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Can The Circle Be Squared?
Last Saturday, the Grand National, one of the most prestigious fixtures in the horse racing calendar, was delayed for four minutes while police officers arrested protesters. Animal rights activists had elected to sabotage the three-day Aintree festival in general, and in particular, its high point, the Grand National. They wished to highlight what they say is the cruelty to, and exploitation of, horses for the purpose of entertainment.
Let us first consider specifics. As far as the Grand National is concerned, after all, that was the race they were particularly targeting, they might have a point. It has long been argued that too many horses start the race, and that the number should be reduced, which would increase safety for both horses and jockeys.
The going is less firm for them, though, when it comes to their general contention that horse racing is inherently cruel. Horses will, quite naturally, race one another. They can also be incredibly stubborn. If they don’t want to race, they won’t. There is no compulsion. They either want the stimulation of a race, or to please a jockey with whom they have bonded, or they don’t, and are quite happy to let their stablemates get on with it.
The propagandists would have us believe that race horses are neglected and kept in conditions of abject squalor. This is nonsense. They are kept in high quality stables, and should the need arise, get the best veterinary care available. The average race horse is fitter and healthier than most animals. Actually, they are probably fitter an healthier than most people too. This is hardly surprising. Do not forget, dear reader, that even to the most disinterested owner, a race horse represents a considerable investment. The owner will, therefore, be hoping for a reasonable return on that investment. He’ll hardly get that if he allows the horse to be neglected or abused.
Most of these campaigners wish to see a ban on horse racing. This is, of course, an utterly foolish position for them to take. Not only will it create substantial unemployment, but what on earth do they think will happen to the horses? And to future generations of horses?
A similar deficiency of thought afflicts the minds of those people who, with fire in their bellies, and a missionary zeal in their hearts, go fourth to spread the gospel of veganism. They have chosen, for reasons of conscience, not to eat flesh from the birds of the air, the beasts of the field, or the fishes of the sea, nor will they consume dairy products or eggs. Likewise, they will avoid the use of wool, leather and fur, and presumably, would choose not to own antiques made, or at least partially made, from bone, ivory or horn. So far, so reasonable. Nobody should have to consume any part or parts of animals against their will. However, what is unreasonable, is the demand that the rest of us should follow their example.
If we were all to become vegans, what would become of the animals we were hoping to save? Quite simply, they would die. Farmers would end up having to cull their herds and flocks, as unnaturally large populations of cattle, sheep, pigs, chickens, and many other animals would be unsustainable in the wild. All of those millions of corpses would, in turn, create environmental and/or health problems. As with a ban on horse racing, there would be a huge increase in the number of unemployed people – farmers, butchers, cheese makers, people who process leather, wool and silk, and a whole host of others. How would people’s pets be fed? Or would they have to expire too, so that we can’t exploit them for our personal pleasure and comfort? Will guide dogs and police dogs become extinct because exploitation is wrong, or because they simply starve? If we are to accept the specious argument that becoming vegan will immeasurably improve the environment, how, with no animals to provide manure, are crops to be fertilised? Do they seriously want us to continue to use toxic chemicals? What, with no animals, are we to use as an alternative to plastic. Oh, hang on, plastic is made from oil, which is made from … umm … animals that died millions of years ago. Oops.
Some people wish to have the freedoms to disapprove of equestrian sports, and to repudiate the consumption of all animal products. These freedoms should absolutely be their’s, and should be respected. Other people wish to enjoy equestrian sports, and to enjoy animal products, and they too should be given those freedoms, and those freedoms should also be respected. If the former group of people wish to convert the latter to their cause, not only do they need to stop their bullying, militant tactics, but they need to provide some sensible answers to some simple questions.
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Bye Cycle … I Wish
One of the proudest moments of my life occurred at about 3 minutes past 4, on the afternoon of Wednesday 4th February 2004. There I was, walking through the centre of Hereford, minding my own business, my white cane alerting pedestrians to my presence in their midst, when it happened. A cyclist, riding where he had no business to be, at a ridiculously imprudent speed, collided with my cane. The crash as both rider and conveyance fell to earth was delicious. So was the terror that emanated from him after he was volubly chastised by an elderly lady, who can’t have been much taller than his bicycle.
One of the most shameful moments of my life occurred yesterday morning. There I was, walking through the centre of Hereford, minding my own business, my white cane alerting pedestrians to my presence in their midst, when it happened. I got out of the way of a cyclist who was riding where he had no business to be. He was on a narrow pavement, so I meekly stepped into the road in order to let him past. Damn my innate curtesy!
