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Jimmy Carter: “William Hague is a hero of mine”

Our man in Washington John Bew has coffee with the former US president – and they talk Thatcher, Iran’s Islamic Revolution and the persecution of women.

James the evangelist: Jimmy Carter at home in Plains, Georgia

Jimmy Carter – Nobel peace laureate 2002, treaty-maker, international development expert, destroyer of diseases and bestselling author – has set his mind on transforming women’s rights. I meet the former president in the ninth-floor presidential suite at the Mandarin Oriental in Washington, DC. Appositely, the location is slightly away from the usual bustle of political hot spots – Capitol Hill, K Street or the historic downtown hotels such as the Mayflower or Hay-Adams. As he greets me, his slender, 89-year-old frame springing up from the sofa where he was resting, you cannot help but marvel at his energy and drive.

Carter’s latest book, A Call to Action: Women, Religion, Violence and Power (Simon & Schuster, £18.99), is brimming with missionary zeal and a sense of historical purpose of a kind that we Brits often regard with some cynicism. It begins by recalling the experience of segregation in the Deep South, an injustice that seems to have shaped his world-view more than anything else. It evokes the spirit of Martin Luther King and even the precedent of the 19th-century abolition of the slave trade. In Carter’s mind, each battle he has fought is more important than the last.

Aside from his time at the White House from 1977 to 1981, Carter has been a Baptist Sunday school teacher for more than 60 years, following in the footsteps of his father. Jesus, he writes in A Call to Action, never denigrated women in the way that Christian societies have done since. True Islam, too, has been perverted by arcane cultural practices in the Middle East and Africa, such as female genital mutilation, which have no grounding in the Quran. Carter tells me about the letter he recently wrote to Pope Francis concerning the role of women in the Catholic Church, and recounts the story of his own split from the Southern Baptist Convention in the early 2000s over its refusal to ordain female ministers.

As we talk, I notice much of his ire is turned inwards on the United States, where, he argues, damaging levels of sexism are prevalent throughout society – in politics, professional life, the military and even on university campuses. Not just discrimination, but widespread sexual aggression and abuse, go unnoticed or are accepted tacitly.

Would the election of a female president make a difference?

“I don’t know,” he says, without mentioning the Democratic front-runner, Hill­ary Clinton, to whom he has offered only lukewarm support in the past. In the west, successful female politicians are reluctant to grapple with women’s issues, he explains, for fear that they might upset a system geared towards male dominance.

By contrast, in post-revolutionary states such as Maoist China or Sandinista Nicaragua, women were given more opportunity to excel in political life. The United States ranks 60th in the world, he notes, for female participation in politics.

What did he think of Margaret Thatcher? “I admired her as a respectful, powerful and forceful woman, although she was much more conservative on social issues [than I was],” he says. After a pause, he jokingly adds: “She also knew more about my country than I did.”

Carter’s greatest impact has been in the developing world. Among the many achievements of his Carter Centre, founded in 1982, one stands out above all. This has been the almost complete eradication of guinea-worm disease, which once affected four million people in Africa. For this reason, he is widely regarded as one of the most successful former presidents. This accolade sounds flattering but isn’t always intended to be. Carter has grumbled that the present incumbent of the White House does not bother to consult him.

In person, Carter is charming, warm and impossible not to like. In Britain we would call him a “national treasure” – a sort of Tony Benn figure, with whom you don’t have to agree in order to respect his integrity. But as one of only three one-term presidents since 1945, Carter exudes the sense of having unfinished business to attend to. He has written 28 books, most of them in a similar evangelical, campaigning vein.

What drew him to the issue of women’s rights, and why now?

He and his wife, Rosalynn (they have been married for nearly 70 years), have visited 145 countries as part of the work of the Carter Centre, which has active projects in half of them. Most of the centre’s programmes, from disease prevention to birth control, are channelled through the women in the communities where it works – teachers, nurses, mothers and wives. It is through working with these women that Carter began to understand the scale of the problems: the selective abortion of female foetuses; mass infanticide of newborn girls (“gendercide” is the expression that Carter uses); female genital mutilation; sexual violence and trafficking. He believes that the slave trade of women is bigger now than it was in the 19th century.

Is Carter aware of the recent work by William Hague and the British Foreign Office, together with Angelina Jolie, in campaigning against sexual violence in conflict zones? “Absolutely,” he says, and both he and his aide nod vigorously when I mention the forthcoming summit on the subject in London in June. Hague, Carter says in his Georgian drawl, “is an active hero of mine; he and Miss Jolie are doing a successful and admirable job”.

Is this the type of “soft-power” diplomacy and “moral leadership” that can help Britain carve out a new international niche for itself? The idea appeals to Carter, not least because it is the type of thing that the Carter Centre does.

