Is Cameron a statesman or a showman?

The truth is that David Cameron caught a break over Libya. But next time he may not be so lucky

Some good news for Nick Clegg. He has an admirer. Now the bad news. His fan is sitting 2,000 miles away in the West Bank town of Ramallah.

"If I was living in Britain I'd vote for Clegg," says Dr Husam Zomlot, deputy commissioner for international relations for Fatah. "I'm still what you call left-wing, but obviously after what the Labour government did I couldn't support them." He smiles, "I'm speaking in a personal capacity, of course."

In a few hours he is preparing to depart for a visit to London and other European capitals. He will be travelling in expectation, not just hope.

"We're looking to Europe to help us move the process forward. Britain, Germany and France are key." Is Britain now seen to be playing a positive role from the Palestinian point of view? "Absolutely. Cameron and Hague have come a long way. They're prepared to take an independent line from the United States. This is very important."

The product of the Bullingdon Club and the product of the PLO executive committee have found common cause.

Ever be a diplomat

In the centre of Jerusalem, Mark Regev, official spokesman for the Israeli prime minister, Binyamin Netanyahu, has a different perspective on David Cameron's role in the search for regional peace.

"To be honest, I'm not really that up to speed with current UK policy, or changes from the stance of the previous UK administration," says Regev. "You're better off putting that question to one of my colleagues in the foreign affairs ministry."

Contrast with his response on the status of other allies. "Prime Minister Netanyahu and Prime Minister Papandreou are on the phone constantly. We have an excellent relationship with the Cypriots, who are an important regional partner. We are developing our links with eastern European states like Bulgaria."

Regev's ignorance of UK policy is, of course, diplomatic. Other Israeli officials are more blunt: "What do we think when we hear the British Prime Minister referring to Gaza as a prison camp? It won't surprise you to learn we don't find it helpful."

Statements of intent

When Tony Blair said in the wake of September 11, "the kaleidoscope has been shaken. The pieces are in flux", he wasn't kidding. If you view Iraq as Blair's nemesis, and his departure the beginning of the end of the Labour government, the reordered image in which a Tory PM is praised in Ramallah and subtly snubbed in Jerusalem is uneasy on the eye but was foreseeable.

On one level, this strange state of affairs is simply the fruition of a stance trailed by William Hague as far back as 2006. Any article written by the then shadow foreign secretary headlined "We should not be afraid to criticise Israel" would send a signal. That it was written at precisely the moment Hezbollah was sending 4,000 Katyusha rockets slamming into Israeli cities, and Tel Aviv was pledging "a very painful and far-reaching response", represented a clear statement of policy intent for a future Tory government.

There is also the political reality on the ground. The peace process has stalled, the Netanyahu coalition has neither the wit nor the political capital to restart it, and Downing Street clearly feels there is little to be lost in ruffling the feathers of a lame-duck administration.

But there is another factor. Cameron simply cannot help approaching foreign affairs like a bull in search of a china shop. It may be unfashionable to say this at a time when he is being widely feted as the Lion of Benghazi. But though his instincts on Libya were right, his policy implementation has been lousy. Lest we forget, it was his Foreign Secretary who informed the world a no-fly zone was unnecessary, except perhaps over Caracas.

It was Cameron himself who marched the troops up the hill in his initial statement to the Commons, only to have his spokesman spin them back down again 24 hours later. Britain's Prime Minister failed to get even the principle of a military response inserted into the EU's Libya communiqué, didn't talk to the US president for nine full days in advance of the tabling of the no-fly resolution, and had to rely on the Arab League to convince the US that they had the necessary cover to take a resolution to the UN.

The truth is David Cameron caught a break over Libya. Next time he may not be so lucky. And next time is fast approaching.

Play it big?

Let us return to Dr Zomlot. His visit is not to exchange pleasantries. It's part of a concerted push for full EU recognition of a Palestinian state, regardless of the status of the peace process, when the Obama deadline for resolution expires in September.

On present form, Cameron may be inclined to pitch to the gallery. Recognition would be a bold gesture. And our Prime Minister has a taste for the big political play.

But not automatically the right one. The collapse of negotiations was not necessarily viewed as harmful by the Palestinians, in particular Hamas. Recognition would not of itself kick-start that process, very possibly the reverse. And recognising a state governed by a political authority that has consistently postponed elections, in the face of opposition from what, inconveniently for Israel's critics, remains the Middle East's only true functioning democracy, would hardly fit the spirit of the "Arab spring".

David Cameron has survived his first significant foreign-policy trial, but he's done so by the skin of his teeth. Those to come will require statesmanship, not showmanship. His reaction to premature calls for Palestinian statehood will test whether he possesses it.

Getty
Show Hide image

Love a good box set? Then you should watch the Snooker World Championships

The game relies on a steady arm, which relies on a steady nerve. The result is a slow creeping tension needs time and space to be properly enjoyed and endured. 

People are lazy and people are impatient. This has always been so – just ask Moses or his rock – but as illustrated by kindly old Yahweh, in those days they could not simply answer those impulses and stroll on.

Nowadays, that is no longer so. Twitter, YouTube and listicles reflect a desire for complex and involved issues, expansive and nuanced sports – what we might term quality – to be condensed into easily digestible morsels for effort-free enjoyment.

There is, though, one notable exception to this trend: the box set. Pursuing a novelistic, literary sensibility, it credits its audience with the power of sentience and tells riveting stories slowly, unfolding things in whichever manner that it is best for them to unfold.

In the first episode of the first series of The Sopranos, we hear Tony demean his wife Carmela's irritation with him via the phrase “always with the drama”; in the seventh episode of the first series we see his mother do likewise to his father; and in the 21st and final episode of the sixth and final series, his son uses it on Carmela. It is precisely this richness and this care that makes The Sopranos not only the finest TV show ever made, but the finest artefact that contemporary society has to offer. It forces us to think, try and feel.

We have two principal methods of consuming art of this ilk - weekly episode, or week-long binge. The former allows for anticipation and contemplation, worthy pursuits both, but of an entirely different order to the immersion and obsession offered by the latter. Who, when watching the Wire, didn’t find themselves agreeing that trudat, it's time to reup the dishwasher salt, but we’ve run out, ain’t no thing. Losing yourself in another world is rare, likewise excitement at where your mind is going next.

In a sporting context, this can only be achieved via World Championship snooker. Because snooker is a simple, repetitive game, it is absorbing very quickly, its run of play faithfully reflected by the score.

But the Worlds are special. The first round is played over ten frames – as many as the final in the next most prestigious competition – and rather than the usual week, it lasts for 17 magical days, from morning until night. This bestows upon us the opportunity to, figuratively at least, put away our lives and concentrate. Of course, work and family still exist, but only in the context of the snooker and without anything like the same intensity. There is no joy on earth like watching the BBC’s shot of the championship compilation to discover that not only did you see most of them live, but that you have successfully predicted the shortlist.

It is true that people competing at anything provides compelling drama, emotion, pathos and bathos - the Olympics proves this every four years. But there is something uniquely nourishing about longform snooker, which is why it has sustained for decades without significant alteration.

The game relies on a steady arm, which relies on a steady nerve. The result is a slow creeping tension needs time and space to be properly enjoyed and endured. Most frequently, snooker is grouped with darts as a non-athletic sport, instead testing fine motor skills and the ability to calculate angles, velocity and forthcoming shots. However, its tempo and depth is more similar to Test cricket – except snooker trusts so much in its magnificence that it refuses to compromise the values which underpin it.

Alfred Hitchcock once explained that if two people are talking and a bomb explodes without warning, it constitutes surprise; but if two people are talking and all the while a ticking bomb is visible under the table, it constitutes suspense. “In these conditions,” he said, “The same innocuous conversation becomes fascinating because the public is participating in the scene. The audience is longing to warn the characters on the screen: ‘You shouldn't be talking about such trivial matters. There is a bomb beneath you and it is about to explode!’”

Such is snooker. In more or less every break, there will at some point be at least one difficult shot, loss of position or bad contact – and there will always be pressure. Add to that the broken flow of things – time spent waiting for the balls to stop, time spent prowling around the table, time spent sizing up the table, time spent cleaning the white, time spent waiting for a turn – and the ability for things to go wrong is constantly in contemplation.

All the more so in Sheffield’s Crucible Theatre. This venue, in its 40th year of hosting the competition, is elemental to its success. Place is crucial to storytelling, and even the word “Crucible” – whether “a ceramic or metal container in which metals or other substances may be melted or subjected to very high temperatures,” “a situation of severe trial”, or Arthur Miller’s searing play – conjures images of destruction, injustice and nakedness. And the actual Crucible is perhaps the most atmospheric arena in sport - intimate, quiet, and home to a legendarily knowledgeable audience, able to calculate when a player has secured a frame simply by listening to commentary through an earpiece and applauding as soon as the information is communicated to them.

To temper the stress, snooker is also something incredibly comforting. This is partly rooted in its scheduling. Working day and late-night sport is illicit and conspiratorial, while its presence in revision season has entire cohorts committing to “just one more quick frame”, and “just one more quick spliff”. But most powerfully of all, world championship snooker triggers memory and nostalgia, a rare example of something that hasn’t changed, as captivating now as it was in childhood.

This wistfulness is complemented by sensory pleasure of the lushest order. The colours of both baize and balls are the brightest, most engaging iterations imaginable, while the click of cue on ball, the clunk of ball on ball and the clack of ball on pocket is deep and musical; omnipresent and predictable, they combine for a soundtrack that one might play to a baby in the womb, instead of whale music or Megadeth.

Repeating rhythms are also set by the commentators, former players of many years standing. As is natural with extended coverage of repetitive-action games, there are numerous phrases that recur:

“We all love these tactical frames, but the players are so good nowadays that one mistake and your opponent’s in, so here he is, looking to win the frame at one visit ... and it’s there, right in the heart of the pocket for frame and match! But where’s the cue ball going! it really is amazing what can happen in the game of snooker, especially when we’re down to this one-table situation.”

But as omniscient narrators, the same men also provide actual insight, alerting us to options and eventualities of which we would otherwise be ignorant. Snooker is a simple game but geometry and physics are complicated, so an expert eye is required to explain them intelligibly; it is done with a winning combination of levity and sincerity.

The only essential way in which snooker is different is the standard of play. The first round of this year’s draw featured eight past winners, only two of whom have made it to the last four, and there were three second-round games that were plausible finals.

And just as literary fiction is as much about character as plot, so too is snooker. Nothing makes you feel you know someone like studying them over years at moments of elation and desolation, pressure and release, punctuated by TV confessions of guilty pleasures, such as foot massages, and bucket list contents, such as naked bungee jumping.

It is probably true that there are not as many “characters” in the game as once there were, but there are just as many characters, all of whom are part of that tradition. And because players play throughout their adult life, able to establish their personalities, in unforgiving close-up, over a number of years, they need not be bombastic to tell compelling stories, growing and undergoing change in the same way as Dorothea Brooke or Paulie Gualtieri.

Of no one is this more evident that Ding Junhui, runner-up last year and current semi-finalist this; though he is only 30, we have been watching him almost half his life. In 2007, he reached the final of the Masters tournament, in which he faced Ronnie O’Sullivan, the most naturally talented player ever to pick up a cue – TMNTPETPUAC for short. The crowd were, to be charitable, being boisterous, and to be honest, being pricks, and at the same time, O’Sullivan was playing monumentally well. So at the mid-session interval, Ding left the arena in tears and O’Sullivan took his arm in consolation; then when Ding beat O’Sullivan in this year’s quarter-final, he rested his head on O’Sullivan’s shoulder and exchanged words of encouragement for words of respect. It was beautiful, it was particular, and it was snooker.

Currently, Ding trails Mark Selby, the “Jester from Leicester” – a lucky escape, considering other rhyming nouns - in their best of 33 encounter. Given a champion poised to move from defending to dominant, the likelihood is that Ding will remain the best player never to win the game’s biggest prize for another year.

Meanwhile, the other semi-final pits Barry Hawkins, a finalist in 2013, against John Higgins, an undisputed great and three-time champion. Higgins looks likely to progress, and though whoever wins through will be an outsider, both are eminently capable of taking the title. Which is to say that, this weekend, Planet Earth has no entertainment more thrilling, challenging and enriching than events at the Crucible Theatre, Sheffield.

0800 7318496