Tear gas used against Hong Kong protestors was produced by a UK arms company. Photo: Getty
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From Hong Kong to Israel: why arms export controls are broken

When the UK sells weapons it not only facilitates the attacks they are used in, it also signals an approval for the governments that are carrying them out.

The last few months have shown that the UK's arms export controls system is broken. Nowhere has this been clearer than in the cases of Hong Kong and Israel. The situations may be very different, but the UK's weak and complacent position has been entirely consistent.

Only last week it was revealed that tear gas produced by UK arms company Chemring was being used against pro-democracy protesters in Hong Kong.

In light of the revelations Chemring said it will review its policy, but the government hasn't even done that.

On the contrary, the Foreign Secretary, Philip Hammond, has ruled out even reviewing any of the current export licences to Hong Kong. He went further than usual, explicitly making the facetious argument that if Hong Kong didn't use UK tear gas it would simply get it from somewhere else. He told the BBC “CS gas is available from large numbers of sources around the world. To be frank, I think that is a rather immaterial point. They could buy CS gas from the US.”

This doesn't just imply a worrying lack of understanding about his own role in overseeing the regulation of the arms trade, it also points to the deliberate and explicit weakening of export controls.

A similar thing happened in August when a report from the Department of Business, Innovation and Skills (BIS)  found that there were up to 12 active licences for UK arms that could have been used in the recent bombardment of Gaza. The report, which was signed-off by Vince Cable, concluded that the licences would be suspended, but only in the event of any "resumption of significant hostilities".

The temporary ceasefire fell apart only eight days later and gave way to another week of bloodshed, and yet the licences remained in place. The conflict killed over 2000 people, with the UK doing nothing meaningful to stop it. That is why we at Campaign Against Arms Trade have instructed our law firm, Leigh Day, to begin legal action against BIS to challenge its decision.

What these examples have in common is that they are representative of an arms control policy that focuses on maximising sales rather than limiting them.

The role that ministers like Cable and Hammond play in promoting arms deals isn't limited to signing them off. Both of their departments play an active role in encouraging them. In less than 12 months the government will be playing host to the bi-annual DSEI arms fair in East London. This is one of the biggest arms fairs in the world and will bring hundreds of major arms companies together with some of the worst dictators. How can the UK credibly claim to be furthering human rights and democracy when it is actively courting tyrants?

On paper the UK's licensing criteria is very clear. It says that licences should be revoked if there is ever a "clear risk" that equipment "might" be used in violation of international humanitarian law or internal repression. This must be assessed at the time the licensing decision is made. By any reasonable interpretation this should prohibit all future arms sales to countries like Israel or Hong Kong.

When the UK sells weapons it not only facilitates the attacks they are used in, it also signals an approval for the governments that are carrying them out. Changing this won't just require the cancellation of a few licences, it will need a complete overhaul of government priorities and an end to the hypocrisy that is at the heart of foreign policy.

Andrew Smith is a spokesperson for Campaign Against Arms Trade and tweets at @wwwcaatorguk

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The decline of the north's sporting powerhouse

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Now, things are different.

On a drive between Sheffield and Barnsley, I spotted a striking painting of the Kes poster. Billy Casper’s two-fingered salute covered the wall of a once-popular pub that is now boarded up.

It is almost 50 years since the late Barry Hines wrote A Kestrel for a Knave, the novel that inspired Ken Loach’s 1969 film, and it seems that the defiant, us-against-the-world, stick-it-to-the-man Yorkshireness he commemorated still resonates here. Almost two-thirds of the people of south Yorkshire voted to leave the EU, flicking two fingers up at what they saw as a London-based establishment, detached from life beyond the capital.

But whatever happened to Billy the unlikely lad, and the myriad other northern characters who were once the stars of stage and screen? Like the pitheads that dominated Casper’s tightly knit neighbourhood, they have disappeared from the landscape. The rot set in during the 1980s, when industries were destroyed and communities collapsed, a point eloquently made in Melvyn Bragg’s excellent radio series The Matter of the North.

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Yet today, we rarely get to hear the voices of Barnsley, Sheffield, Doncaster and Rotherham. And the Yorkshire sporting powerhouse is no more – at least, not as we once knew it.

This should be a matter of national concern. The White Rose county is, after all, the home of the world’s oldest registered football club – Sheffield FC, formed in 1857 – and the first English team to win three successive League titles, Huddersfield Town, in the mid-1920s. Hull City are now Yorkshire’s lone representative in the Premier League.

Howard Wilkinson, the manager of Leeds United when they were crowned champions in 1992, the season before the Premier League was founded, lamented the passing of a less money-obsessed era. “My dad worked at Orgreave,” he said, “the scene of Mrs Thatcher’s greatest hour, bless her. You paid for putting an axe through what is a very strong culture of community and joint responsibility.”

The best-known scene in Loach’s film shows a football match in which Mr Sugden, the PE teacher, played by Brian Glover, comically assumes the role of Bobby Charlton. It was played out on the muddy school fields of Barnsley’s run-down Athersley estate. On a visit to his alma mater a few years ago, David Bradley, who played the scrawny 15-year-old Billy, showed me the goalposts that he had swung from as a reluctant goalkeeper. “You can still see the dint in the crossbar,” he said. When I spoke to him recently, Bradley enthused about his lifelong support for Barnsley FC. “But I’ve not been to the ground over the last season and a half,” he said. “I can’t afford it.”

Bradley is not alone. Many long-standing fans have been priced out. Barnsley is only a Championship side, but for their home encounter with Newcastle last October, their fans had to pay £30 for a ticket.

The English game is rooted in the northern, working-class communities that have borne the brunt of austerity over the past six years. The top leagues – like the EU – are perceived to be out of touch and skewed in favour of the moneyed elites.

Bradley, an ardent Remainer, despaired after the Brexit vote. “They did not know what they were doing. But I can understand why. There’s still a lot of neglect, a lot of deprivation in parts of Barnsley. They feel left behind because they have been left behind.”

It is true that there has been a feel-good factor in Yorkshire following the Rio Olympics; if the county were a country, it would have finished 17th in the international medals table. Yet while millions have been invested in “podium-level athletes”, in the team games that are most relevant to the lives of most Yorkshire folk – football, cricket and rugby league – there is a clear division between sport’s elites and its grass roots. While lucrative TV deals have enriched ruling bodies and top clubs, there has been a large decrease in the number of adults playing any sport in the four years since London staged the Games.

According to figures from Sport England, there are now 67,000 fewer people in Yorkshire involved in sport than there were in 2012. In Doncaster, to take a typical post-industrial White Rose town, there has been a 13 per cent drop in participation – compared with a 0.4 per cent decline nationally.

Attendances at rugby league, the region’s “national sport”, are falling. But cricket, in theory, is thriving, with Yorkshire winning the County Championship in 2014 and 2015. Yet Joe Root, the batsman and poster boy for this renaissance, plays far more games for his country than for his county and was rested from Yorkshire’s 2016 title decider against Middlesex.

“Root’s almost not a Yorkshire player nowadays,” said Stuart Rayner, whose book The War of the White Roses chronicles the club’s fortunes between 1968 and 1986. As a fan back then, I frequently watched Geoffrey Boycott and other local stars at Headingley. My favourite was the England bowler Chris Old, a gritty, defiant, unsung anti-hero in the Billy Casper mould.

When Old made his debut, 13 of the 17-strong Yorkshire squad were registered as working-class professionals. Half a century later, three of the five Yorkshiremen selec­ted for the last Ashes series – Root, Jonny Bairstow and Gary Ballance – were privately educated. “The game of cricket now is played in public schools,” Old told me. “Top players are getting huge amounts of money, but the grass-roots game doesn’t seem to have benefited in any way.”

“In ten years’ time you won’t get a Joe Root,” Rayner said. “If you haven’t seen these top Yorkshire cricketers playing in your backyard and you haven’t got Sky, it will be difficult to get the whole cricket bug. So where is the next generation of Roots going to come from?” Or the next generation of Jessica Ennis-Hills? Three years ago, the Sheffield stadium where she trained and first discovered athletics was closed after cuts to local services.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era