29 Sept 2015

Poem: The Lady and the Dragon

The interlude has been long. A week ago, I wrote on the Ark; there I discussed the direction of the plot, matters of writing, and other such literary deliberations. I also presented a new chapter, the last to be made public before the date of publication.

Alas, I have done little in the way of the Ark hence. The cause may be attributed to a case of the flu—an unpleasant virus it is, easily capable of sapping energy from even the most lively of souls.

But another cause lies with the topic of this particular post. I have completed an epic poem entitled the Lady and the Dragon; and I do not speak of it as an ‘epic’ lightly. It is over two thousand words and nearly five hundred stanzas in length; it is, to put it simply, pretty damn big.

Why, you ask? To answer that particular question, one need look at what this poem actually is: a story. A fairytale, even. It describes the journey of the Lady Stella, and her faithful companion, Orem the Dragon. It is in many ways the archetypal novel: an antagonist—or rather, a multitude of them: the Golden Prince and the Keeper being the most notable—contrives to wreak some evil, or are presently in some state of evil. The protagonists attempt to survive, but also to truimph.

For the Lady Stella and the Dragon Orm do indeed truimph. At no small cost to themselves, alas—such is the workings of any good tale—but triumph they do.

Before I present my analysis—why not take a look?

Read the Lady and the Dragon

Analysis

Here I shall refrain from providing an in-depth analysis; for to do so would require many words, and more time than I’ve permitted—curse this illness of mine. Instead, I will draw attention to (and provide clarification for) the most pertinent aspects of this work.

Chiefly among these is the evident metaphorical aspect to this fairytale. The Lady Stella is a woman, and a kind, tenacious one at that; but she is also a symbol of the oppressed. And who would be the oppressor, you ask? Well: that would be not the Dragon (hardly; and it would be terribly cliché) but the Golden Prince.

He—along with the real mastermind behind the plan, the Keeper—represents the patriarchy. The latter is not some crash caricature invented by certain contemporary self-proclaimed feminists (who indeed are professional offence-takers, not fighters for freedom) but rather: it is the truth. Behind it, there lies a callous king; a desire for power and sex, no matter how it be given; and most of all: an enduring disregard for human life and human suffering.

The patriarchy has subtler, more insidious forms too. Take one such:

‘You are no man, but a shadow;
‘A creature of ghastly evils done
‘Of dark words said by men to boys
‘And evil to good.’

Now, this being a mere poem, it does not concern itself with analysing the many and varied forms of patriarchy, the causes, the expression, et cetera et cetera. No: this poem serves merely to give an insight. Patriarchy can be insidious; it can embed itself deep into the minds of children (male and female alike) in a manner not dissimilar to a genetic disease.

There are other metaphorical plays; indeed it may be argued that the poem itself is actually one giant metaphor. In the beginning, Stella is imprisoned within a castle:

Forged of men’s cruel intent
Built of crude granite; its windows barred
Its walls high, and its gate impenetrable,
The castle secures the Rebellious One
Oh so very well.

The castle may best be surmised with the words: ‘Know thy place.’ If you are imprisoned within its confines, you are in effect trapped from interacting meaningfully with the world; from political discourse, ownership of the means of production, and from any meaningful kind of self-agency. Yes, Stella has some limited control over her body in her choice of fashion, for example; but being imprisoned, she is unable to, say, ride a horse.

The topic most pertinent, however, is not the castle but the Dragon. Who is he? We learn that his name is Orem, and that he once betrayed the Ways:

I am Orem, the Great Dragon;
‘I betrayed those evil Ways
‘And neither Keeper, nor King
‘Nor the many men of savage armies
‘Could break my vigil.
‘I cannot control, but I cannot be defeated.’

Beyond this, I shan’t say too much. He is certainly loyal to Stella—even as a dragon, free to roam the world, and immune from near all human depredation, he yet holds fast. He protects her from many a dark scheme and insidious plot, despite having no such obligation. On a personal level, he is a hero; a man willing to stand in her defence, no matter the cost.

On another level, he is perhaps indicative of some societal force. Not all men are power hungry patriarchs; and though many may be deceived by the patriarchies’ lies and corrupting words, few willingly choose to subvert women for personal gain or sheer sadistry. Orem may be that man who treats his wife well, despite whatever others may think or do; Orem is he who stands for the defence of the innocent, no matter the price.

