Running with the McCainiacs

A McCain candidacy throws up quite a few problems - many Republicans loathe him plus there are conce

Sometime late last year, amidst the premature furore over who the candidates for each party would be, someone thought it might be an idea to get the President’s impression.

Ever the diplomat, and in what turned out to an unusually prescient observation, Mr Bush advised that the reporters “not count John McCain out”. Given the lame duck nature of the President, this didn’t resonate very far among a press corps who had long been dancing a jig on Senator McCain’s political grave.

Unfortunately for the pundit class, it turns out there’s a trick or two left in the old dog (and I mean both the Pres and Longtooth McCain). With Mormon-Mitt finally admitting defeat and accepting that he really ought to leave some money to his brood rather than blowing it all on buying friends (according to the Economist, at a rate of a whopping $110,000 per delegate, and the Huckaboob keeping going for reasons known only to him and Chuck Norris, John McCain has managed to assume the mantle of “presumptive nominee” for the Republican party.

But les jeux are most certainly not faits – aside from the fact that Senator McCain is taking over an incumbent party whose popularity is rather low, he also faces an internal dilemma within the Republican party, best exemplified by conservative harpy Ann Coulter’s statement that she would "campaign for [Hillary] over McCain". Taking a maybe less attention grabbing perspective, Conservative radio chatterbox Rush Limbaugh weighed in stating that Senator McCain “is not the choice of conservatives, as opposed to the choice of the Republican establishment — and that distinction is key”.

For Adam Quinn, an American policy specialist at the University of Leicester, these sorts of voices merely represent a “rump of conservative ideologues” whose “definition of liberal is everyone who doesn’t completely agree with them”. These two may indeed be extremes, but the reason we have had such a fractured candidacy on the Republican side is a deep sense of unease that many Republicans had towards all of their offered candidates for various different reasons. Senator McCain’s perceived liberalism on certain core conservative values and his willingness to work with perfidious democrats marked him out for many. As Louise Ford, an active Republican in London put it, “some [in the Republican Party] see him as a turncoat: seems shaky ground for him to become the Republican nominee.”

Quinn defines McCain’s trouble with his base as “an issues thing that has metastasized into something beyond anything that he has actually done.” He groups the “issues” around four main pillars: campaign finance reform, abortion, tax cuts and immigration. On all four, Senator McCain has been against the traditional conservative base, and for Quinn it is through the blending of these issues into the bruising fight between Senator McCain and then nominee-President Bush in the 2000 primaries (where he tarred the leaders of the religious right as Robo-Mitt – chose to endorse the presumptive nominee, apparently ceding to the prevailing winds in the Republican party that decided that a centrist is the safest option if the Republicans want to avoid abject humiliation in the next election.

For this “silent majority” in the party, the prospects of a McCain victory against Hillary are good, and they certainly give him better odds against Obama than any of the others. However, the prospect of an Obama-McCain match-up is worrying for those supporting him for his centrist views. While he may lose some of his far right, who while unlikely to vote against him (no matter what Ann Coulter says) may choose to sit it out uninspired – the question is can he make up this ground in the centre? If he is facing a Senator Obama, it is a tough call – both have done well amongst independents in primaries, whereas against Senator Clinton it seems a safer call (it is almost impossible to gauge the degree to which the “kill the Hilderbeast” factor will play in his favour). But then again, maybe he can appeal to the Hispanic voters who have voted Republican in past (their Catholic values tend to correlate with Republicanism), and who are apparently not choosing Obama in the Democratic primaries.

Beyond this burden of scepticism within his own ranks, Senator McCain has to universally battle the age factor – he may not be far off Ronald Regan in age terms, but he does not really look it and his health issues are widely known. So the “change agenda” that the Democrats are aggressively peddling will have an even sharper focus. And it is here that the vice presidential question becomes so important – rather than the usual choosing a person who appeals to a specific demographic or state, for Senator McCain it has to be a person who could be seen as viable Presidential material (which is what makes the Huckaboob’s plight so pitiful – there ain’t nothing Presidential about a man who doesn’t believe in Darwinism).

The Mack has returned – the question remains as to who has got his back.

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The age of loneliness

Profound changes in technology, work and community are transforming our ultrasocial species into a population of loners.

