Mixed metaphors in the AV race

Is AV a horse race or a football match? Or is it just whatever the plebs can understand?

What if a general election were a horse race? No, too complicated. Fences. Horses and jockeys. Difficult to understand. I'll try again. What if a general election were a 100-metre race? Mmm, no, too tricky. Scope for misunderstandings. Lanes cause problems. No, that won't do. That won't do at all. Starting pistols? Photo finishes? All far too hard to understand. Give me a minute.

OK, let's say a general election is just like a cricket match. And the ball is your vote, and the stumps are the winning margin, and you bowl your vote at the winning margin, and . . . no. No, no, no. This isn't helping at all.

I'll try again. Nice and simple. Because you're stupid. Because you're too thick to get the idea of voting, and you need it turned into something that you can understand, because you hate the idea of politics and everything that goes with it; and besides, you don't have the time to think about facts, or problems, or complexity, or nuance – you're just a tot in a crib, waiting for Daddy to tell you a story. You don't want anything other than a happy ending.

Let's face it, you're thick. You're dumb. You're barely more than a dribbling infant slamming its tiny hands into a bowl of goo because you like the way it splatters. That's the level we're trying to pitch this at. Because that's all you're capable of getting. Voting is something that you're afraid of because you're a dummy, and unless we talk to you about it bright colours AND CAPITAL LETTERS and smiley faces, you're not going to get your oh-so-pretty little heads around it, are you?

OK. So. Right. Imagine you're at a football match, right, and the team you wanted to win didn't win because someone else wanted the other team to win, even though they actually wanted your team to win. Yes . . .? No. No, we really aren't making any headway.

OK, let's see if we can try and nudge you in the right direction another way. What if someone you liked thought about voting in a particular way; what would you think then? Look, here's someone famous, them off from off of the television. What do you think now? They look pretty bright, don't they, and they got famous for writing, or being funny, or running around and jumping over hurdles, or whatever it is; and look, they think this way. Or, if that won't convince you, look at these bad people, people you don't like. They're bad people, and they think this way. Now what do you think?

Forget about all those thoughts about things being slightly more complicated than they might at first appear. Try to forget, if you can. It's a miracle you don't burn yourself on the toaster every morning, really, but there it is; you've made it through life this far without too many problems, and so you get given a vote, to do with as you wish. It's just that, well, you don't want to do all that boring stuff about democracy, and representation, or the comparable benefits of different voting systems, do you? You don't want to think about all that. You've got better things to do.

So let's just talk about things in a simplistic, infantile way that you can comprehend, even in your tiny squashy noggin, because you're frankly not bright enough to want to know about anything that's slightly more difficult to grasp than a slap in the face with a gardening glove. Just you leave it to us to tell you how to do it. And there you are! Democracy will be improved unimaginably, just by you putting your vote here. Or there. Wherever we've told you to put it. Because it's the right thing for YOU.

Patrolling the murkier waters of the mainstream media
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Why is it called Storm Doris? The psychological impact of naming a storm

“Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person.”

“Oh, piss off Doris,” cried the nation in unison this morning. No, it wasn't that everyone's local cantankerous old lady had thwacked our ankles with her stick. This is a different, more aggressive Doris. Less Werther’s, more extreme weathers. Less bridge club, more bridge collapse.

This is Storm Doris.

A storm that has brought snow, rain, and furious winds up to 94mph to parts of the UK. There are severe weather warnings of wind, snow and ice across the entire country.

But the real question here is: why is it called that? And what impact does the new Met Office policy of naming storms have on us?

Why do we name storms?

Storm Doris is the latest protagonist in the Met Office’s decision to name storms, a pilot scheme introduced in winter 2015/16 now in its second year.

The scheme was introduced to draw attention to severe weather conditions in Britain, and raise awareness of how to prepare for them.

How do we name storms?

The Name our Storms initiative invites the public to suggest names for storms. You can do this by tweeting the @metoffice using the #nameourstorms hashtag and your suggestion, through its Facebook page, or by emailing them.

