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Laurie Penny: The Digital Economy Bill has betrayed the young

Positive engagement with the digital generation interests the political classes only when they want something from us.

On the night before the dissolution of parliament, young people across Great Britain were glued to their laptops, smartphones and television screens in their tens of thousands -- not downloading music videos, but following the passage of the Digital Economy Bill through the Commons wash-up.

After weeks of demonstration, letter-writing and vocal public opposition, young campaigners sat down to watch the results of their determined national effort to halt the passage of the bill, which threatens to summarily disconnect any internet users suspected of sharing copyrighted music and video files.

Most were under no illusion that Peter Mandelson's proposals were targeted at young people, who represent the bulk of file-sharers, and when the handful of MPs present at the debate voted to pass the bill, the response on Twitter was immediate and anguished.

"All three parties screwed us by not thinking properly about the issue. This is the opening salvo in a generational war," said one young activist.

The people behind this storm of political activity are the same young voters whom the press and political classes routinely condemn as apathetic. The prevailing public narrative about Generation Y has us involved in a species of listless social torpor, but it is anger, not apathy, that best describes young people's assessment of politics.

"I'm incensed about the lack of debate on the Digital Economy Bill," said Katie Sutton, a grass-roots campaigner for the Open Rights Group."Twenty thousand letters were sent to MPs expressing concern over the way it was rammed through wash-up with no consideration for the democratic process, and yet 410 MPs just didn't care enough to show up and vote. It's appalling."

 

Digital disengagement

Sutton, who at 22 is a first-time voter with little prior political experience, organised the Stop Disconnection Demonstration outside the Houses of Parliament on 24 March. Hundreds of young people assembled, wearing gags and holding black placards to symbolise their fear of being "silenced". Yet despite this pageant of political passion, many young voters intend to remain silent on election day.

Most of the available polling data predicts that turnout among 18- to 24-year-olds in 2010 will follow the dismal pattern established in 2005, when only 37 per cent of young voters went to the polls, down from 39 per cent at the previous election.

Not voting, however, does not imply not caring: much of the young citizenry disproportionately dispossessed by the financial crash of 2008 has flung itself into civic action, and from Climate Camp to Hope Not Hate, young campaigners have been at the forefront of the progressive political agenda, our energies focusing on single-issue campaigns.

Disenchanted by the corruption and inefficiency of central government, Generation Y is creating its own ways of doing politics, using technology to build campaigns and share ideas. The online "people-powered movement" 38 Degrees, which also fought the Digital Economy Bill, reports that in just ten months of operation its membership has grown to 100,000 -- over half that of the Labour Party.

The Digital Economy backlash is the latest iteration of a youth agenda whose radicalism is overlooked by parliamentary parties where it cannot be exploited.

"My MP claimed to be as concerned as I was when I wrote to him, but he didn't show up to vote," said Barney Carroll, a young web designer. "I don't trust any of the three main parties at present to represent public concerns."

For the young, the sincerest irony of the election period will be watching a party system that has just voted to police our access to transformative technologies lumpenly enthusing over the power of "digital engagement".

After watching Barack Obama surf into the White House on a wave of online campaigning, Westminster routinely flies in members of the president's team to explain to eager parliamentarians precisely why sitting administrations find it difficult to manufacture bespoke grass-roots activity using technology they barely comprehend. The message is plain: positive engagement with the digital generation is of interest to the political classes only when they want something from us.

 

Make some noise

Young people's despair over the state of parliamentary politics should not be mistaken for lazy indifference: many of us crave political change, but are unsure whether choosing between a narrow selection of mainstream parties will bring that change.

"Most young people think politics is important. They think democracy is hugely important. They just don't think their vote matters," said Edmund Ward, 24, an organiser for the Pirate Party.

The young people of Britain have every reason to feel angry and disaffected. Stereotyped by the media, shut out of the economy, saddled with debt and policed by a parliamentary system that claims to advocate "change" while pursuing the votes of middle-aged Middle Englanders in swing seats, many of us cannot imagine that voting will deliver the quiet revolution that we crave.

Our putative revolution is technological and transformative, based on electoral reform and progressive values; it was conceived online, under the radar of the Westminster village, and it may yet change politics for ever. Our revolution will be stillborn, however, if we fail to make our voices heard at the polls.

In an election whose outcome is fascinatingly uncertain, the youth protest vote may still make a very real difference to the shape of the next parliament. Despite the poverty of practical options, young people have much to gain by voting, not least a stake in the political conversation that will determine our cultural inheritance.

Whitehall will not be able to ignore the transformative politics of the digital generation for ever, and those of us who intend to vote on 6 May will do so to remind Westminster that our voices matter, that our values matter, and that a new blueprint for British politics is on its way.

We may have been let down, but the young people of Great Britain have everything to vote for. It's time for Generation Y to make a stand.

Laurie Penny is a writer, journalist and feminist activist from London. Her blog, Penny Red, was nominated for the 2010 Orwell Prize. Her book "Generation Square" will be published later this year by Zero

Join us for the first TV leaders' debate this Thursday.

