What if ... Gordon Brown was leading the Eurozone crisis?

The former PM's reputation deserves to be reconsidered in light of Europe's current economic problem

Not since the Second World War have the eyes of the world been so fixed on watching events unfold in Europe. There is a palpable sense that history is being made in front of us. Will the leaders of the old continent finally get their act together and solve the sovereign debt crisis - or will their inaction push the global economy off a cliff? This crisis has been going on too long. People are getting impatient. Obama is not alone in wondering what on earth Merkel, Sarkozy, Barroso, Van Rompuy and the others are doing. Summit after summit has failed to bring closure. The recent G20 in Cannes was depressingly and predictably a non-event.

No one denies the intimidating magnitude of this crisis but it is escalating out of control precisely because EU leaders are not doing "whatever it takes" to avert disaster. Many are simply not up to it. Papandreou and Berlusconi have been swept from office. Who will be next?

Reflecting on this display of inept leadership Jonathan Freedland rightly and boldly suggests that it calls for a re-evaluation of Gordon Brown's much maligned premiership. He should be congratulated for offering an important corrective to the standard media portrayal of our last prime minister. As Anthony Seldon and I argue in our book Brown at 10 despite being so hopelessly unsuited to the job of Prime Minister, history will be kinder to Brown because of the way he handled his major test: his response to the global banking crisis of 2008-09. Of course Brown was responsible for profound errors, of which the most significant was probably his contemptible failure to come to power equipped with a distinct programme of his own, but Brown's record as Prime Minster demands candour and honesty.

Brown's unrelenting determination to block Blair's ambition to take Britain into the euro illustrates how the records of political leaders can be transformed by the passage of time. As the crisis in the eurozone deepens day-by-day who can deny that the country owes Brown a debt of gratitude for keeping us out? Tory eurosceptics should do the decent thing and acknowledge Brown's historic role in safeguarding Britain from monetary union.

Brown is known to be deeply frustrated that he must sit and watch from the sidelines as Merkel and co fiddle around as the eurozone burns. His advice is still sought by the big players, but he once again wants to be leading from the front. Had he secured the top job at the IMF he would have been able to influence events. But this was never really a runner - partly because Brown himself did little to advance his own candidacy and partly because George Osborne in particular would not stand for it and actively lobbied his fellow finance ministers to kill the idea. However, had the course of history taken a different turn back in the autumn of 2009 things might now look very different for Brown - and possibly for the eurozone itself.
 
In that autumn Europe was once again locked in a series of crisis meetings, but this time the dilemma concerned the decision over who should be appointed to the newly created post of EU President and High Representative for Foreign Affairs. As is well known Tony Blair was desperate to become EU President but his bid was always a non-starter: hell would have had to freeze over before Sarkozy and Merkel allowed him to strut the European stage.  
 
Much less well known is that the prospect of a British President had one final flare before being finally extinguished. At a meeting in Berlin Sarkozy, with Merkel's support, told Brown that there was one Briton they were prepared to support: Brown himself. A startled Brown immediately turned down the offer. To have accepted would have meant resigning as prime minister, and whatever else Brown might be he is not a quitter.
 
Sarkozy and Merkel were both fans of Brown. Naturally they found him difficult and irritating, but they admired the leadership he had shown during the financial crisis, indeed they leaned on him heavily. Merkel would regularly call him to pick his brains about how to save the banks. At the height of banking crisis Sarkozy took the unprecedented step of inviting Brown to attend a meeting of Eurozone leaders so he could explain his plans for banking recapitalisation, a plan they subsequently used to devise their own rescue packages. The contrast with the highly marginalised position of David Cameron, who Sarkozy recently berated for trying to muscle in on crucial talks a couple of weeks ago, is striking.
 
Might Brown now regret the decision? Had he taken up the offer he would have the big post-No 10 job he so obviously craves. He would also have an opportunity to resuscitate his reputation after the dark days at No 10. Above all he would be in pole position to help steer Europe away from economic catastrophe. Whatever his other short comings - and there were many - his record during the 2008-09 global banking crisis, and in particular during the 2009 London G20, revealed his potential as a statesman. It was not pretty but Brown's tenacity and refusal to take no for answer in April 2009 saw him hammer out a deal that helped rebuild confidence in the global economy.

No one would suggest that one person could fix Europe's current troubles, but had he accepted to become Europe's president back in 2009 who can honestly say that he would not have gripped the current economic crisis more effectively than the woeful leadership currently on display?  The irony of Brown, the man who twice vetoed British membership of the euro, saving the same currency from oblivion makes for an intriguing 'what if' in contemporary political history.
 
Guy Lodge is an Associate Director at IPPR, and co-author (with Anthony Seldon) of Brown at 10
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Guy Lodge is associate director at IPPR. He is co-author with Iain McLean and Jim Gallagher of Scotland’s Choices: the referendum and what happens afterwards and with Anthony Seldon of Brown at Ten.

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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.

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