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In this week’s magazine | Isis can be beaten

A first look at this week’s magazine.

“The best of times, the worst of times”

A guest column by US ambassador Matthew Barzun

John Simpson in Baghdad: Islamic State can be beaten

Plus

The Great Ebola Scare: why we must stem the panic in Europe

George Eaton: Labour might not be at war with itself, but Ed Miliband desperately needs to inspire his supporters

Howard Jacobson: What makes us human?

Helen Lewis: internet trolls thrive on fiction, not facts

Felix Martin on the coming age of mediocrity in

Mariana Mazzucato wins the inaugural NS Speri prize for political economy

Erica Wagner meets Ken Burns, the US pioneer of long-form television

The Guest Column: Matthew Barzun

While acknowledging the current horrors of ebola and Islamic State, the US ambassador to the UK, Matthew Barzun, wonders why we are so determined to dwell on the negative in our global narrative. It may be the worst of times in some senses, he argues, but it is the best of times in many other ways; child mortality, extreme poverty, damage to the ozone layer and the HIV infection rate have all been reduced in recent years:

So why are we intent on fixing our lens on the chaotic? And why do we insist on trying to weave a grand narrative out of mostly unrelated things? Do we believe there’s a common unravelling force at work behind the ebola tragedy, Russia’s incursion into Ukraine and the independence campaign in Scotland? My guess is that it might have more to do with how we feel than how things are.

Barzun argues that although at such moments we may feel drawn to strong leaders with a “grand master plan”, nimbleness and flexibility are the qualities needed to deal with global threats:

           What is the best way to lead and govern in times of remarkable change?

Here’s what Teddy Roosevelt said at the dawn of the progressive era: “Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.” And one of America’s great unsung heroes, John “Gil” Winant, ambassador to Britain during the Second World War, explained in 1946 his approach to leadership in chaotic times as, “Doing the day’s work day by day, doing a little, adding a little, broadening our bases wanting not only for ourselves but for others also, a fairer chance for all people everywhere . . .”

[. . . ]

It is impossible to plan for every eventuality. And it is hardly fair to accuse the US of not having a highly detailed blueprint but simultaneously warn us that we should be taking into account our allies’ opinions and concerns. We take our responsibilities seriously but cannot be responsible for everything that happens. Other international actors make choices for good and for ill. So even the most far-sighted diplomacy must sometimes be reactive.

 

Cover story: John Simpson on why Isis can be beaten

The BBC’s world affairs editor, John Simpson, files a despatch from Baghdad, where there are clear signs that Islamic State’s grip is weakening as western recruits begin to lose their resolve. Contrary to the defeatist tone of western politicians and media commentators, Simpson argues, Isis can be beaten:

“Seemingly unstoppable,” as someone on the BBC’s Today programme described the Islamist group the other day. “The Isil steamroller,” an American news anchor echoed. “There’s nothing to hold them back,” agreed an exhausted Kurd who had just escaped the street fighting in Kobane, on the border between Syria and Turkey, and was interviewed by the massed ranks of the world’s press.

How can you blame them, when our political leaders are queuing up to tell people how effective the Islamic State fighters are, and how useless are the efforts of those who are fighting them?

More than a week ago, Turkey’s president, Recep Tayyip Erdogan, was forecasting the imminent fall of Kobane and warning that air strikes had failed. The Eeyorish US secretary of state scored a particularly encouraging headline: “John Kerry suggests Iran could lead fight against Isil if ‘US fails miserably’ ”. That’s the stuff to give the troops. And here is our own Foreign Secretary, in his best Henry-V-before-Harfleur manner: “We can’t save Kobane from falling to Islamic State, says Philip Hammond”.

Simpson believes the emphasis on Kobane is unhelpful and has skewed the picture. Islamic State is indeed in control of that small town on the border between Syria and Turkey, but it is a “different story” in Baghdad, where, he points out, the Iraqi national army successfully repelled IS fighters only three weeks ago:

Kobane provides the world with the impression that IS is advancing everywhere, successfully dealing out the savagery that makes it so terrifying. The only boots on the ground belong to Kurdish fighters, who have not always been particularly effective.
The Turkish army could sort out IS in no time flat, but the Turks have a phobia about helping any form of Kurdish resistance, in case it spreads into Turkey itself.

Simpson senses that the IS rank and file are not as dedicated as they once were. The jihadis are fighting on several fronts in two countries and reports suggest that demoralised western recruits are increasingly repulsed by the atrocities they have witnessed:

A new IS training video shows recruits being beaten and bullied and forced to carry out exercises to the accompaniment of live rounds. This works with professional soldiers, but with volunteers, as most of IS’s fighters are, it can be counterproductive.

The hundreds of enthusiasts from western Europe and the US who have joined IS have often (Jihadi John aside) proved rather feeble and lacking in the necessary bloodlust. They are usually restricted to the status of what US soldiers call REMFs (short for “rear-echelon motherf***ers”), doing the cooking and the laundry.

 

Special report: the great ebola scare

Michael Brooks, the New Statesman’s science correspondent, takes a dispassionate look at the facts of the ebola outbreak and the real threat posed by the virus in Europe. Western fears about mass contagion are largely unfounded, he argues, and the widespread anxiety must be stemmed in order to avoid a “short-sighted and short-lived” response:

Amid the rising panic, a few calm voices are struggling to be heard. Sarah Wollaston, who chairs the House of Commons health select committee, has said that she expects the UK to get five cases in total, at the rate of roughly one a month. The NHS, she says, is perfectly ready and able to cope. Seth Berkley, chief executive of the Global Alliance for Vaccines and Immunisation, concurs: ebola is not a disease you have to fear when living in a wealthy country. “The likelihood of this causing a major epidemic in Europe or the US is very, very low,” he says.

Brooks suggests that the “panicked reaction” to ebola is a symptom of the public mood and the current “economic and political gloom”.

In Liberia, however, the situation remains dire, as Clair MacDougall reports in a letter from the capital, Monrovia. To make matters worse, health workers on the front line are on the verge of striking:

With close to 500 infected people in treatment centres, and almost three times as many yet to access care, the strike threatened to derail efforts to contain the crisis in Monrovia, now the centre of the ebola outbreak in West Africa. Given the huge risks and sacrifices endured by local medical staff, it is not hard to understand their anger.

At least 200 health workers have been infected with ebola and 90 have died, according to the latest government figures. Yet pay is modest.

 

George Eaton: the politics column

In this week’s Politics Column, George Eaton argues that even though the Labour Party is not engaged in outright civil war, it is mired in a despondency that is just as self-destructive:

This is not a party at war. There has been no repeat of what Labour’s policy review head, Jon Cruddas, described to me as “the gang warfare” that disfigured the Blair and Brown years. By historic standards, the party that produced the MacDonald split of 1931, the struggle between the Bevanites and the Gaitskellites and the SDP schism of 1981 remains united. At the first meeting of the Parliamentary Labour Party following the conference season and the near-death experience of the Heywood and Middleton by-election, there were just two dissenting voices: the Warrington North MP, Helen Jones, and the former welfare minister Frank Field. “It was hard to avoid the undercurrent of anxiety but the group dynamic inevitably led to the PLP rallying around,” a shadow cabinet minister observes. But while not locked in combat, Labour is desperately in need of inspiration.

 

Howard Jacobson: What makes us human?

The novelist Howard Jacobson is the latest contributor to our “What Makes Us Human?” series, published in partnership with BBC Radio 2’s Jeremy Vine show.

Jacobson, whose most recent novel, J, was shortlisted for yesterday’s Man Booker Prize, suggests that laughter is the route to “conscious humanity”:

The Navajo celebrate a baby’s first laugh as a rite of passage, a moment in which the baby laughs himself, as it were, out of inchoate babydom and into conscious humanity. It’s a wonderful concept and grants a primacy to laughter that we, who probably laugh too automatically and certainly far too much, would do well to think about. If it’s laughter that makes us human, or at least kick-starts the process of our becoming human, what does that say about what being human is?

[. . .]

I choose to believe that laughter is the portal to creativity, not necessarily in the sense of making things but in the sense of connecting to a world outside the self, in the first instance noticing that there is a world that isn’t you.

[. . .]

What makes us human is the joy we take in looking out; but even more, what makes us human is the impulse to go on wondering where that joy comes from and accepting that we will never know.

 

Mariana Mazzucato wins the inaugural NS Speri prize for political economy

Mariana Mazzucato, RM Phillips Professor in the Economics of Innovation at the Science Policy Research Unit (SPRU) of the University of Sussex, has been awarded the first New Statesman/Speri Prize for Political Economy for her work on smart growth and the entrepreneurial state.

Prof Mazzucato said: “Ignoring the key role of the state – or the taxpayer – in wealth creation has, in my view, been a leading cause of inequality, allowing some (hyped-up) actors to reap a rate of return way beyond their actual contribution.”

Mazzucato will explore this “dysfunctional dynamic” further in the inaugural New Statesman/Speri lecture on Thursday 13 November (6.30pm). For details visit: www.newstatesman.com/events

 

Plus

 

Sophie McBain meets the 84-year-old psychologist Walter Mischel, inventor of the marshmallow test

Melissa Benn reviews two books on the
politics of primary education

Our TV critic, Rachel Cooke: not even a priapic
Pepys can save ITV’s Great Fire

Peter Wilby: why TV debates are the best
way to decide the next election

Angels and whores: Michael Prodger on the
unsettling work of the artist Paula Rego

Jessica Thatcher on plans to help cities
such as Nairobi beat gridlock using ski lifts

Leo Johnson rallies his north London neighbours
for a spot of civic-minded winemaking

Ian Steadman on the Mars One project
and the dangers facing the first colonists

Kevin Maguire’s Commons Confidential: Paul O’Grady,
David Cameron, and a stolen kiss at the Pride of Britain Awards

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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