, in Papua New Guinea, we have helped Dame Carol Kidu, who's the only woman member of parliament and the only female minister, to draft legislation for a reserve number of seats.

Is there anything you'd like to forget?
No. "Never look back" is my philosophy.

Does religion play a part in your life?
Absolutely not. I have no beliefs of a religious kind.

Is there a plan?
I'm 60 years old, so you could say that more than half of my life has gone by. I'm very happy with it and I regret nothing. The plan is to keep using the talents and leadership skills I have to do some good for the world.

Is there another job after this one?
I love this one. I think I've got the best job in the UN. I was asked: "Did you have more power in your previous position as prime minister or in this one?" I said: "I had more power before; I've got more influence now."

Do you vote?
Yes. I exercise my vote. I'm in New Zealand often enough to keep my registration and I will certainly be voting Labour at the next general election.

Are we all doomed?
No, life's too short to be pessimistic.

Defining Moments

1950 Born in Hamilton, New Zealand
1981 Enters parliament as a Labour MP
1987 Elected to cabinet
1989 Becomes deputy prime minister
1993 Appointed leader of the Labour Party
1999 Becomes first woman to be elected prime minister of New Zealand
2008 Becomes longest-serving Labour leader. Loses general election
2009 Appointed administrator of the United Nations Development Programme

Jon Bernstein, former deputy editor of New Statesman, is a digital strategist and editor. He tweets @Jon_Bernstein. 

This article first appeared in the 10 January 2011 issue of the New Statesman, Here comes the squeeze

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An English hero for the ages: Ian Botham at 60

Botham blends his sportsmanship and deep-seated passion for cricket with a lust for life.

Begging W H Auden’s pardon, it is possible both to honour and to value the vertical man, and in the case of Ian Botham, who turned 60 on 24 November, it is our bounden duty. No sportsman has given Britons so much to enjoy in the past half-century and no sportsman is loved more. Two decades after he retired from first-class cricket, his reputation as one of life’s champions remains unassailable.

No mere cricketer is he, either. Botham is a philanthropist, having raised more than £12m for various charities, notably Leukaemia and Lymphoma Research. In December, 30 years after his first walk from John o’Groats to Land’s End, he will set off again, in South Africa, where England are on tour. And he really does walk, too, not amble. As somebody who accompanied him on one of his dozen walks said: “You can’t keep up with him. The man is a phenomenon.”

Of all postwar sportsmen, only Bobby Charlton and, at a pinch, Henry Cooper come close to matching Botham’s enduring popularity. But Charlton, a shy man who was scarred by the Munich plane crash of 1958 (and may never have recovered from its emotional effects), has never comfortably occupied a public stage; and Cooper, being a boxer, had a solitary role. Botham, by contrast, spoke for England. Whenever he picked up his bat, or had a ball in his hand, he left spectators in no doubt.

Others have also spoken for England. Bobby Moore and Martin Johnson, captains respectively of England’s World Cup-winning football and rugby teams, were great players but did not reach out to people as naturally as Botham. Nick Faldo, Lester Piggott, Sebastian Coe and, to bring us up to date, Lewis Hamilton have beaten the best in the world, but they lacked those qualities that Botham displayed so freely. That is not to mark them down. They were, and are, champions. But Botham was born under a different star.

It was John Arlott, the great cricket commentator, who first spotted his uniqueness. Covering a match at Taunton in 1974, he asked the young colt to carry his bags up the rickety staircase to the press box, where Arlott, wearing his oenophile’s hat, pulled out a bottle of red wine and invited Botham to drink. Forty years later Botham is a discriminating wine drinker – and maker. Along with his friend and fellow England great Bob Willis, and their Australian wine­making pal Geoff Merrill, he has put his name to a notable Shiraz, “BMW”.

Arlott, with his nose for talent and good company, saw something in the young Botham that Brian Close, his captain at Somerset, was beginning to bring out. Later, Mike Brearley, as England captain, drew out something even more remarkable. As Rodgers and Hammerstein wrote, you’ve got to be carefully taught. And Botham, a fine team man as well as a supreme individual performer, has never withheld praise from those who enabled him to find his voice.

If sport reveals character, then cricket is the game that reveals it most clearly. In no other sport is the individual performance rooted so firmly in a team context. Every over brings a contest of skill and intelligence between batsman and bowler but only a team can win the match. “A cricketer,” as Arlott said, “is showing you something of himself all the time.”

Cricket also reveals national character more than any other sport. Football may be the most popular game in the world but cricket, and cricketers, tell us far more about England and Englishness. It is instructive, in this regard, to hear what Philippe Auclair, a French journalist and author long resident in London, has to say about Botham: “He is essentially an 18th-century Englishman.” In one! It’s not difficult to sense a kinship with Tom Jones, Fielding’s embodiment of 18th-century life, who began his journey, as readers may recall, in Somerset.

A country boy who played for Worcestershire after leaving Somerset, and who lives by choice in North Yorkshire, Botham is an old-fashioned Englishman. Although nobody has yet found him listening to the parson’s sermon, he is conservative with a small and upper-case C, a robust monarchist, handy with rod and gun, and happiest with a beaker in front of him. He represents (though he would never claim to be a representative) all those people who understand instinctively what England means, not in a narrow way, but through something that is in the blood.

Above all, he will be remembered for ever as the hero of 1981. Even now it takes some believing that Botham bowled and batted with such striking success that the Australians, who were one up after two Tests, were crushed. Some of us who were actually at Headingley for the famous third Test – thousands who claim to have been there were not – recall the odds of 500-1 on an England victory going up on the electronic scoreboard that Saturday evening.

Botham made 149 not out as England, following on, beat the Aussies by 18 runs. For three hours the country seemed to stop. In the next Test, at Edgbaston, Botham took five wickets for one run as Australia fell under his spell. Then, at Old Trafford, on a dank Saturday afternoon, he played the most memorable innings of his life and one of the greatest innings ever played by an Englishman: 118 magnificent, joyful runs. Joy: that’s the word. Botham brought joy into people’s lives.

Yet it was the final Test at the Oval, which ended in a draw, that brought from him a performance no less remarkable than those from before. He bowled 89 overs in that match, flat out, continuing to run in when others withdrew with injury. That was the team man coming to the fore. Little wonder his comrades thought the world of him.

Modest, loyal, respectful to opponents, grateful to all who have lent him a hand, and supported throughout a turbulent life by Kath, his rock of a wife, and their three children, this is a cricketing hero to rank with W G Grace, Jack Hobbs, Wally Hammond and Fred Trueman. A feature in the lives of all who saw him, and a very English hero. 

This article first appeared in the 26 November 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Terror vs the State