These names are collated along with suggestions from Met Éireann and compiled into a list. These are whittled down into 21 names, according to which were most suggested – in alphabetical order and alternating between male and female names. This is done according to the US National Hurricane Naming convention, which excludes the letters Q, U, X, Y and Z because there are thought to be too few common names beginning with these letters.

They have to be human names, which is why suggestions in this list revealed by Wired – including Apocalypse, Gnasher, Megatron, In A Teacup (or Ena Tee Cup) – were rejected. The Met Office received 10,000 submissions for the 2016/17 season. According to a spokesperson, a lot of people submit their own names.

Only storms that could have a “medium” or “high” wind impact in the UK and Ireland are named. If there are more than 21 storms in a year, then the naming system starts from Alpha and goes through the Greek alphabet.

The names for this year are: Angus (19-20 Nov ’16), Barbara (23-24 Dec 2016), Conor (25-26 Dec 2016), Doris (now), Ewan, Fleur, Gabriel, Holly, Ivor, Jacqui, Kamil, Louise, Malcolm, Natalie, Oisín, Penelope, Robert, Susan, Thomas, Valerie and Wilbert.

Why does this violent storm have the name of an elderly lady?

Doris is an incongruous name for this storm, so why was it chosen? A Met Office spokesperson says they were just at that stage in their list of names, and there’s no link between the nature of the storm and its name.

But do people send cosy names for violent weather conditions on purpose? “There’s all sorts in there,” a spokesperson tells me. “People don’t try and use cosy names as such.”

What psychological impact does naming storms have on us?

We know that giving names to objects and animals immediately gives us a human connection with them. That’s why we name things we feel close to: a pet owner names their cat, a sailor names their boat, a bore names their car. We even name our virtual assistants –from Microsoft’s Clippy to Amazon’s Alexa.

This gives us a connection beyond practicality with the thing we’ve named.

Remember the response of Walter Palmer, the guy who killed Cecil the Lion? “If I had known this lion had a name and was important to the country or a study, obviously I wouldn’t have taken it,” he said. “Nobody in our hunting party knew before or after the name of this lion.”

So how does giving a storm a name change our attitude towards it?

Evidence suggests that we take it more seriously – or at least pay closer attention. A YouGov survey following the first seven named storms in the Met Office’s scheme shows that 55 per cent of the people polled took measures to prepare for wild weather after hearing that the oncoming storm had been named.

“There was an immediate acceptance of the storm names through all media,” said Gerald Fleming, Head of Forecasting at Met Éireann, the Irish metereological service. “The severe weather messages were more clearly communicated.”

But personalising a storm can backfire. A controversial US study in 2014 by PNAC (Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences) claimed that hurricanes with female names lead to higher death tolls – the more “feminine” the name, like Belle or Cindy, the higher the death toll. This is not because female names are attached to more severe storms; it is reportedly because people take fewer steps to prepare for storms with names they perceive to be unintimidating or weak.

“In judging the intensity of a storm, people appear to be applying their beliefs about how men and women behave,” Sharon Shavitt, a co-author of the study, told the FT at the time. “This makes a female-named hurricane . . . seem gentler and less violent.”

Names have social connotations, and affect our subconscious. Naming a storm can raise awareness of it, but it can also affect our behaviour towards it.

What’s it like sharing a name with a deadly storm?

We should also spare a thought for the impact sharing a name with a notorious weather event can have on a person. Katrina Nicholson, a nurse who lives in Glasgow, says it was “horrible” when the 2005 hurricane – one of the fifth deadliest ever in the US – was given her name.

“It was horrible having something so destructive associated with my name. Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person,” she tells me over email. “I actually remember at the time meeting an American tourist on a boat trip in Skye and when he heard my name he immediately linked it to the storm – although he quickly felt guilty and then said it was a lovely name! I think to this day there will be many Americans who hate my name because of it.”

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.