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The NS Interview: Linda-Gail Bekker

“So many of our people live daily with the effects of HIV”

Your work focuses on HIV and tuberculosis. What does that involve? What's the plan?
Here in Southern Africa, children are getting TB in huge numbers. They don't get the disease immediately, but they become infected. When you superimpose the HIV epidemic on top of that, you speed up the progress of the illness - so the TB infection becomes TB disease in young adulthood because of their immune deficiency. We have to think of TB and HIV together almost as a new disease. That requires us to go back to fundamentals, but also to think outside the box. What will be the new interventions? What else could we be doing?

What drew you to work in the field?
I was born in Zimbabwe, and came to UCT [the University of Cape Town] to do my medicine degree. It was the late 1980s and the HIV epidemic was just breaking for us. I remember a strong sense of frustration, anxiety, impotence - I didn't fully understand what was going on and wanted to know more. I went on to do my PhD in host immunology, which I am still fascinated by. But as time has gone on, I've been drawn to the hands-on side of things. I'm really a closet social worker these days.

Are you engaged in the politics of South Africa?
Well, I think we are activists at heart simply because, again, you can't work in this field and not be politically aware. We work hard to change policy, but through evidence. And that's a slow and often arduous process.

Do you personally feel political? Do you vote?
Oh, yes. I came from Zimbabwe, perhaps politically quite naive, to UCT, which was a very liberal university in those days. I had quite a political awakening as a result of that.

In what way?
I came to university in the 1980s, an incredibly volatile time in SA's history. And the 1990s was the most extraordinarily liberating period. That initial starry-eyed, honeymoon phase is a little bit over. We really need to roll up our sleeves and say: "What are the issues at hand?"

Do you think there's been a lack of political leadership in South Africa?
Yes. Civil society became the leaders: we have had to take on the government on some occasions. On other occasions we've taken on the pharmaceutical companies with the government. SA has huge challenges still - some days you kind of recognise that it's a big job, and how ever are we going to meet all the challenges? But the little triumphs along the way do count. I think we are making progress.

You've just won the Royal Society Pfizer Award for your research into HIV and tuberculosis. What does the prize mean to you?
I'm overwhelmed. I think one of the aspects of working in this part of the world is that you get on with the job, you get lost in the day-to-day work. So when somebody stops and acknowledges you, it's a very pleasant surprise.

It's said you marry science and humanity.
HIV and TB are just so much a part of our lives. A good part of our workforce lives openly with HIV. I have had TB and had to take treatment.
It really is very tangible for us: you're dealing with it not only at work, but in everyday life.

How do you balance your work with the rest of your life?
I married someone in exactly the same field. He's the director of the HIV centre at UCT and I'm deputy director, and we run the foundation together, so a lot of our work comes home. But we have a great work team who can be relied upon. We have two grown-up children and a seven-year-old, Oliver, who started life with an embryonic carcinoma, so the first three years of his life we camped at the Red Cross children's hospital because he needed chemotherapy. Once you've got beyond that, you pretty much feel you could cope with most things!

Is there anything you regret?
I've loved being a mother. I could have quite enjoyed another child. But no, I don't think I have any regrets at all. The only thing is that I would have done more of everything.

Would you ever like to live anywhere else?
I'm inherently an African: I'm fourth-generation. It's hard for me to think of living anywhere other than Africa. Certainly, the work I do seems most relevant here. I lived for some time in New York and I loved it. But what makes me want to stay here for the moment is just the relevance. I'm a hands-on person. I like to engage with the community, with the staff. I think that's where my talent is.

Are we all doomed?
I don't think so, but I can see why you would ask. When you look at TB-HIV figures you wonder what the next terrible virus or pathogen is that's waiting around the corner. But the thing that strikes me daily is the resilience of humanity. Human beings find a way.

Linda-Gail Bekker is deputy director of the Desmond Tutu HIV Centre at the University of Cape Town and chief operating officer of the Desmond Tutu HIV Foundation.

Read a longer version of the interview.

Sophie Elmhirst is features editor of the New Statesman

This article first appeared in the 09 November 2009 issue of the New Statesman, Castro

Ralph Steadman for the New Statesman.
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Tim Farron: Theresa May is "the prisoner of the Ukip wing of her party"

The Liberal Democrat leader on his faith, Blairism and his plan to replace Labour as the opposition. 

This is Tim Farron’s seventh general election. His first was in 1992, when his Tory opponent was a 36-year-old called Ther­esa May. He was just 21 and they were both unsuccessful candidates in the Labour fortress of North-West Durham. He recalls talking “to a bunch of ex-miners who weren’t best pleased to see either of us, some kid Liberal and some Tory”. Now he sees his former and current opponent as “the prisoner of the Ukip wing of her party . . . I think it has rendered Ukip almost pointless – she is Ukip now.”

May was elected to parliament in 1997, but it took Farron until 2005 to join her. She leads the dominant Conservatives while he heads a party of only nine Liberal Democrat MPs. Still, their reversal of fortunes gives him hope. “After the 1992 election, every­one said there’s no way for a non-Tory government, and it turned out there was. So let’s not assume it’s a given there’s a Tory government [for ever].”

In April, I accompanied Farron to Manchester Gorton, in the lead-up to a by-election that was cancelled by May’s decision to call a snap election on 8 June. Still, the 46-year-old’s party has been in campaign mode for months; Lib Dems spoke of using last December’s Richmond Park by-election to test their messaging. It clearly had an effect: the incumbent Conservative, Zac Goldsmith, lost to their candidate, Sarah Olney.

Brexit, to which the Liberal Democrats are vehemently opposed, will be a dominant theme of the election. Their party membership has just exceeded 100,000, close to an all-time high, and they have enjoyed much success in council by-elections, with more to come in the local elections of 4 May.

However, any feel-good factor swiftly evaporated when Farron appeared on Channel 4 News on 18 April. He was asked by the co-presenter Cathy Newman whether or not he believes that homosexuality is a sin, a question that he answered obliquely in 2015 by saying that Christianity started with acknowledging that “we’re all sinners”.

This time, he told Newman, he was “not in the position to make theological announcements over the next six weeks . . . as a Liberal, I’m passionate about equality”.

The Channel 4 interview divided opinion. One Liberal politician told me that Farron’s stance was “completely intolerable”. Stephen Pollard, the influential editor of the Jewish Chronicle, described it as
“a very liberal position: he holds certain personal views but does not wish to legislate around them”. Jennie Rigg, the acting chair of LGBT+ Liberal Democrats, said it was “as plain as the nose on my face that Tim Farron is no homophobe”.

Farron declined the chance to clarify his views with us in a follow-up phone call, but told the BBC on 25 April: “I don’t believe that gay sex is a sin,” adding, “On reflection, it makes sense to actually answer this direct question since it’s become an issue.”

For his critics, Farron’s faith and politics are intertwined. He sees it differently, as he told Christian Today in 2015: “. . . the danger is sometimes that as a Christian in politics you think your job is to impose your morality on other people. It absolutely isn’t.”

Tim Farron joined the then Liberal Party at the age of 16 but didn’t become a Christian until he was 18. Between completing his A-levels in Lancashire and going to Newcastle University to read politics, he read the apologetics, a body of Christian writing that provides reasoned arguments for the gospel story. “I came to the conclusion that it was true,” he told me. “It wasn’t just a feel-good story.”

In speeches, Farron now takes on the mannerisms of a preacher, but he had a largely non-religious upbringing in Preston, Lancashire. “I don’t think I’d been to church once other than Christmas or the odd wedding,” he says. “I went once with my dad when I was 11, for all the good that did me.”

When we meet, it is Theresa May’s religion that is in the spotlight. She has condemned the National Trust for scrubbing the word “Easter” from its Easter egg hunt, a row it later emerged had been largely invented by the right-wing press in response to a press release from a religious-themed chocolate company.

“It’s worth observing there’s no mention of chocolate or bunny rabbits in the Bible,” Farron reminds me. “When people get cross about, in inverted commas, ‘us losing our Christian heritage’ they mean things which are safe and comfortable and nostalgic.” He pauses. “But the Christian message at Easter is shocking, actually, and very radical.”