Our dominant ideology is based on a lie. A series of lies, in fact, but I’ll focus on just one. This is the claim that we are, above all else, self-interested – that we seek to enhance our own wealth and power with little regard for the impact on others.

Some economists use a term to describe this presumed state of being – Homo economicus, or self-maximising man. The concept was formulated, by J S Mill and others, as a thought experiment. Soon it became a modelling tool. Then it became an ideal. Then it evolved into a description of who we really are.

It could not be further from the truth. To study human behaviour is to become aware of how weird we are. Many species will go to great lengths to help and protect their close kin. One or two will show occasional altruism towards unrelated members of their kind. But no species possesses a capacity for general altruism that is anywhere close to our own.

With the possible exception of naked mole-rats, we have the most social minds of all mammals. These minds evolved as an essential means of survival. Slow, weak, armed with rounded teeth and flimsy nails in a world of fangs and claws and horns and tusks, we survived through co-operation, reciprocity and mutual defence, all of which developed to a remarkable degree.

A review paper in the journal Frontiers in Psychology observes that Homo economicus  might be a reasonable description of chimpanzees. “Outsiders . . . would not expect to receive offers of food or solicitude; rather, they would be fiercely attacked . . . food is shared only under harassment; even mothers will not voluntarily offer novel foods to their own infants unless the infants beg for them.” But it is an unreasonable description of human beings.

How many of your friends, colleagues and neighbours behave like chimpanzees? A few, perhaps. If so, are they respected or reviled? Some people do appear to act as if they have no interests but their own – Philip Green and Mike Ashley strike me as possible examples – but their behaviour ­attracts general revulsion. The news is filled with spectacular instances of human viciousness: although psychopaths are rare, their deeds fill the papers. Daily acts of kindness are seldom reported, because they are everywhere.

Every day, I see people helping others with luggage, offering to cede their place in a queue, giving money to the homeless, setting aside time for others, volunteering for causes that offer no material reward. Alongside these quotidian instances are extreme and stunning cases. I think of my Dutch mother-in-law, whose family took in a six-year-old Jewish boy – a stranger – and hid him in their house for two years during the German occupation of the Netherlands. Had he been discovered, they would all have been sent to a concentration camp.

Studies suggest that altruistic tendencies are innate: from the age of 14 months, children try to help each other, attempting to hand over objects another child can’t reach. At the age of two, they start to share valued possessions. By the time they are three, they begin to protest against other people’s violation of moral norms.

Perhaps because we are told by the media, think tanks and politicians that competition and self-interest are the defining norms of human life, we disastrously mischaracterise the way in which other people behave. A survey commissioned by the Common Cause Foundation reported that 78 per cent of respondents believe others to be more selfish than they really are.

I do not wish to suggest that this mythology of selfishness is the sole or even principal cause of the epidemic of loneliness now sweeping the world. But it is likely to contribute to the plague by breeding suspicion and a sense of threat. It also appears to provide a doctrine of justification for those afflicted by isolation, a doctrine that sees individualism as a higher state of existence than community. Perhaps it is hardly surprising that Britain, the European nation in which neoliberalism is most advanced, is, according to government figures, the loneliness capital of Europe.

There are several possible reasons for the atomisation now suffered by the supremely social mammal. Work, which used to bring us together, now disperses us: many people have neither fixed workplaces nor regular colleagues and regular hours. Our leisure time has undergone a similar transformation: cinema replaced by television, sport by computer games, time with friends by time on Facebook.

Social media seems to cut both ways: it brings us together and sets us apart. It helps us to stay in touch, but also cultivates a tendency that surely enhances other people’s sense of isolation: a determination to persuade your followers that you’re having a great time. FOMO – fear of missing out – seems, at least in my mind, to be closely ­associated with loneliness.

Children’s lives in particular have been transformed: since the 1970s, their unaccompanied home range (in other words, the area they roam without adult supervision) has declined in Britain by almost 90 per cent. Not only does this remove them from contact with the natural world, but it limits their contact with other children. When kids played out on the street or in the woods, they quickly formed their own tribes, learning the social skills that would see them through life.

An ageing population, family and community breakdown, the decline of institutions such as churches and trade unions, the switch from public transport to private, inequality, an alienating ethic of consumerism, the loss of common purpose: all these are likely to contribute to one of the most dangerous epidemics of our time.

