In the Critics this week

David Priestland on popular history, Anthony Horowitz interviewed and Sarah Churchwell on Henry James.

In the Critics section of the New Statesman this week, historian David Priestland argues that “the struggle to interpret our history has been won by a complacent liberalism”. He warns that this “is a triumph with serious consequences.” A new form of Whig history has developed, practiced both by those on the centre-right and centre-left, in which “history is seen as a battle between liberalism and totalitarianism.” Andrew Marr’s BBC series History of the World is representative of this trend in that it “assumes, as Margaret Thatcher once put it, that “there is no such thing as society””.

In Books, Mark Leonard, director of the European Council on Foreign Relations, reviews James Mann’s The Obamians “which seeks to paint a portrait of the 44th president’s foreign policy through the prism of his relationships with his closest advisers.” Mann explains how Obama and his “Obamians” wish to develop a doctrine of “low-cost leadership”, the “apotheosis” of which is Libya: “The conflict revealed [Obama’s] willingness to use force and his commitment to humanitarian goals and multilateralism.” Leonard sees Mann building the book up “to a description of a 'pivot to Asia' that could be the beginning of a new era of bipolarity.” If this is so, Obama could come to be seen as “playing a similar role to that played by Harry S Truman in the early stages of the cold war. In that case – like his predecessor – Obama may yet have a doctrine named after him”.

In the Books Interview, Jonathan Derbyshire speaks to children’s author Anthony Horowitz who has just published Oblivion, the last book in the Power of Five series. Horowitz tells Derbyshire that the book was written in the midst of the phone-hacking scandal. As a result, “the three main characters are heavily influenced by the Murdochs.” The author explains that the danger of broaching big issues such as this in children’s literature “is that you forget that your first duty is to entertain, to write books that are page-turners”.

Also in Books: Sarah Churchwell reviews Michael Gorra’s book Portrait of a Novel: Henry James and the Making of an American Masterpiece; Talitha Stevenson reviews Songs of Innocence: the Story of British Childhood by Fran Abrams; and Andrew Adonis looks at Douglas Carswell’s The End of Politics and the Birth of iDemocracy; PLUS: “The Descent”, a poem by Emily Berry.

Elsewhere in the Critics: Rachel Cooke on A History of Horror with Mark Gatiss; Ryan Gilbey gives his verdict on Paul Thomas Anderson’s The Master and the US cut of Stanley Kunbrick’s The Shining; Rachel Haliburton on a London-bound production of Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya; Kate Mossman reviews the album Gonwards by Peter Blegvad and Andy Partridge; and Antonia Quirke denounces the BBC’s cuts to its arts programming. PLUS: The Madness of Crowds by Will Self.

US President Barack Obama. Photo: JEWEL SAMAD/AFP/Getty Images
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Why a man soiling himself was one of my Olympic highlights

The joy of the Olympics is how easy it is to drop in and form strong opinions about the best way to win in any discipline.

There used to be a rumour that a newspaper (now defunct) had in its possession some compromising photographs of the wife of a beloved TV entertainer (now dead) romancing a chihuahua. I mention this because I think John Inverdale must have a similar hold over BBC Sport bosses. How else does he get such great gigs? At the Olympics, if he wasn’t being corrected by Andy Murray about the existence of women, he was having water droplets “accidentally” shaken over him by a sour-faced Steve Redgrave as he aired out his umbrella.

Then again, perhaps Inverdale’s continued employment is the salt in the caramel, or the Tabasco in a Bloody Mary: a small irritant, designed to give a kick to what would otherwise be bland niceness shading into enforced cheeriness. The rest of the Olympic presenters (grumpy Sir Steve possibly excepted) were a bunch of lambs: the sweet Helen Skelton, and the even sweeter Mark Foster and Rebecca Adlington, hosting the swimming; Matt Baker from The One Show and Beth Tweddle doing the gymnastics; that poor bloke they put on the beach so that leery passers-by and lecherous drunken couples could get into his shot. With 306 events over 19 days, I felt as if Clare Balding had moved into my spare room, we were spending so much time together. (The fact I didn’t want to smash my screen every time she came on is proof that she’s worth every penny of her £500,000 salary.)

The time zone difference could have made these Olympics a washout for British viewers, but the BBC used its red-button technology sensibly, and the presenters (mostly) coped with pretending they didn’t know what was going to happen while hosting the highlight reels. Someone at New Broadcasting House even grew a pair as the first week went on and stopped news programmes from intruding on the medal action. Earlier in the week, viewers had been forced to hop from BBC1 to BBC4 to BBC2 to follow their favourite events, the change sometimes occurring at an inopportune moment.

The joy of the Olympics is how easy it is to drop in and form strong opinions about the best way to win in any discipline. Unlike football, say, where true enjoyment requires memorising rafts of statistics and forming strong opinions about the transfer market, all Olympics coverage is designed for people who couldn’t tell one end of a derny bike from the other five minutes ago. Who really understands the rules of the omnium? Luckily, it turns out you don’t need to.

I thought I was going to hate the Olympics, which took place in the shadow of controversies over drug testing, the US swimmer Ryan Lochte’s faked robbery and Caster Semenya’s hormone levels. For all the guff about the international hand of friendship, the Games are a ruthless commercial enterprise, and one in which global inequalities are harshly self-evident. Are Americans just better athletes than the rest of the world? Clearly not. Money buys success. Could most of us, even given a trainer, dietician and acres of free time, qualify for any of these sports? No. Genetically, most of us are Morlocks compared to these people.

Nonetheless, all the natural (and artificial) advantages in the world can’t win you a gold medal if you sit on your sofa and eat Pringles all day. One of my favourite competitions was the gymnastics, where Simone Biles of the United States seemed to dominate effortlessly. Yes, being 4ft 8in clearly helps her – her shorter steps allow her to pack in more tumbles – but she’s still willing to do a somersault on a bar four inches wide. (The dangers of the discipline became clear when the French gymnast Samir Aït Saïd snapped his leg landing off the vault on the first day of qualifying rounds.) In the 50-kilometre race walk, Yohann Diniz pooed himself, collap­sed twice – and still finished in eighth place.

These are the Olympic moments I cherish. Usain Bolt makes it look too easy, which is boring. Without a narrative, sport is little more than a meaningless spectacle – a Michael Bay film or the latest Call of Duty. Luckily, Team GB seemed to heed the call for drama, delivering us a penalty shoot-out victory in the women’s hockey (and a team with a married couple in it); a comeback for Mo Farah after the allegations against his coach Alberto Salazar; and a surprising failure for Tom Daley in the 10-metre dive. We also got to see Laura Trott and Jason Kenny’s races through each other’s eyes.

In other words, bring on Tokyo 2020, so I can grouse about the money and the drugs and the inequality right up to the moment the first person shits themselves – and still finishes the race. Truly, human endeavour is a beautiful sight to behold. 

Helen Lewis is deputy editor of the New Statesman. She has presented BBC Radio 4’s Week in Westminster and is a regular panellist on BBC1’s Sunday Politics.

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser