Cameron's political isolation on Syria grows

Labour, the Lib Dems, two-thirds of Tory MPs and, now, Boris Johnson are all opposed to arming the rebels. This is an argument Cameron cannot win.

William Hague made it clear on the Today programme this morning that he and David Cameron are determined not to rule out the option of arming the Syrian rebels. He challenged those who warn that the UK would have no way of preventing Sunni jihadists from seizing or buying the weapons by pointing out that there was "no evidence" that the non-lethal equipment supplied by the west had "fallen into the wrong hands" and cautioned against "falling into the trap of thinking that everybody on every side is an extremist". He also insisted that while the opposition had suffered "important setbacks", "this does not mean this conflict is over". 

"The debate about arms is about how to make sure a democratic, legitimate opposition is not exterminated," he said. The clear suggestion was that supplying the rebels with weapons could still tilt the balance in their favour, both against the extremists on the opposition side and against the Assad regime. 

But such is David Cameron's political isolation that it is increasingly imposible to see how the UK could take this step. Labour, the Liberal Democrats and around two-thirds of Tory MPs are all opposed to arming the rebels, and Boris Johnson uses his Telegraph column today to join them. He writes: "This is not the moment to send more arms. This is the moment for a total ceasefire, an end to the madness. It is time for the US, Russia, the EU, Turkey, Iran, Saudi and all the players to convene an intergovernmental conference to try to halt the carnage."

Last night on Twitter, Tory MPs Mark Reckless and Sarah Wollaston suggested that they knew of no Conservative backbenchers in favour of arming the rebels. After the adventurism of the neoconservatives, the Tories' realist tendency is reasserting itself. If Cameron is unable to even win this argument within his own party, it is hard to see him persuading anyone else of the case for action. 

David Cameron arrives to attend the Enniskillen G8 summit in Belfast. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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What happened when a couple accidentally recorded two hours of their life

The cassette tape threw Dan and Fiona into a terrible panic.

If the Transformers series of movies (Transformers; Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen; Transformers: Dark of the Moon; Transformers: Age of Extinction; and Transformers: the Last Knight) teach us anything, it is that you think your life is going along just fine but in a moment, with a single mistake or incident, it can be derailed and you never know from what direction the threat will come. Shia LaBeouf, for example, thinks everything is completely OK in his world – then he discovers his car is a shape-shifting alien.

I once knew a couple called Dan and Fiona who, on an evening in the early 1980s, accidentally recorded two hours of their life. Fiona was an English teacher (in fact we’d met at teacher-training college) and she wished to make a recording of a play that was being broadcast on Radio 4 about an anorexic teenager living on a council estate in Belfast. A lot of the dramas at that time were about anorexic teenagers living on council estates in Belfast, or something very similar – sometimes they had cancer.

Fiona planned to get her class to listen to the play and then they would have a discussion about its themes. In that pre-internet age when there was no iPlayer, the only practical way to hear something after the time it had been transmitted was to record the programme onto a cassette tape.

So Fiona got out their boom box (a portable Sony stereo player), loaded in a C120 tape, switched on the radio part of the machine, tuned it to Radio 4, pushed the record button when the play began, and fastidiously turned the tape over after 60 minutes.

But instead of pushing the button that would have taped the play, she had actually pushed the button that activated the built-in microphone, and the machine captured, not the radio drama, but the sound of 120 minutes of her and Dan’s home life, which consisted solely of: “Want a cup of tea?” “No thanks.” And a muffled fart while she was out of the room. That was all. That was it.

The two of them had, until that moment, thought their life together was perfectly happy, but the tape proved them conclusively wrong. No couple who spent their evenings in such torpidity could possibly be happy. Theirs was clearly a life of grinding tedium.

The evidence of the cassette tape threw Dan and Fiona into a terrible panic: the idea of spending any more of their evenings in such bored silence was intolerable. They feared they might have to split up. Except they didn’t want to.

But what could they do to make their lives more exciting? Should they begin conducting sordid affairs in sleazy nightclubs? Maybe they could take up arcane hobbies such as musketry, baking terrible cakes and entering them in competitions, or building models of Victorian prisons out of balsa wood? Might they become active in some kind of extremist politics?

All that sounded like a tremendous amount of effort. In the end they got themselves a cat and talked about that instead. 

This article first appeared in the 20 July 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The new world disorder