Yes, I do mean dangerous. The stress response triggered by loneliness raises blood pressure and impairs the immune system. Loneliness enhances the risk of depression, paranoia, addiction, cognitive decline, dem­entia, heart disease, stroke, viral infection, accidents and suicide. It is as potent a cause of early death as smoking 15 cigarettes a day, and can be twice as deadly as obesity.

Perhaps because we are in thrall to the ideology that helps to cause the problem, we turn to the market to try to solve it. Over the past few weeks, the discovery of a new American profession, the people-walker (taking human beings for walks), has caused a small sensation in the media. In Japan there is a fully fledged market for friendship: you can hire friends by the hour with whom to chat and eat and watch TV; or, more disturbingly, to pose for pictures that you can post on social media. They are rented as mourners at funerals and guests at weddings. A recent article describes how a fake friend was used to replace a sister with whom the bride had fallen out. What would the bride’s mother make of it? No problem: she had been rented, too. In September we learned that similar customs have been followed in Britain for some time: an early foray into business for the Home Secretary, Amber Rudd, involved offering to lease her posh friends to underpopulated weddings.



My own experience fits the current pattern: the high incidence of loneliness suffered by people between the ages of 18 and 34. I have sometimes been lonely before and after that period, but it was during those years that I was most afflicted. The worst episode struck when I returned to Britain after six years working in West Papua, Brazil and East Africa. In those parts I sometimes felt like a ghost, drifting through societies to which I did not belong. I was often socially isolated, but I seldom felt lonely, perhaps because the issues I was investigating were so absorbing and the work so frightening that I was swept along by adrenalin and a sense of purpose.

When I came home, however, I fell into a mineshaft. My university friends, with their proper jobs, expensive mortgages and settled, prematurely aged lives, had become incomprehensible to me, and the life I had been leading seemed incomprehensible to everyone. Though feeling like a ghost abroad was in some ways liberating – a psychic decluttering that permitted an intense process of discovery – feeling like a ghost at home was terrifying. I existed, people acknowledged me, greeted me cordially, but I just could not connect. Wherever I went, I heard my own voice bouncing back at me.

Eventually I made new friends. But I still feel scarred by that time, and fearful that such desolation may recur, particularly in old age. These days, my loneliest moments come immediately after I’ve given a talk, when I’m surrounded by people congratulating me or asking questions. I often experience a falling sensation: their voices seem to recede above my head. I think it arises from the nature of the contact: because I can’t speak to anyone for more than a few seconds, it feels like social media brought to life.

The word “sullen” evolved from the Old French solain, which means “lonely”. Loneliness is associated with an enhanced perception of social threat, so one of its paradoxical consequences is a tendency to shut yourself off from strangers. When I was lonely, I felt like lashing out at the society from which I perceived myself excluded, as if the problem lay with other people. To read any comment thread is, I feel, to witness this tendency: you find people who are plainly making efforts to connect, but who do so by insulting and abusing, alienating the rest of the thread with their evident misanthropy. Perhaps some people really are rugged individualists. But others – especially online – appear to use that persona as a rationale for involuntary isolation.

Whatever the reasons might be, it is as if a spell had been cast on us, transforming this ultrasocial species into a population of loners. Like a parasite enhancing the conditions for its own survival, loneliness impedes its own cure by breeding shame and shyness. The work of groups such as Age UK, Mind, Positive Ageing and the Campaign to End Loneliness is life-saving.

When I first wrote about this subject, and the article went viral, several publishers urged me to write a book on the theme. Three years sitting at my desk, studying isolation: what’s the second prize? But I found another way of working on the issue, a way that engages me with others, rather than removing me. With the brilliant musician Ewan McLennan, I have written a concept album (I wrote the first draft of the lyrics; he refined them and wrote the music). Our aim is to use it to help break the spell, with performances of both music and the spoken word designed to bring people together –which, we hope, will end with a party at the nearest pub.

By itself, our work can make only a tiny contribution to addressing the epidemic. But I hope that, both by helping people to acknowledge it and by using the power of music to create common sentiment, we can at least begin to identify the barriers that separate us from others, and to remember that we are not the selfish, ruthless beings we are told we are.

“Breaking the Spell of Loneliness” by Ewan McLennan and George Monbiot is out now. For a full list of forthcoming gigs visit:

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood