The Ark and Other Difficult Matters

As of late, dear reader, I have ceased to blog. This is unfortunate, but to some degree unavoidable: I was concerned both with my UCAS application—I am applying to a number of UK universities as a contingency plan—and also because A levels are a substantial endeavour. In particular, I have been quite busy with physics coursework.

I shan’t talk too much of such matters, for they are not the goal of the Magical Realm. What I shall say: I have decided to study PPE (politics, philosophy and economics) at university, due primarily to the fact that I enjoy all three subjects and cannot decide between them. Also, my interests in the Labour party would be well matched.

But onto the topic of this post. The Ark, my romantic scifi novel extraordinaire, has been steadily growing; I have finished writing chapter eight, and will soon have chapter nine written. With chapter ten, the first part of the book—entitled Love—will have been completed. There are two parts that will follow.

The first, entitled Life (perhaps ironically), shall concern itself with Conall and Casey’s struggle to survive. It will likely be of similar length to part one, or perhaps slightly longer. The final part, however, shall be entitled Fate; it shall be shorter, but will culminate with the end of the Ark.

If you are wondering ‘Will there be a sequel’ then I shall say this much: it is a real possibility.

With such detail aside, let us address some questions regarding part one. Or, indeed, the book in general.

Conall and Casey; Not Conall and Clara

This is almost without doubt the question that will trouble readers most of all. To put it crudely: why is it a gay novel?

The answer lies with three aspects. Firstly, the Ark was conceived with Conall and Casey—and in my conception, as you may know, I have no conscious hold. My ideas originate from some strange creative ether; from the part of my mind that sees beauty and wonder, and creates tales to behold.

It is true that the process of writing is also a conscious one, not merely a conduit for the unconscious. But it would be sheer folly to attempt to consciously alter such a key aspect of the novel: it could, in fact, destroy it.

Secondly, why would I even wish to change it? Their relationship is a beautiful one. And as they say: why fix what ain’t broke?

Finally: let’s talk politics. It is no secret that being gay was frowned upon in the Anglophone world, and indeed much of the rest of Europe, for some centuries. Not since forever, mind you—in Russia, Orthodox and patriarchal as it was, homosexuality was common and open since Ivan IV up to about the 19th century[1]; likewise it was spoken of in pre-mediaeval England, and in Ancient Greece Theba had an army division of male lovers [2]—but, by and large, it was taboo throughout the post-mediaeval world.

It was only since the 1967 that being gay was decriminalised in the UK. Gay marriage—which may perhaps be termed the ultimate acceptance—wasn’t made law since later into Cameron’s first term. That’s just two few years ago!

The gay equality movement has long since struggled with repudiating certain pernicious ideas about homosexuality. One such is the belief that gay people—men in particular—are promiscuous and not interested in monogamous, loving relationships. Another is the belief that gay people are somehow abnormal—pathologised, even.

But what better way to put these myths to rest, than by the very antithesis of all these pernicious stereotypes?

That said, don’t get the wrong idea. The Ark is not a polemic and is not created out of political desire; it is a story. A story with a very powerful tale to tell—and one that ultimately transcends mere politics.

Let’s Talk Scifi

The matter of creating a scifi world is a difficult one. Indeed, any kind of universe creation is a difficult proposition; but unlike, say, fantasy worlds—a scifi world is yet bound by the laws of physics as we currently understand them.

This provides both challenges and opportunity. I do, for example, explain the operation of super-light travel:

‘Now, Conall, do you recall asking about the Ark’s means of propulsion—specifically that pertaining to superlight speeds, better known as warp?’

Conall nods. Admittedly, I had been curious also, though I had
never taken to asking.

‘Are you two familiar with General Relativity?’ he begins. We nod.

‘I don’t really believe you, so I’ll explain a bit. Einstein’s theory was many things, but one of its key discoveries was linking space with time; and it is this space-time fabric, which the Ark affects.

‘We see General Relativity in action all the time: satellites, as you
may already know, operate to a different timescale. Time, in space,
actually “flows” faster than on Earth. We have to correct for this; if not, GPS would never work.’

‘We know all this—right, Conall?’ I interrupt. Conall nods.

‘What you are probably unaware of, however,’ Alistair continues, ‘is
that space-time is affected not only by gravity, but by a variety of other factors. Broadly known as the stress-energy tensor, this includes radiation and electromagnetic fields.

‘It is the latter by which the Ark operates. Its ‘engines’—more correctly known as field generators—produce a powerful electromagnetic field that alters space-time. The effect is such that the Ark can distort space itself, and thus achieve faster-than-light travel.

‘It should be noted, however, that the Ark does not travel through
space, but rather: that space itself is being “distorted” so to speak. You must be weary of applying classical paradigms to quantum events; time, for example, is not so much a continuum by which we traverse, but an abstraction generated by varying rates of change of physical events.’

Much of what I say is actually correct. There is indeed a space-time fabric, and a stress-energy tensor; whether these principles can be applied in practice is another matter, but the principles are sound.

In other areas, I take a uniquely… philosophical view of technology. Rather than inventing improbable technological creations, I instead think it more compelling to take extant technology to new heights. Electric cars, for example, are common place; and yet the descriptions of the electric powertrain, for example, is actually true to cars that exist today—like the Mercedes SLS electric drive.

I believe this makes the Ark a world in which one is remarkably familiar with, and yet utterly amazed by. That, I believe, is true to how change actually works.

Finishing Off

I have talked at length on the matter of the Ark. Now I must continue with writing it; please do humour my efforts. And as for the Magical Realm, I shall see whether I can persuade my friend Oli to once more write an essay on political matters.

Until then: may the stars be with you.

Jeremy Corbyn: Not so Unelectable

Owing to substantial interest from my readers, I am bumping up this post—and including additional data. If you wish to comment, please do so below; and apologies for my lackadaisical blogging efforts as of late. The Ark is growing steadily...

A strange malady seems to have overtaken the Labour party. Some call it ‘Corbynmania’; others call it, more simply, ‘madness’.

But most call it ‘hope’. And it is indeed the majority who decided the fate of the Labour Party that Saturday—let us not forget that. So: what are we to do?

Certain wings of the party—notable proponents include Simon Danczuk, Chuka Umunna and Liz Kendall—are reluctant to move forward. ‘This is madness; we will be annihilated; what disaster has befallen us!’ they claim.

Absurd as it may seem, their claims require careful consideration in order to be proven, or—as I will show—disproven. And we cannot ignore them; if not for preserving ‘party unity’ then for a more simple reason: they may have a point. If Jeremy cannot keep the party together, if his policies are not workable, or if—most importantly of all—he cannot convince the wider electorate to vote for them, then the Labour party must be prepared.

A relative minority of Corbyn supporters have expressed support for the idea that, even if Corbyn doesn’t do very well, he would at least have stood fast to principle. To this I say: rubbish. Power without principle is anarchy; but principle without power is a pipe dream. If some form of compromise is indeed necessary, we owe it to the people we represent—not just the disabled and the poor, but also the millions of middle-income people fooled by the Tories—to win power.

But are such grave compromises really necessary, and is Corbyn the unelectable disaster some profess him to be? Let’s take a closer look.

Renationalisation etc.

One of the matters that Corbyn is rather popular on—despite claims made by ill-informed media commentators—is in his idea to renationalise the railways, the Royal Mail, and to a lesser degree the energy companies. I previously quoted polls conducted by YouGov in my analysis of Socialism, but it is worth re-iterating them:

Interestingly, we see that not only are Corbyn’s policies popular among his own party and other vaguely left-leaning parties like the Lib Dems (as well as the SNP, etc.); but that they are popular in general, and significantly by UKIP voters and even quite a few Tory voters.

So: Corbyn’s not going to have any trouble pushing that through.

A similar story may be found with regards to renationalising Mail and Energy:

So, on the basis of public opinion, Corbyn is not going to have any difficulty finding supporters for his renationalisation policies. However, there is another question to be had here: is it actually a good idea to renationalise, and if so, how can this be achieved?

Let’s start with rail. The case is overwhelming: since privatisation, railway ticket prices have increased 22% (adjusted for inflation); subsidies have increased, but most of the money has gone directly into shareholder’s pockets; and the UK has rail prices that are as much as double those of nationalised European nations. (We Own It)

Furthermore, it is estimated that simply by not having to pay shareholders, the government could chop off 18% from ticket prices. (ibid.)

Nor can it be argued that the railway companies provide better service: the average age of the trains has gone up; and to add insult to injury—they are more overcrowded, too, with only a 3% increase in carriage capacity to meet a 60% rise in demand. (ibid.)

Renationalising them isn’t complicated either. The UK state still owns much of the rail infrastructure, and the companies run the trains on franchises; when they expire, the state can run them once more.

The energy companies—known collectively as the Big Six, and owning over 95% of the marketshare—have also increased their prices by between 40% and 20% (for gas and electricity respectively) since 2007, despite seeing a tenth-fold rise in profits within the same period. (We Own It) The latter is particularly damning: while the global price of gas varied significantly at that time, the substantial rise is down mainly to companies pocketing a healthy profit.

Indeed, Corporate Watch even calculated that nationalising the energy companies would serve to bring savings of £150 a year to each household, on average. (CorporateWatch)

But how are we to nationalise them? This is where Corbyn gets into some difficulty. Buying the companies at market rate is out of the question: it would cost £185B (TheGuardian) He could theoretically impose price freezes, regulation on passing down the cost of falling gas prices, and so on; this would lower their stock value, allowing these companies to be bought cheaply.

That, however, is no way to run good government. More likely, Corbyn can attempt a municipal system of state ownership: municipalities can run their own power stations, and charge their customers accordingly. Alternately, the state could simply buy one company, and let the others go out of business. That’s capitalism for you.

Welfare, And Other Tricky Matters

This is perhaps where Corbyn may fall. The public’s opinion on welfare seems rather divided:

However, the situation is not so simple as it looks. For one, a lot of opposition to welfare in general stems from certain assumptions—apocryphal ones:

The amount of misinformation presented to the public, and supported by the Tories—implicitly or explicitly—is remarkable. One woman believed the Tories to be the party of the poor, and Labour... not so. She also apparently believed that the rich shouldn’t pay more tax—evidently the trade-off was not clear: if you support this, you will pay more tax yourself, or you will face cuts to the NHS. (In fact, the Tories have done just that—by scrapping tax credits.)

A pair of women believed that the Labour party supported the ‘scroungers’—people who don’t want to work, and want to stay on benefits.

Liz Kendall was right to point out that the Labour party has a serious problem: the public believes Labour to be the ‘something for nothing’ party. But Kendall’s response wasn’t the correct one. The solution is not to feed into this nonsense; not to agree that the ‘scroungers’ are stealing the taxpayer’s money (fact check: fradulent benefit claims make up 0.7% of the welfare budget (ONS)) or that Britain is facing some imminent crisis on welfare.

Because Britain is facing a welfare crisis, and that’s the one created by Iain Duncan Smith: his regime is responsible for the deaths of thousands. (TheGuardian)

Still, there are turbulent times ahead. Getting Labour’s message out to the public, and killing these apocryphal rumours where they stand—well, it won’t be easy. Perhaps it would be easier to compromise. But it wouldn’t be the right thing to do; at least not if compromise requires near total capitulation, as seems to have befallen Kendall.

Trident, NATO, and Other Matters

I shan’t be discussing these matters overly much. I have already stated that I disagree with Corbyn’s foreign policy, on my Socialism essay; but I’m not so presumptuous as to think the public are wise enough to agree with me. The media commentariat evidently needs to get out more—the polls tell a story very different from their narrative...

The public are opposed to extending the bombing campaign on Syria... Source: The Independent

Jonathan Knott, over at OpenDemocracy, is also worth quoting with regards to how much voters actually care about NATO and Trident...

So 55% supported retaining nuclear weapons in some form. But given that before they were asked specifically about Trident, about a quarter (23%) didn’t know whether the UK had any nuclear weapons or plans to replace them, it’s hard to argue that this is a high priority for voters.

This ComRes poll also has an interesting tale to tell... Apparently, voters mostly agreed with the statement: ‘Nuclear weapons are too expensive for governments to maintain.’

The public also seems quite amenable on other aspects of Corbyn’s policy, including support for the minimum wage and rent controls...