British politics is tolerant of atheists (such as Ed Miliband and Nick Clegg) alongside those who, like David Cameron, are culturally Christian but whose faith is “a bit like the reception for Magic FM in the Chilterns: it sort of comes and goes”. But the reaction to Farron’s equivocation on homosexuality prompted many to wonder if a politician who talks openly about his faith is now seen as alarming. Nebulous wishes of peace and love at Christmas, yes; sincere discussions of the literal truth of the Resurrection? Hmm.

Tim Farron’s beliefs matter because he has a mission: to replace not only Jeremy Corbyn as leader of the opposition but Theresa May in Downing Street. Over lassis at the MyLahore curry house in Manchester, he tells me that Britain is facing two calamities. “One is Brexit, indeed hard Brexit . . . and the other is a Tory government for 25 years. We have to present a genuine, progressive alternative that can not only replace Labour as an opposition, it can replace the Tories as a government.” This is ambitious talk for a party with nine MPs. “I understand the ridicule that will be thrown at me for saying those things: but if you don’t want to run the country, why are you in politics?” He pauses. “That’s a question I would ask most people leading the Labour Party at present.”

What does he think of May, his one-time opponent in North-West Durham? “She strikes me as being very professional, very straightforward, somebody who is very conservative in every sense of the word, in her thought processes, her politics, in her style.” He recalls her 2002 conference speech in which she warned Tory activists: “Our base is too narrow and so, occasionally, are our sympathies. You know what some people call us: the nasty party.”

“In many ways, she was the trailblazer for Cameron in being a softer-focused Tory,” he says. “It now looks like she’s been trapped by the very people she was berating as the nasty party all those years ago. I like to think that isn’t really her. But that means she isn’t really in control of the Conservative Party.”

Voters, however, seem to disagree. In recent polls, support for the Conservatives has hovered between 40 and 50 per cent. Isn’t a progressive alliance the only way to stop her: Labour, the Liberal Democrats, the Greens, the SNP and Plaid Cymru all working together to beat the Tories?

“Let’s be really blunt,” he says. “Had Jeremy Corbyn stood down for us in Richmond Park [where Labour stood Christian Wolmar], we would not have won. I could have written Zac Goldsmith’s leaflets for you: Corbyn-backed Liberal Democrats.

“I’m a pluralist,” he adds. “But any progressive alliance has got to be at least equal to the sum of its parts. At the moment, it would be less than the sum of its parts. The only way the Tories are losing their majority is us gaining seats in Hazel Grove –” he ticks them off with his fingers, “– in Cheadle, in the West Country and west London. There’s no chance of us gaining those seats if we have a kind of arrangement with the current Labour Party in its current form.”

What about the SNP? “Most sensible people would look at that SNP manifesto and agree with 99 per cent of it,” Farron says. “But it’s that one thing: they want to wreck the country! How can you do a deal with people who want to wreck the country?”

There’s no other alternative, he says. Someone needs to step up and offer “something that can appeal to progressive younger voters, pro-Europeans and, you know, moderate-thinking Middle England”. He wants to champion a market economy, strong public services, action on climate change, internationalism and free trade.

That sounds like Blairism. “I’m a liberal, and I don’t think Blair was a liberal,” he replies. “But I admire Blair because he was somebody who was able to win elections . . . Iraq aside, my criticisms of Blair are what he didn’t do, rather than what he did do.”

Turning around the Tory tide – let alone with just nine MPs, and from third place – is one hell of a job. But Farron takes heart from the Liberal Party in Canada, where Justin Trudeau did just that. “I’m not Trudeau,” he concedes, “He was better-looking, and his dad was prime minister.”

There is a reason for his optimism. “I use the analogy of being in a maze,” he says, “You can’t see a way out of it, for a progressive party to form a majority against the Tories. But in every maze, there is a way out. We just haven’t found it yet.” 

Stephen Bush is special correspondent at the New Statesman. His daily briefing, Morning Call, provides a quick and essential guide to British politics.

This article first appeared in the 27 April 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Cool Britannia 20 Years On

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