Let us conclude by addressing one more important thing: their success. Somehow, Stella and Orem do defeat the Keeper and his acolytes. How? The cause is two-fold. Firstly, Stella fights. At times, her fight may seem futile; but it is her defiance that ultimately destroys the Keeper’s insidious powers.

And it is also Orem, the Dragon, that kills these purveyors of evil. Take from that what you will.

21 Sept 2015

Musings on the Ark

Not too long ago, I promised more news of the Ark. Today I can fulfill that promise; I have indeed news of the Ark, including an extra chapter, and details on the direction of the plot—as well as more general comments on writing, characterisation, and so forth.

The Ark

First off: take a look! I have now written four chapters and a prologue; these can be read right here. Beyond this, I will publish no more; instead I will keep you up to date and interested with other endeavours. Up on the list is more poetry, along with a few more essays on literary matters—characterisation will be one such.

But back to the matter at hand.

In terms of plot, I am currently writing part one—entitled Love. This, as you may be able to guess, will focus primarily on character development and backstory. I am elucidating on Conall’s personality; on Casey’s too, with both being painted alike but different. Conall is a studious sort, but not averse to rebellion—to living free in the pursuit of happiness, as teenagers are wont to do. He is eloquent, yet blunt; and he is attractive, but not vain.

Casey too is at least intellectually minded, if perhaps not nearly so studious. Both find interest in poetry, and in the technical aspects of existence; and yet both are willing to joke, to find release... to be teenagers.

There are differences too. Conall still has his parents, whereas Casey must live in the care of a strange, dotting uncle. These differences may seem trivial, but they are not. The loss of two parents is no easy burden to bear, for one so young.

For all these details, however, one thing must not be forgotten: they are but mere details. Part one has to do more than be a primer. It must excite, it must capture the imagination; it must be, to put it in simple terms, an Alex Stargazer novel.

On matters of plot I shall speak little. But rest assured that though the beginning may be... gentle, in its impetus, it is not a mark of the book as a whole. For in the Ark there will be pain, and loss; there will be love, too—and not the love of newly awoken teenagers, but a love tempered in fire.

And if there be life, so there be death. No tale is complete without it, in truth.

But until then, the beginning shall suffice in elucidating on the strange, complicated word of the Ark. Read it to learn of phosphorescent grass that glows bright green in the night; read it to learn of strange new technologies, of powerful computers and cars of the future. And most of all: read it for the beginnings of a great romance.

To Finish

This post is number 100 in this blog. It is part of many more pages, essays, and the great unfathomable effort behind this behemoth.

This is a blog that has been accessed ten thousand times, since its inception months ago. Like the Ark, it is the product of great labour, and great energy spent in creating its analogies; it insights; and its strange stories born of words and desires. Like the Ark, it has taken months to build—and months it will take, to even reach 100,000 hits.

But like so many good things, it will not come cheap. Nor will the Ark. I do not hope to circumvent the path set out by Fate, or its emissary—necessity. What I do hope? That the Ark can reach the success it so rightly deserves.

Is this foolish? Perhaps. I have yet much to do, many more journeys to take. In a sense, I am much like Conall and Casey: I’ve gotten this far, but there is so much more yet to see...

Until then, may the stars be with you. And do keep an eye out on this blog of mine—there may yet be another addition to my thirty poems.

19 Sept 2015

On FPTP

Hail readers! My previous post on the Refugee Crisis may have been overly political for my literary-inclined followers; but rest assured that literary content is indeed on the table. Though I am kept occupied by school—with its homework, exams, and hard decisions—I have completed more of the Ark. Thus, I will soon release a post outlining the progress of the Ark; along with, naturally, a selection of quotes and introspection with regards to what direction the Ark will take.

Currently, it is yet in the early stages of inchoate love. But of course, the Ark is more than just a love story. It is a tale of a fight against all odds; of finding purpose and the will to live in a strange, fantastical new world.

But until then, I am releasing my article on the First Past the Post voting system. Initially, I hoped that OpenDemocracy—a small online magazine specialising in politics, human rights and foreign affairs—would be kind enough to publish it. Alas, they have not replied to my submission. So: why not take a look, and judge for yourself?


FPTP is unrepresentative and obsolete. But few have proposed convincing alternatives; and fewer still are willing to challenge the status quo.

Parliamentary Representation Gained

Votes Won

Attribution: Wikimedia foundation.

The General Election should have been a wake up call. British politics has finally become pluralistic; as, indeed, many European nations already are.

But somehow, it wasn’t. The Tories are happy to continue with the dreaded First Past the Post, having been gifted with a majority—tenuous as it is—now and for much of their history; while Labour is too concerned with its leadership election, and deciding what it really stands for, to campaign. (This is assuming the Labour Party even wants to change the system, which many in the PLP don’t.)

It is the sad irony that underlies FPTP: the victor, even if possessed of good intentions, is given every incentive not to change the system. And it is the victors—and in the case of FPTP, only the victor—who can change the status quo.

The Lib Dems have been campaigning against FPTP for years; and for years, their efforts have been in vain. The Greens have no meaningful power with which to amerlioate their situation. Ditto UKIP, which won 13% of the votes but only achieved 0.2% representation in Parliament.

Such a system can no longer be considered just. In the days of old, when there was only Labour or the Tories (or the Liberals, back when they were a political force) FPTP might have been considered fair—or at least, necessary. Even then, there were always internal conflicts between different ideological factions: Atlee had the Bevanites, Major his Bastards.

But with divisions now increasingly clear—as shown by Cameron over Europe, and most strikingly in the Labour leadership contest, with Kendall and Corbyn being quite different animals—it is increasingly clear that FPTP is a dinosaur.

The question, then, is what to replace it with?

The Hybrids and the Bastards

Aside from a simple proportional representation system—where MPs are elected to Parliament on the basis of party votes, and their position on “party lists”—there are two proposed alternatives. One such is the Single Transferable Vote.

STV, in short, is a system whereby voters indicate their preferred choice of candidates in a constituency—e.g. I can nominate my local Labour candidate 1st, the Green candidate 2nd, and so on—and the second preferences of losers are distributed once they are deselected. For example: if Liz Kendall comes last in the contest, her voter’s second preferences will go mainly to Yvette Cooper, with a few ending up for Andy Burnham.

This system generally works for internal party elections, corporate board votes, and the like: the most favoured candidate is usually selected, and the system is well equipped for dealing with voters divided between broadly similar options.

STV can also help ameliorate instances where voters live in marginal seats between, say, Labour and the Tories: they may choose to vote Green, or Lib Dem, but can gift second preferences to Labour, for example.

But STV was rejected in a referendum, and for good reason: it still produces unrepresentative and often unexpected results, with tactical voting and gerrymandering playing a significant role

The other alternative is the Additional Member System—as used to elect members to the Scottish Parliament, and (in modified form) to the German Bundestag.

In this, voters get two votes: one for their constituency, the other for a proportionally represented region. Essentially, AMS is a hybrid. It works to allow voting for both party and individual candidate; but it is only semi-proportional—the Greens and UKIP, for example, would still end up with only half the MPs their votes would have given them under PR.

AMS is as much a damning indictment of FPTP as anything: the results produced under FPTP are so disproportionate, so out of touch with the voter’s intent, that even a hybrid system still produces highly irregular outcomes.

In the case of the German Bundestag, “hanging seats” are used to ensure proportionality: if the Greens, for example, won 8% of the popular vote but only 1% of the seats, the system permits them to elect additional MPs from their regional party lists. Thus, proportionality is ensured.

There’s just one problem. Two, in fact. Firstly, the House of Commons already has well over 600 MPs—is it practical to add 100 hanging seats on top of that, resulting in a house that has close to 800 MPs?

Secondly—and more importantly—the system effectively leads to toxic power struggles within parties: in smaller parties, it is advantageous for members to gain a place on the regional lists. This can lead to all manner of backstabbing and gerrymandering; and it also means that candidates with good track records have little chance of getting into Parliament if the party elite doesn’t like them.

In the case of larger parties, the opposite holds true: members will want nominations to seats—especially safe seats—and few will desire being on the regional lists.

There are proposed workarounds. In some systems, members can stand for both regional lists and constituencies; but while this can be helpful, it poses various complexities and difficulties.