Though he is unwilling to be drawn into a discussion of Tony Blair and his foreign policy, Carter has condemned the former Labour prime minister for having been too close to George W Bush, whom he holds responsible for excessive “militarism” in US foreign policy. “It’s a shameful and pitiful state of affairs,” he said in 2006, “and I hold your British prime minister to be substantially responsible for being so compliant and subservient.”

Carter’s eyes brighten when we turn to contemporary affairs and his tongue grows sharper. He expresses disappointment that the lofty language of Barack Obama’s 2009 Cairo speech has not been matched by action. Carter has denounced the expansion of drone warfare, the activities of the National Security Agency and the failure to close Guantanamo Bay. He smiles gently but doesn’t bite on the bait when I suggest that it might have been premature to award the Nobel Peace Prize to Obama in 2009.

While high unemployment and inflation played a part, it was Carter’s perceived inadequacies in foreign affairs that led to his defeat by Ronald Reagan in 1980 after one term in office. A quick succession of events in 1978-79, including the Iranian Islamic Revolution and hostage crisis and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, created the impression that his was a presidency at the mercy of events.

Many in Washington have compared Russia’s annexation of Crimea to the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979 but Carter is not convinced. Crimea is a “special case”, he says, because of its history and influence on the Russian psyche. Nonetheless, he firmly believes that Russian expansionism should stop there, and that the United States and its allies should present a united front to prevent further infringements of Ukrainian sovereignty by Moscow.

At this point, Carter begins to recite the various aspects of his own response to the Soviets in order to illustrate his toughness. These included withdrawing American athletes from the 1980 Moscow Olympics, a trade embargo and the arming of the Afghan mujahedin. He explicitly reminds me of the way in which the CIA did this with Russian-made weapons from other states, in order to disguise the US role. You can almost hear the voice of Carter’s national security adviser, Zbigniew Brzezinski, who wanted “to make the Soviets bleed for as much and as long as is possible”. Given the subsequent history of Afghanistan, and the origins of al-Qaeda, I wonder, does he have any regrets? “No, no regrets at all.”

Suddenly, discussing his own record in office, this archetypal dove sounds defiantly hawkish. One wonders what type of Jimmy Carter the world would have known today had he won a second term. The differences between the “realpolitik” of the Nixon-Kissinger years and the short-lived policy of the Carter-Brzezinski era can be overstated.

When Carter held the reins himself, his humanitarianism often took a back seat. In December 1977, at a dinner during a state visit to Tehran, he declared: “Iran, because of the great leadership of the shah, is an island of stability in one of the more troubled areas of the world.” Incredibly, he congratulated Mohammad Reza Shah for “the respect and the admiration and love which your people give to you”.

As the regime began to crumble over the course of the following year, Brzezinski reassured the shah that the United States would back him “to the hilt”, though this was something on which, ultimately, Carter was not prepared to follow through.

The evening before our meeting, Iran nominated Hamid Aboutalebi, who was allegedly among the hostage-takers in the 1979 storming of the US embassy in Tehran, as its new ambassador to the United Nations. The move was widely interpreted as a snub to the Americans. Given the damage that the hostage crisis did to the Carter presidency, I ask if he has any thoughts about the appointment. He has just heard the news but swiftly reverts to the philosophical, conciliatory Carter we know best. “No objections at all,” he says. “Iran is a sovereign state and many of the hostage-takers were college kids at the time.”

On Syria, he is a little more forthcoming. Intriguingly, he describes how he has met Bashar al-Assad “six or seven times”, including when Assad was a university student in London.

What was his impression of him?

He pauses. Assad is a “proud person” and one of the “most obdurate individuals I have ever met”. This is one of the reasons why Carter thinks it was a mistake for the US to demand that the Syrian leader resign as the civil war in his country began. To Carter, to set this condition was unrealistic, because it underestimated the strength and depth of Assad’s support and misunderstood the whole logic of the regime. But was Carter’s alternative faith in the Kofi Annan peace plan – allowing Assad to stay on but with elections and UN human rights monitors – any more realistic?

In retrospect, Carter, for all his perceived failures, did score some successes abroad, such as the Camp David Accords of 1978, which secured peace between Egypt and Israel, and in bringing the question of human rights to the forefront of the cold war. However, his record at home has been criticised by some social democrats in the US who believed he abandoned the “affirmative government” of the Roosevelt-Truman-Kennedy tradition in favour of a type of small-government liberalism.

The recently published letters of Arthur Schlesinger, the distinguished historian who worked as a speechwriter for JFK, contain a message to Carter’s special assistant Ray Jenkins in 1982, in which Schlesinger complains: “Human rights and Camp David apart, the Carter years were wasted years.”

Carter cannot be accused of wasting any time since then.

John Bew is a historian and New Statesman contributing writer

John Bew is a New Statesman contributing writer. His most recent book, Realpolitik: A History, is published by Oxford University Press.

This article first appeared in the 09 April 2014 issue of the New Statesman, Anxiety nation

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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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