Black humour in Scotland Yard?

The gathering of the clans

Glencoe was the sight of the massacre of the MacDonalds - so it was perhaps not the most prudent name for the police operation to manage demonstrations marking the convergence of G20 leaders on London this week. Black humour in Scotland Yard perhaps?

On the eve of the protests, Socialist Unity predicted police brutality. Recalling Gleneagles, John Wright wrote: “It was inevitable that there would be trouble, though it was not started by protesters... [w]hat began as a good humoured protest by a group of protesters, the self styled Clown Army, who many will have seen on demos up and down the country engaging in silly antics, soon gave way to ugly scenes of riot police charging into peaceful protesters lashing out indiscriminately”.

And as President Obama flew in and the crowds descended on the City, Anna Bragga at The Green Room was “shaken and appalled” by the policing, finding herself “condemned to a terrifying ordeal of being trapped in a confined space – a section of Princes Street - with an increasingly frustrated and angry group of protesters”. She concluded by calling on Green Party representatives to hold the Met to account for its poor handling of the day.

Not everyone was protesting against unregulated markets. Conservative Home posted images direct from the small but fiesty “pro-capitalist” counter demo. The banner asking “Who is John Galt?” held aloft by students from York University was thought witty by some, alienating by others. Meanwhile their comrades at Samizdata highlighted a study of free banking in 19th century Scotland, arguing that it illustrates a paradigm of the true laissez faire capitalism from which we have long since strayed.

Reactions to the summit were drawing a wry smile from Hopi Sen, who noted: “British Conservative Eurosceptics finding exciting new ways to contort themselves into admiration for the stance of the EUs most statist and regulatory governments,” while suspecting that their warmth towards the French and Germans would be fleeting. Hopi was among the legions of bloggers not invited to blog live from the G20, leaving a rather forlorn Tom Watson tapping away in the “vast airport hangar style media lounge” with little company...

For more thoughtful takes on the summit, read Obsolete on Brown's last throw of the dice and Andrew Brown on the Pope siding with the protesters.

What have we learned this week?

That Iain Dale is a quite wicked man - teasing his poor readers on April Fool's Day with a post claiming that criticism from bloggers (“whose boots I am not fit to lick”) has driven him to withdraw from the Orwell Prize.

Around the World

The Goy's Guide to Israel watched the inaugural session of the new Israeli government and analysed its players based on their choice of outfits, from Bibi's “disgusting spotted mauve tie” to Marina Solodkin's “delightful shawl”.

Video of the Week

This hand shot footage of clashes between police and protesters in the City reflects quite poorly on both.

Quote of the Week

“Oh, and then they trashed RBS. Nice one, guys! Destroy the institution that's owned by, uh, us. The taxpayer. Well done.”

Sadie Smith is unimpressed.

Paul Evans is a freelance journalist, and formerly worked for an MP. He lives in London, but maintains his Somerset roots by drinking cider.
Photo: Getty
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Leaving the cleaning to someone else makes you happier? Men have known that for centuries

Research says avoiding housework is good for wellbeing, but women have rarely had the option.

If you want to be happy, there is apparently a trick: offload the shitwork onto somebody else. Hire cleaner. Get your groceries delivered. Have someone else launder your sheets. These are the findings published by the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, but it’s also been the foundation of our economy since before we had economics. Who does the offloading? Men. Who does the shitwork? Women.

Over the last 40 years, female employment has risen to almost match the male rate, but inside the home, labour sticks stubbornly to old patterns: men self-report doing eight hours of housework a week, while women slog away for 13. When it comes to caring for family members, the difference is even more stark: men do ten hours, and women 23.

For your average heterosexual couple with kids, that means women spend 18 extra hours every week going to the shops, doing the laundry, laying out uniform, doing the school run, loading dishwashers, organising doctors' appointments, going to baby groups, picking things up, cooking meals, applying for tax credits, checking in on elderly parents, scrubbing pots, washing floors, combing out nits, dusting, folding laundry, etcetera etcetera et-tedious-cetera.

Split down the middle, that’s nine hours of unpaid work that men just sit back and let women take on. It’s not that men don’t need to eat, or that they don’t feel the cold cringe of horror when bare foot meets dropped food on a sticky kitchen floor. As Katrine Marçal pointed out in Who Cooked Adam Smiths Dinner?, men’s participation in the labour market has always relied on a woman in the background to service his needs. As far as the majority of men are concerned, domestic work is Someone Else’s Problem.

And though one of the study authors expressed surprise at how few people spend their money on time-saving services given the substantial effect on happiness, it surely isn’t that mysterious. The male half of the population has the option to recruit a wife or girlfriend who’ll do all this for free, while the female half faces harsh judgement for bringing cover in. Got a cleaner? Shouldn’t you be doing it yourself rather than outsourcing it to another woman? The fact that men have even more definitively shrugged off the housework gets little notice. Dirt apparently belongs to girls.

From infancy up, chores are coded pink. Looking on the Toys “R” Us website, I see you can buy a Disney Princess My First Kitchen (fuchsia, of course), which is one in the eye for royal privilege. Suck it up, Snow White: you don’t get out of the housekeeping just because your prince has come. Shop the blue aisle and you’ll find the Just Like Home Workshop Deluxe Carry Case Workbench – and this, precisely, is the difference between masculine and feminine work. Masculine work is productive: it makes something, and that something is valuable. Feminine work is reproductive: a cleaned toilet doesn’t stay clean, the used plates stack up in the sink.

The worst part of this con is that women are presumed to take on the shitwork because we want to. Because our natures dictate that there is a satisfaction in wiping an arse with a woman’s hand that men could never feel and money could never match. That fiction is used to justify not only women picking up the slack at home, but also employers paying less for what is seen as traditional “women’s work” – the caring, cleaning roles.

It took a six-year legal battle to secure compensation for the women Birmingham council underpaid for care work over decades. “Don’t get me wrong, the men do work hard, but we did work hard,” said one of the women who brought the action. “And I couldn’t see a lot of them doing what we do. Would they empty a commode, wash somebody down covered in mess, go into a house full of maggots and clean it up? But I’ll tell you what, I would have gone and done a dustman’s job for the day.”

If women are paid less, they’re more financially dependent on the men they live with. If you’re financially dependent, you can’t walk out over your unfair housework burden. No wonder the settlement of shitwork has been so hard to budge. The dream, of course, is that one day men will sack up and start to look after themselves and their own children. Till then, of course women should buy happiness if they can. There’s no guilt in hiring a cleaner – housework is work, so why shouldn’t someone get paid for it? One proviso: every week, spend just a little of the time you’ve purchased plotting how you’ll overthrow patriarchy for good.

Sarah Ditum is a journalist who writes regularly for the Guardian, New Statesman and others. Her website is here.