But let me be clear: party politics is an issue that affects any kind of voting system. Whether it be party lists, or preferred candidates being “parachuted in” to safe seats (as occurred with Shawn Woodward, the Tory defector, under Blair’s primeministership)—either way, it is an issue that needs to be resolved by parties, not by voters.

A Question of Proportionality

The final alternative is pure proportional representation: if you have votes, you are given seats. Who gets to go to Parliament is decided by the party list.

This system has been denounced by the Tories for being subject to “party favouritism”—including by my very own Tory MP, Nadhim Zahawi, who was himself chosen by the Party to represent a safe seat! But more legitimate criticisms have been posed, and the most pressing of these concerns stable governments.

Critics argue that PR leads to unstable minority governments, or to fragile coalitions; but this argument doesn’t wash, for two reasons. Firstly, countries in which PR is implemented—examples include Austria, Denmark and many more—do in fact have relatively stable governments. Rarely was Helen Thornen Schmidt, the former Social Democratic PM for Denmark, bound by her hands when discussing on behalf of the nation (to quote John Major). This is despite having been in a coalition in which her party made up half the MPs; the reminder belonging to an eclectic alliance of People’s Socialists, Red-Greens, and Liberals.

Secondly, is not it true that FPTP produces these so-called “stable governments”. British parties are coalitions—one need only look at Corbyn and Kendall, or at Cameron and IDS, to realise this. But not only does FPTP give the illusion of stable government; it is in fact less stable than the governments produced by PR.

In a PR system, a coalition is subject to formal coalition pacts; to non-binding confidence and supply agreements; and to clearly defined positions on issues, held visibly by different parties. This arrangement is much more stable than that found in a “broad church” party, whereby each wing serves to denounce the other (as Labour is experiencing now) or to reach compromises that neither please the party nor convince the electorate (case in point: Miliband).

Fearing the Little Guy

The final complaint levelled against PR is, ironically, is that it doesn’t block small parties from gaining representation. This is only partially true: countries like Germany, for example, have 5% limits on gaining any seats in the Bundestag (parties with votes below the threshold are excluded and the composition of the Bundestag reflects that).

This is helpful in keeping out, say, the BNP; but what about the elephant in the room: UKIP?

Tony Blair raised this very concern, and even went as far as to suggest that smaller parties generally hold excessive power by virtue of deciding the majority.

But there are problems with this. Firstly, small parties will never be in government on their own; and if you’re not in government, there is little you can do. Labour knows this the hard way. It is therefore imperative that small parties attempt to gain favourable standing with larger parties; but doing so requires making compromises. In short: a small party cannot hold a large party to ransom, because to do so means being irrelevant.

Smaller parties are also often ideologically left-leaning or right-leaning; the Danish Red-Greens will never go into coalition with the Danish far right, for example.

But Blair is right to ask questions over what a Tory–UKIP coalition would look like. A match made in Hell, some would say; and a very fragile one at that, seeing as to their considerable differences over Europe, gay marriage, and more besides.

It is however worth mentioning that the vote share under FPTP is likely going to be different to that gained under PR. Many Tory voters will vote UKIP; and many Labour voters will vote Green. But let’s not exaggerate: the Tories and Labour will still be the two biggest parties in Parliament.

The challenge may be a more unexpected one. UKIP, at the end of the day, is a minority party. But the differences between Corbyn and Kendall are real, while the difference between Kendall and Cameron is not that great. It may be the case that the entire party landscape will be fundamentally altered: the Blairites will join the Cameroonians (and the Cleggites), to form the Market Party; UKIP will remain UKIP, but IDS will find himself at home; while many Greens and what remains of the Lib Dems will defect to Labour, perhaps to form the Liberal Green Socialists, or something of the sort.

Such speculation aside, one thing is clear: it is in the interests of democracy, and that of the country, for FPTP to be scrapped. At this stage, anything would be better.

And to assuage the nervous socialists among you: if you want to keep out the far right, look to Austria. Despite two far right parties collectively gaining over 20% of the vote, moderates among Social Democrats and Conservatives set aside their differences and formed a coalition.

Conclusion

Whatever system will replace FPTP, there will be challenges. The establishment—among the Tories, but even within Labour—will not take kindly to having their hegemony disappear behind a flurry of compromises and coalitions. There will be doubters, among left and right. But Britain must challenge this political inertia. The future of meaningful, working democracy rests on it to do so.