Debunking five Tory myths about the election result

Challenging the “narrative” that is emerging . . .

Can we take a step back, please? And consider some of the claims that are being made right now by politicians and pundits alike?

1) The Tories are claiming that they "won". This is nonsense. In a hung parliament, by definition, no party can claim "victory". In the British system, you win only when you have a majority in the Commons. Cameron failed to get one.

2) A Lab-Lib coalition government would not be unrepresentative of public opinion. On the contrary, the two parties combined would have the support of 53 per cent of voters. This is the "anti-Conservative" majority that Labour ministers and officials keep refering to. Remember: no government since the Second World War has ever been elected with more than 50 per cent of the vote.

3) Gordon Brown is "defying" the public and "clinging on" to office. Not true. Brown is following consitutional precedent, which ensures continuity of government and gives the prime minister the right to stay on and try to form a coalition that has the confidence of parliament. Brown is behaving as (the Tory) Edward Heath behaved in February 1974.

4) The country wants strong government, which is single-party government. Really? Why then did the voters not give any one of the three major parties a majority in parliament? The reality is that coalitions can be stronger and more effective than single-party administrations -- even in the eyes of the markets. Ten of the 16 governments that enjoy triple-A credit ratings are coalitions. Seven of the largest fiscal consolidations carried out in OECD countries since 1970 occurred under coalition governments.

5) Labour is interested in party advantage; the Tories are concerned about the national interest. Rubbish! As the Telegraph reported this week, the Tories are willing to bribe the Unionist parties in Ulster with up to £200m of taxpayers' cash in the form of postponed public spending cuts in the province. Is this putting the nation first, or is it partisan and self-interested deal-making of the grubbiest kind?

 

 

 

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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A swimming pool and a bleeding toe put my medical competency in doubt

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Sometimes the search engine wins. 

The brutal heatwave affecting southern Europe this summer has become known among locals as “Lucifer”. Having just returned from Italy, I fully understand the nickname. An early excursion caused the beginnings of sunstroke, so we abandoned plans to explore the cultural heritage of the Amalfi region and strayed no further than five metres from the hotel pool for the rest of the week.

The children were delighted, particularly my 12-year-old stepdaughter, Gracie, who proceeded to spend hours at a time playing in the water. Towelling herself after one long session, she noticed something odd.

“What’s happened there?” she asked, holding her foot aloft in front of my face.

I inspected the proffered appendage: on the underside of her big toe was an oblong area of glistening red flesh that looked like a chunk of raw steak.

“Did you injure it?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

I shrugged and said she must have grazed it. She wasn’t convinced, pointing out that she would remember if she had done that. She has great faith in plasters, though, and once it was dressed she forgot all about it. I dismissed it, too, assuming it was one of those things.

By the end of the next day, the pulp on the underside of all of her toes looked the same. As the doctor in the family, I felt under some pressure to come up with an explanation. I made up something about burns from the hot paving slabs around the pool. Gracie didn’t say as much, but her look suggested a dawning scepticism over my claims to hold a medical degree.

The next day, Gracie and her new-found holiday playmate, Eve, abruptly terminated a marathon piggy-in-the-middle session in the pool with Eve’s dad. “Our feet are bleeding,” they announced, somewhat incredulously. Sure enough, bright-red blood was flowing, apparently painlessly, from the bottoms of their big toes.

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Often, what patients discover on the internet causes them undue alarm, and our role is to provide context and reassurance. But not infrequently, people come across information that outstrips our knowledge. On my return from our room with fresh supplies of plasters, my wife looked up from her sun lounger with an air of quiet amusement.

“It’s called ‘pool toe’,” she said, handing me her iPhone. The page she had tracked down described the girls’ situation exactly: friction burns, most commonly seen in children, caused by repetitive hopping about on the abrasive floors of swimming pools. Doctors practising in hot countries must see it all the time. I doubt it presents often to British GPs.

I remained puzzled about the lack of pain. The injuries looked bad, but neither Gracie nor Eve was particularly bothered. Here the internet drew a blank, but I suspect it has to do with the “pruning” of our skin that we’re all familiar with after a soak in the bath. This only occurs over the pulps of our fingers and toes. It was once thought to be caused by water diffusing into skin cells, making them swell, but the truth is far more fascinating.

The wrinkling is an active process, triggered by immersion, in which the blood supply to the pulp regions is switched off, causing the skin there to shrink and pucker. This creates the biological equivalent of tyre treads on our fingers and toes and markedly improves our grip – of great evolutionary advantage when grasping slippery fish in a river, or if trying to maintain balance on slick wet rocks.

The flip side of this is much greater friction, leading to abrasion of the skin through repeated micro-trauma. And the lack of blood flow causes nerves to shut down, depriving us of the pain that would otherwise alert us to the ongoing tissue damage. An adaptation that helped our ancestors hunt in rivers proves considerably less use on a modern summer holiday.

I may not have seen much of the local heritage, but the trip to Italy taught me something new all the same. 

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear