British troops in Iraq. Photo: Getty
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No matter how "punchy", the Chilcot report remains an afterthought

The findings of the long-awaited Chilcot inquiry are reportedly sending shockwaves through Whitehall. When will the Prime Minister start taking it seriously?

In an exclusive report, the Times reveals that draft reports of the Chilcot inquiry "have sent shockwaves through Whitehall".

According to the report, extracts from the long-awaited official inquiry into the Iraq war have spooked key figures who were involved, because it is far more critical and damning than expected. An insider is quoted saying, "it's much more punchy than people thought it was going to be".

The piece also quotes a government whip, Lord Wallace of Saltaire, saying that the consultation of lawyers could postpone the already severely delayed publication of the report until after the general election in May:  “We are all anxious that if it is not published by the end of February it would be inappropriate to publish it during the campaign period.”

The inquiry was announced by Gordon Brown in June 2009, and commenced in November that year. It concluded in February 2011, so we have now been waiting over three and a half years for it to release its findings. David Cameron said in May that he hoped the Chilcot inquiry would be unveiled by the end of this year, but this now looks highly unlikely. He acknowledged this last week, claiming that he did not know when it would come out, and insisting: “It is important in our system these sort of reports are not controlled or timed by the government.”

Although the PM has emphasised the importance of hearing the inquiry's findings, it is clear that the report remains an afterthought behind the scenes. And not just because of the repeated delays and prevarication over when we can expect it to be published.

I hear from a well-placed MP that it was only very shortly before a Westminster Hall debate on the Chilcot inquiry was called in October this year that the Cabinet Office minister for civil society, Rob Wilson MP, discovered that the Chilcot inquiry was even part of his brief. This low priority suggests No 10 not only sees the report as being very far off on the political horizon, but also reveals the lack of significance it lends the inquiry.

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.

Tracey Thorn. CRedit: Getty
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“Not technically beautiful, she has an engaging laugh”: 35 years of being described by men

For women in music, being described most of the time by men is just par for the course.

I am sure you all saw the Twitter challenge that took off the other day – a request to women to “describe yourself like a male author would”, started by the writer Whitney Reynolds. There were thousands of hilarious replies, with women imagining how a bad male author would describe them. I thought about posting an example, but then realised, I didn’t have to imagine this. I’ve been being described by male journalists for more than 35 years.

Katy Waldman in the New Yorker wrote about the challenge, and how it highlighted clichés in men’s writing: “…prose that takes conspicuous notice of a female character’s physical imperfections. This is done with an aura of self-satisfaction, as if the protagonist deserves credit simply for bestowing his descriptive prowess upon a person of less than conventional loveliness.”

And oh boy, that hit home. Yes, I thought, that is precisely how I’ve been described, too many times to recall, so many times that I’ve actually sort of stopped noticing. The following aren’t direct quotes, but near enough.

“Not conventionally pretty, Thorn nevertheless somehow manages to be curiously attractive.” “Her face may not be technically beautiful but she has an engaging laugh.” “Her intelligence shines through the quirky features.” Often what’s irritating isn’t the hint of an insult, but just being wide of the mark. “She isn’t wearing any make-up” (oh my god, of course she is). “She’s wearing some kind of shapeless shift” (it’s Comme des Garçons FFS).

I’m not trying to arouse sympathy. I’m much thicker-skinned than you may imagine, hence surviving in this business for so long. But the point is, for women in music, being described most of the time by men is just par for the course.

A few weeks ago, when I was in Brussels and Paris doing interviews, I was taken aback all over again by the absence of female journalists interviewing me about my album – an album that is being described everywhere as “nine feminist bangers”. As the 14th man walked through the door, my heart slightly sank. I feel like a bore banging on about this sometimes, but it astonishes me that certain aspects of this business remain so male-dominated.

Even the journalists sometimes have the good grace to notice the anomaly. One youngish man, (though not that young) told me I was only the third woman he had ever interviewed, which took my breath away. I look at my playlists of favourite tracks over the last year or so, and they are utterly dominated by SZA, Angel Olsen, Lorde, St Vincent, Mabel, Shura, Warpaint, Savages, Solange, Kate Tempest, Tove Lo, Susanne Sundfør, Janelle Monáe, Jessie Ware and Haim, so there certainly isn’t any shortage of great women. I’ve been asked to speak at a music event, and when I was sent the possible line-up I couldn’t help noticing that over three days there were 56 men and seven women speaking. The final bill might be an improvement on that, but still. Any number of music festivals still operate with this kind of mad imbalance.

Is it down to the organisers not asking? Or, in the case of this kind of discussion event, women often feeling they don’t “know” enough? It’s a vicious circle, the way that men and their music can be so intimidating. The more you’re always in the minority, the more you feel like you don’t belong. Record shops seemed that way to me when I was a teen, places where guys hung out and looked at you like you didn’t know your Pink Floyd from your Pink Flag.

I also have to watch songs of mine being described by male writers, and sometimes misinterpreted. I’ve got one called “Guitar” on my new record. There’s a boy in the lyrics, but he’s incidental – it’s a love song to my first Les Paul copy. That fact has sailed over the heads of a couple of male reviewers who’ve seen it as a song all about a boy.

That’s the trouble, isn’t it? You miss things when you leave women out, or view female characters through the prism of their attractiveness, or when you take for granted that you’re at the centre of every story, every lyric. I bet you think this piece is about you. 

Tracey Thorn is a musician and writer, best known as one half of Everything but the Girl. She writes the fortnightly “Off the Record” column for the New Statesman. Her latest book is Naked at the Albert Hall.

This article first appeared in the 18 April 2018 issue of the New Statesman, Enoch Powell’s revenge