Immigration

Readers have enquired as to why I omitted a section on immigration; the answer to this is: it simply did not cross my mind at the time. I am, generally speaking, not particularly concerned about immigration—nevertheless, as with many issues, I do not presume to be in the majority. The public’s views on immigration are somewhat complex; it’s worth taking a look at a lot of the data.

Firstly, the picture very generally appears to be that the public feels negatively about immigration—in economic terms particularly:

(It seems almost superfluous to mention that nearly all economists—like those from the Imperial College, or the National Institute for Economic Research—have come to the conclusion that immigration is positive for the UK economy; opinion triumphs knowledge, it seems.)

Nevertheless, the picture is more complex than this. For one, more people believe that refugees should be allowed in as opposed to not (48% versus 38%); further, more people believe that NHS staff from abroad should be allowed in as opposed to not. (YouGov).

As usual, I feel it necessary to bring some facts to bear. A lot of people are under the impression that immigration has dramatically increased in recent years, for example:

With Farage’s and Cameron’s rhetoric, it’s not hard to see why. But as is sadly all too often the case, this is not what is actually happening—at least not so simply.

Source: Migration Watch

While net migration has been unusually high this year and the year before, it was significantly lower between 2011 and 2013; lower even than the years previous. Why? Finding the exact causes would require more words than I’ve time for—but, likely, we are seeing both statistical variation (notice the variation in the early 2000s and in the 80s?) and the effect of one of the largest refugee crises in recent history. The NHS also saw significant shortages of qualified medical personnel, which perhaps explains another part of the equation.

So: how would Corbyn fare in this matter? It’s hard to say. Corbyn is pro-immigration, yes; but if he would be able to convince others of his point of view (as good politicians are meant to) then this may not prove a problem. Further, it is hard to determine exactly how this would sway an election result—a lot of people are concerned about immigration, but are they not also concerned about unemployment, financial security, and housing? And what exactly are the other parties going to be offering in that dimension?

UKIP only won one seat—so voting for them is unlikely to result in any meaningful change—and their policy on the economy ranges from the merely very stupid (like flat tax: if you earn £16K and have lost your tax credits, prepare to pay more tax—just like the banker on £150K!) to the absolutely moronic (like scrapping the NHS—or has Farage changed his mind yet again?) The Tories are trying to make millions of people £££ worse off, and their housing policy is responsible both for the enormous increase in house prices (by subsidising demand, and and not regulating banks) and for the shortage (by not allowing councils to build houses, among other things). The Liberal Democrats promised to do a lot of things in 2010, like getting rid of tuition fees. Instead they tripled them. If you can’t trust them to fulfil their most important promise, why trust them with anything else?

But I digress. On immigration, Corbyn is, for once, in the minority. Nevertheless, there are a number of other issues to contend with—not to mention the vagaries of the FPTP system.

To Conclude

This post has been rather detailed and indeed rather lengthy. But a clear picture emerges here: Corbyn is not unelectable—his policies are popular, especially on the economy (the living wage, rent controls, and renationalisation) while even his more contentious foreign policy is far from the fringe position the commentariat makes it out to be. Indeed, Corbyn is more often that not with the majority.

Is this to say the sailing will be smooth? No. As I said before, Corbyn isn’t a man full of charisma; his ‘authenticity’ may go down well, but he is less than prime-ministerly. Don’t think this matters? Look at Miliband. Many of his policies were popular too, but he failed to win; if he had possessed better personal ratings, we (probably) wouldn’t have a Tory government.

Nor will things be easy on welfare: there is a widespread misconception of what the situation is really like, and on what the Labour party stands for. And let’s not forget the parliamentary Labour party, too; there’s quite a bit of opposition there, sometimes with reason (in the case of printing money, or leaving NATO, or on Eurotoxicity) but not always—as Danczuk and his ilk show.

Still, there’s reason to hope. The country is far from the right-leaning, NATO loving, Tory-lite image that the likes of Rafael Behr and Jonathan Freedland would have you believe. The Tories are a minority, after all; and many Tory voters aren’t Osbornomicists—but people deceived by misinformation on welfare, on immigration, and on what the Tory party really is. (Hint: they lowered inheritance tax for millionaires and cut tax credits for working people. They sold off the Royal Mail at knock-off prices to their chums in the City. Who the hell do you think they are?)