Laurie Penny is a contributing editor to the New Statesman. She is the author of five books, most recently Unspeakable Things.

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A new German law wants to force mothers to reveal their child’s biological father

The so-called “milkmen’s kids law” would seek protection for men who feel they have been duped into raising children they believe are not biologically theirs – at the expense of women’s rights.

The German press call them “Kuckuckskinder”, which translates literally as “cuckoo children” – parasite offspring being raised by an unsuspecting innocent, alien creatures growing fat at the expense of the host species’ own kind. The British press have opted for the more Benny Hill-esque “milkmen’s kids”, prompting images of bored Seventies housewives answering the door in negligées before inviting Robin Asquith lookalikes up to their suburban boudoirs. Nine months later their henpecked husbands are presented with bawling brats and the poor sods remain none the wiser.

Neither image is particularly flattering to the children involved, but then who cares about them? This is a story about men, women and the redressing of a legal – or is it biological? – injustice. The children are incidental.

This week German Justice Minister Heiko Maas introduced a proposal aimed at to providing greater legal protection for “Scheinväter” – men who are duped into raising children whom they falsely believe to be biologically theirs. This is in response to a 2015 case in which Germany’s highest court ruled that a woman who had told her ex-husband that her child may have been conceived with another man could not be compelled to name the latter. This would, the court decided, be an infringement of the woman’s right to privacy. Nonetheless, the decision was seen to highlight the need for further legislation to clarify and strengthen the position of the Scheinvater.

Maas’ proposal, announced on Monday, examines the problem carefully and sensitively before merrily throwing a woman’s right to privacy out of the window. It would compel a woman to name every man she had sexual intercourse with during the time when her child may have been conceived. She would only have the right to remain silent in cases should there be serious reasons for her not to name the biological father (it would be for the court to decide whether a woman’s reasons were serious enough). It is not yet clear what form of punishment a woman would face were she not to name names (I’m thinking a scarlet letter would be in keeping with the classy, retro “man who was present at the moment of conception” wording). In cases where it did transpire that another man was a child’s biological father, he would be obliged to pay compensation to the man “duped” into supporting the child for up to two years.

It is not clear what happens thereafter. Perhaps the two men shake hands, pat each other on the back, maybe even share a beer or two. It is, after all, a kind of gentlemen’s agreement, a transaction which takes place over the heads of both mother and child once the latter’s paternity has been established. The “true” father compensates the “false” one for having maintained his property in his absence. In some cases there may be bitterness and resentment but perhaps in others one will witness a kind of honourable partnership. You can’t trust women, but DNA tests, money and your fellow man won’t let you down.

Even if it achieves nothing else, this proposal brings us right back to the heart of what patriarchy is all about: paternity and ownership. In April this year a German court ruled that men cannot be forced to take paternity tests by children who suspect them of being their fathers. It has to be their decision. Women, meanwhile, can only access abortion on demand in the first trimester of pregnancy, and even then counselling is mandatory (thereafter the approval of two doctors is required, similar to in the UK). One class of people can be forced to gestate and give birth; another can’t even be forced to take a DNA test. One class of people can be compelled to name any man whose sperm may have ventured beyond their cervix; another is allowed to have a body whose business is entirely its own. And yes, one can argue that forcing men to pay money for the raising of children evens up the score. Men have always argued that, but they’re wrong.

Individual men (sometimes) pay for the raising of individual children because the system we call patriarchy has chosen to make fatherhood about individual ownership. Women have little choice but to go along with this as long as men exploit our labour, restrict our access to material resources and threaten us with violence. We live in a world in which it is almost universally assumed that women “owe” individual men the reassurance that it was their precious sperm that impregnated us, lest we put ourselves and our offspring at risk of poverty and isolation. Rarely do any of us dare to protest. We pretend it is a fair deal, even that reproductive differences barely affect our lives at all. But the sex binary – the fact that sperm is not egg and egg is not sperm – affects all of us.

The original 2015 ruling got it right. The male demand for reassurance regarding paternity is an infringement of a woman’s right to privacy. Moreover, it is important to see this in the context of all the other ways in which men have sought to limit women’s sexual activity, freedom of movement and financial independence in order to ensure that children are truly “theirs”.  Anxiety over paternity is fundamentally linked to anxiety over female sexuality and women’s access to public space. Yet unless all women are kept under lock and key at all times, men will never, ever have the reassurance they crave. Even then, the abstract knowledge that you are the only person to have had the opportunity to impregnate a particular woman cannot rival the physical knowledge of gestation.

We have had millennia of pandering to men’s existential anxieties and treating all matters related to human reproduction, from sex to childbirth, as exceptional cases meaning women cannot have full human rights. Isn’t it about time we tried something new? How about understanding fatherhood not as winning gold in an Olympic sperm race, but as a contract endlessly renewed?

What each of us receives when a child is born is not a biological entity to do with as we choose. It is a relationship, with all of its complexities and risks. It is something worth contributing to and fighting for. Truly, if a man cannot understand that, then any money wasted on a Kuckuckskind – a living, breathing child he could get to know – has got to be the least of his worries. 

Glosswitch is a feminist mother of three who works in publishing.