Fraser Nelson's climate change denial

Why doesn't the Spectator "get" global warming?

The Monbiot/Spectator row over that magazine's ludicrous coverage of the greatest challenge facing mankind this century -- that of anthropogenic climate change -- rumbles on. Monbiot used his Guardian column this week to accuse the Speccie of publishing a cover story ("Relax: global warming is all a myth") "grounded in gibberish". The Spectator's resident controversialist, Rod Liddle, responded to Monbiot's claim, on his new blog, in a typically reasoned and reasonable manner: "You pompous, monomaniacal jackass."

So where does the new Speccie editor, Fraser Nelson, stand on the row, inherited from his "mischievous" predecessor Matthew d'Ancona? In a recent post pointing out a "spectacular U-turn" by the magazine on a critical climate-related issue -- the level of Arctic sea ice -- Will Straw's new Left Foot Foward blog asked: "Are we witnessing a new editorial line on climate change . . . ?"

Judging by Nelson's post on the Coffee House blog yesterday -- "An empty chair for Monbiot" -- the short answer is "no". He refers to climate-change deniers as advocates of "global warming realism". He also poses the following question:

I wonder what he [Monbiot] makes about this US Senate list of 700 scientists who dissent over man-made global warming -- are they all bonkers?

They're not "bonkers", Fraser, they're simply wrong, in a tiny minority and not even qualified to proffer an opinion on the subject: the vast majority of them are not climate scientists, nor have they published in fields relevant to climate science. The list of "700 scientists" Nelson refers to has been subjected to extensive examination by the Centre for Inquiry think tank in the United States, and it reported in July:

After assessing 687 individuals named as "dissenting scientists" in the January 2009 version of the United States Senate Minority Report, the Centre for Inquiry's Credibility Project found that:

- Slightly fewer than 10 per cent could be identified as climate scientists.
- Approximately 15 per cent published in the recognisable refereed literature on subjects related to climate science.
- Approximately 80 per cent clearly had no refereed publication record on climate science at all.
- Approximately 4 per cent appeared to favour the current IPCC-2007 consensus and should not have been on the list.

The report also adds that some of the scientists "were identified as meteorologists, and some of these people were employed to report the weather".

The author of the report, Dr Stuart Jordan, retired emeritus senior staff scientist at the Nasa Goddard Space Flight Centre, concluded that the much-vaunted Senate list "is one more effort of a contrarian community to block corrective action to address a major -- in this case global -- problem fraught with harmful consequences for human welfare and the environment".

It is a "contrarian community" which, sadly, now includes the educated and intelligent journalists of the Spectator. But there is a bigger question here. "Why is this issue," as Monbiot asks in his column, "uniquely viewed as fair game by editors who tread carefully around other scientific issues for fear of making idiots of themselves? And where is the mischief in doing what hundreds of publications and broadcasters have already done -- claiming that man-made climate change is a myth?"

 

 

Mehdi Hasan is a contributing writer for the New Statesman and the co-author of Ed: The Milibands and the Making of a Labour Leader. He was the New Statesman's senior editor (politics) from 2009-12.

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If there’s no booze or naked women, what’s the point of being a footballer?

Peter Crouch came out with one of the wittiest football lines. When asked what he thought he would have been but for football, he replied: “A virgin.”

At a professional league ground near you, the following conversation will be taking place. After an excellent morning training session, in which the players all worked hard, and didn’t wind up the assistant coach they all hate, or cut the crotch out of the new trousers belonging to the reserve goalie, the captain or some senior player will go into the manager’s office.

“Hi, gaffer. Just thought I’d let you know that we’ve booked the Salvation Hall. They’ll leave the table-tennis tables in place, so we’ll probably have a few games, as it’s the players’ Christmas party, OK?”

“FECKING CHRISTMAS PARTY!? I TOLD YOU NO CHRISTMAS PARTIES THIS YEAR. NOT AFTER LAST YEAR. GERROUT . . .”

So the captain has to cancel the booking – which was actually at the Salvation Go Go Gentlemen’s Club on the high street, plus the Saucy Sporty Strippers, who specialise in naked table tennis.

One of the attractions for youths, when they dream of being a footballer or a pop star, is not just imagining themselves number one in the Prem or number one in the hit parade, but all the girls who’ll be clambering for them. Young, thrusting politicians have similar fantasies. Alas, it doesn’t always work out.

Today, we have all these foreign managers and foreign players coming here, not pinching our women (they’re too busy for that), but bringing foreign customs about diet and drink and no sex at half-time. Rotters, ruining the simple pleasures of our brave British lads which they’ve enjoyed for over a century.

The tabloids recently went all pious when poor old Wayne Rooney was seen standing around drinking till the early hours at the England team hotel after their win over Scotland. He’d apparently been invited to a wedding that happened to be going on there. What I can’t understand is: why join a wedding party for total strangers? Nothing more boring than someone else’s wedding. Why didn’t he stay in the bar and get smashed?

Even odder was the behaviour of two other England stars, Adam Lallana and Jordan Henderson. They made a 220-mile round trip from their hotel in Hertfordshire to visit a strip club, For Your Eyes Only, in Bournemouth. Bournemouth! Don’t they have naked women in Herts? I thought one of the points of having all these millions – and a vast office staff employed by your agent – is that anything you want gets fixed for you. Why couldn’t dancing girls have been shuttled into another hotel down the road? Or even to the lads’ own hotel, dressed as French maids?

In the years when I travelled with the Spurs team, it was quite common in provincial towns, after a Saturday game, for players to pick up girls at a local club and share them out.

Like top pop stars, top clubs have fixers who can sort out most problems, and pleasures, as well as smart solicitors and willing police superintendents to clear up the mess afterwards.

The England players had a night off, so they weren’t breaking any rules, even though they were going to play Spain 48 hours later. It sounds like off-the-cuff, spontaneous, home-made fun. In Wayne’s case, he probably thought he was doing good, being approachable, as England captain.

Quite why the other two went to Bournemouth was eventually revealed by one of the tabloids. It is Lallana’s home town. He obviously said to Jordan Henderson, “Hey Hendo, I know a cool club. They always look after me. Quick, jump into my Bentley . . .”

They spent only two hours at the club. Henderson drank water. Lallana had a beer. Don’t call that much of a night out.

In the days of Jimmy Greaves, Tony Adams, Roy Keane, or Gazza in his pomp, they’d have been paralytic. It was common for players to arrive for training still drunk, not having been to bed.

Peter Crouch, the former England player, 6ft 7in, now on the fringes at Stoke, came out with one of the wittiest football lines. When asked what he thought he would have been but for football, he replied: “A virgin.”

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 01 December 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Age of outrage