So to all this, I say: Labour, get ready to fight. Blairites, shut up—or Labour won’t get elected, and it’ll be your fault. Corbyn? Get a tie.

On the Bourgeois Novel and the Ark

Hail readers! You may have observed that I have written a great deal on politics (and political economy) as of late; these concerns are however secondary to the point of this blog, which lies with literary matters. It is also fortuitous that a matter in the Ark has come up which merits attention. In complex terms, it concerns the nature of the characters and the merits of intellectualism.

In simpler terms: the protagonists are not ordinary teenagers. They live in a world that is on the brink of collapse, and yet on the apogee of human development. Their language, mannerisms and intellect is at once both typically teenage and vastly beyond the purlieu of many adults. They are also typically bourgeois characters.

‘But Alex: shouldn’t teenagers be more like the ordinary, and less like the creations of an armchair philosopher?’ you ask.

And that would be the crux of the question, dear reader. But allow me to make a case for the armchair philosopher.

The Ordinary versus the Extraordinary

Ordinary characters appear to be in vogue, in some literary circles. There appears to be a belief that, the more ordinary the character, the better readers are able to relate to relate to them and the more they will empathise.

This is rubbish.

Empathising with a character is an act dependent upon a writer’s ability to instil emotion and portray characters vividly; believing that a more ordinary character will permit a closer connection is, to be frank, lazy writing. The whole point of a novel is not to be ordinary; not to be trapped in the same taedium vitae and mediocrity that befalls so many.

The power in a novel, the magic, lies with characters that are both extraordinary—and in whose shoes you may walk in. It is the writer that brings the reader into the characters’ mind; it is the writer that makes their struggles their own, and their emotions felt as truly as one’s own.

But nor is this to say that a character must be made into something that they are not; that they ought be exaggerated or subject to the vagaries of market calculations. A character is a character is a character, to paraphrase Gertrude Stein. Some characters are ordinary; others extraordinary. A good novel (usually) has both.

A Very Bourgeois Novel

The Ark, as I have said, also happens to be what is known as a ‘bourgeois novel’. It does not follow ordinary people. Conall, for example, is the son a of Minister; Casey’s uncle is an astrophysicist. Not only are they not-ordinary, but so too do they belong to a particular social class.

A great many an essay has been written on the matter of social class. Certainly, the 19th century Marxist account—of the workers (the proletariat), and the owners of capital (the bourgeoisie) as two distinct entities in contradiction—is one that struggles to fit today’s, or 22nd century Cork’s, ideas of class. The capitalists still exist: Casey’s mother is the owner of a major corporation.

The workers still exist. They are the people who work in supermarkets, as cleaners, or even lollipop ladies.

But many people seem to be somewhere in between. Casey’s uncle is a researcher; what of him? What of the teachers, or the programmers, or any of the other professional classes? Are they petit bourgeoisie? Evidently not—for Casey’s uncle is hired by a university, not being himself an owner of capital.

But Casey and Conall belong to what may be termed ‘the modern bourgeoisie’. These are the intellectuals, firstly and foremostly: teachers, researchers, engineers; those involved in professional and mentally complex work. They are also present in wealth, yes, but while wealth may be correlated—it is not the defining factor.

To employ a modern example: Nigel Farage is a very rich man. So is Donald Trump. But they do not make up the bourgeois, or—more accurately, I should say—the aristocratic class. Not only do the lack intelligence (both emotionally and technically, if not financially) but they also lack other features of the aristocrat: manners, charisma, eloquence—even such things as honour, or loyalty.

Perhaps I ought call the bourgeois novel the aristocrat’s novel. Yes: that would be more fitting, I believe.

Conall and Casey are aristocrats. They are not ordinary, not people you might bump into on the streets. And that’s okay. Good novels require extraordinary characters; and ordinary characters are not necessarily more relatable, or more valuable artistically.

Now, I must leave you. Chapter Six is a-written; the Ark has now over 100 pages; and I have a rather important plot point to address…