On this occasion, there was no reckless speed. In fact, the cyclist was peddling towards me in what can only be described as a rather somnolent manner. Nor were there any cars traveling down the road. There was, therefore, no danger to my person. But it’s the principle of the thing. Cyclists, and by extension those vile velocipedes they insist on propelling, have no legal right to be on pavements, unless it has been clearly stated by a local council, that a given pavement is to be shared between peddling lunatics and pedestrians.
Not only do cyclist illegally hog places properly reserved for pedestrians, but they have the indecency to be smug about it. They insist that they are keeping fitter and healthier than the rest of us, and benefiting the environment. Dear reader, they are wrong. Utterly, irredeemably wrong.
Let us first consider health. How many cyclists who have suffered serious head injuries have been wearing good quality crash helmets? If they had been, how much money would they have saved the National Health Service? How many car accidents have there been because cyclists have finally vacated pavements and decided that the rules of the road don’t apply to them?
As for the environmental benefits, what is the impact of cycling compared to, oh, I don’t know, walking? The process of making bicycles and assorted accessories must do more damage to the planet than the manufacture of shoes.
These beings are a public menace. They hurtle through pedestrian spaces, indifferent to the trouble they cause. They do as they please on roads and blame motorists when things go wrong.
So, dear reader, what is the answer? You’ll be glad to know that I’ve been giving it some serious consideration.
I first considered the idea of making both possession and use of a bicycle a having offence, and that twelve members of the perpetrator’s family should be hanged with them. The mass culling of various families would, I think, deter the majority of cyclists. The resultant population decrease would also have a positive impact on matters environmental. However, the rainforest of bureaucracy that each case would generate, would negate any benefits. It would not, therefore, be a sensible solution.
Another possibility would be to simply outlaw bikes, and for the forces of law and order to confiscate them, and have them melted down and turned into railway lines, or ships for the Royal Navy, or planes for the RAF or guns for the army, or swings, or scaffolding, or cutlery, or … or … or … something. And that is the problem with the idea. It’s bad enough that these things should be cycled, without having to argue about how they should be recycled.
So, dear reader, I have come to the conclusion that as bicycles are vehicles, cyclists should be subject to the same rights, privileges, rules and responsibilities of those who are in charge of motor vehicles. They should have the freedom of the roads. However, they should be properly licensed, and properly insured. Drunk cycling should not be tolerated. Any breach of legislation should incur the same penalties as it would for a motorist.
I’d vote for any party that promised to do this. Let the pavements be restored to pedestrians, and the roads be the place for all things vehicular. As for those cyclists who are squeamish about sharing space with cars and lorries, tough. To backpedal slightly on Norman Tebbit’s words, and to mangle the English language a little, get off your bikes, and go back to walk.
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Nihil Dicere
In his excellent novel, Birds Without Wings, Louis de Bernieres wrote of Ibrahim, a goatherd who, as a boy, could imitate the different bleats of goats. There were, among other things, the bleat of a goat looking for its kid, and most importantly, at least for my purposes, the bleat of the goat who has nothing to say.
I find myself in sympathy with this latter goat. So, I present to you, dear reader, the following piece of approximate poetry, which will sum things up perfectly.
There once was a blogger named Basil,
Who had nothing to write which would dazzle.
He tried laughter and tears,
But still had no ideas,
Every thought simply made his mind frazzle.
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Gambling With Lives
One of the things which is causing an increased level of frustration among Facebook users, is the number of adverts. These adverts are not, in themselves, at all surprising. Facebook may be free for most of us, but it exists to make money. As we don’t pay the bills, advertisers must.
The striking thing, however, is the number of adverts relating to online gambling. Should one wish, bets can be placed on horse racing, greyhound racing, football, rugby, cricket, motor racing, politics, reality television shows, and practically anything else you care to think of. And all from the comfort of … well, wherever you happen to be, as they encourage the downloading of a smartphone app. Or if you prefer, you can have yourself dealt into a virtual poker game. And why not? Who doesn’t want to win a little extra money? But, of course, most people don’t win a thing.
But just in case we don’t get the message on Facebook, those who watch football, including young children, will receive further encouragement to place their bets. Broadcasters, tournaments, and teams are sponsored by the gambling industry. It is becoming inescapable.
Of course, gambling isn’t new. But its ease and ubiquity are.
In 2005, the Blair government deregulated the Gamblin industry. The fear was that our towns and cities would be taken over by “super casinos”. But instead, the advent of the smartphone occurred. This meant that anyone could, while at work, or on a train, or at the pub, or in front of the television, or on the lavatory, or in bed, place bets with almost no effort, and win, or more probably lose, a fortune. Nobody risked being seen entering or leaving unsavoury-looking betting shops. Instead, a couple of taps on the phone could be a reply to a text from a colleague or the wife, or something to do with social media. Given the ease and the constant advertising, it’s hardly surprising that it became more and more popular.
Until three years ago, almost all users of these sites and apps were men. But a huge boost to the number of female gamblers came as a result of the pandemic. Like men, women quickly found that online gambling eased the boredom of the lockdowns.
All this is very concerning. Numerous people suffer because of gambling. Businesses are destroyed, marriages are wrecked, mental health suffers, and most tragic of all, people are driven to commit suicide. The UK gambling industry is the wealthiest of its kind in the world, being worth billions a year. During the 2021-22 financial year, the industry made 10 billion pounds,, about 6.4 billion being in online gambling. 75 per cent of the industry’s profits come from 5 per cent of gamblers. These are not people who have an occasional flutter on the Grand National or the FA Cup final. Nor are they the ones who, now and again, only put a couple of quid on the tightly regulated National Lottery, the profits of which are distributed to charitable causes. Rather, they are obsessive or compulsive users. In other words, addicts. Addicts whose finances are never checked, thus enabling them to lose thousands on bets they couldn’t afford to place.
I am, by no means, antigambling. I’m fortunate enough to be one of the lucky majority who can enjoy an occasional flutter. But having at one time been closely connected to a compulsive gambler, I am very conscious of the damage it can do. I feel, therefore, that the industry as a whole, but especially its online component, should be regulated far more strictly. A good start would be a ban on these companies advertising, and sponsoring sporting fixtures and teams. It happened with tobacco, and with alcohol. It should happen with gambling too.
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Theatrical Theology
Last Saturday, I had the pleasure of attending a delightful performance of Humperdinck’s opera, Hansel and Gretel, at my local theatre – the Courtyard in Hereford. As theatrical criticism isn’t my forte, I shan’t give a review here. The man charged with the responsibility of teaching me to write sensibly about the theatre failed spectacularly. Whether that was due to him or to me might perhaps, be a matter worthy of discussion. But if that is to happen, it will be on some future occasion.
Many actors, musicians, directors, authors and visual artists subscribe to the school of thought that says, “those who can, do, and those who can’t, criticise”. Although it is a good line, it is a foolish thought. Many critics have a profound knowledge of their subjects, and can, therefore, offer sensible views. When he was asked about thespians who don’t read their reviews, the late, great Sir Michael Hordern said, “I think it rather presumptuous of my fellow actors”.
Of course, just as no actor is perfect, no critic is perfect either. They can misread public taste by asserting that a show will either be a run-away success, or a complete flop, then the opposite happens. They can be unfairly harsh, or unduly flattering,, because of their feelings about a given actor or director. They can be intellectual snobs, lauding vertiginously high-brow plays, and sneering at anything popular. Or they can take themselves and their the theatre far too seriously.
When it comes to high-brow writing, though, the best comment I have come across was one I read earlier today. A play was described as being, “so incomprehensible that I didn’t even understand the interval”.
My favourite story about theatrical criticism is a lesson to all editors. Never tell a critic what to think.
A distinguished newspaper editor had a close friendship with a well-known playwright. When his friend’s latest play had its opening night, he sent his leading critic to review it. He made the mistake of assuming that the review would be favourable. It wasn’t.
Furiously, the editor sent the critic to a further performance, which again, received a negative review. Not even a third performance could illicit anything positive.
Eventually, the play was taken around the country. Determined to be able to print a positive review for his friend, the editor duly dispatch his critic to the provinces.
It so happened, that the night the latest review was to go to press, the paper was in the hands of the deputy editor. So the editor had, like the rest of the nation, to read the review at his breakfast table. It simply said, “Hebrews, Chapter 13, verse 8“.
Our editor knew enough to recognise that a biblical quotation was going to sum up the critics feelings, but wasn’t learned enough in matters scriptural to know where, precisely, he would find it. So having unearthed the family bible, he flicked through the pages of the Old Testament. No Hebrews. He rapidly turned the pages of the Apocrypha. No Hebrews there either. Then he turned to the New Testament, and found Saint Paul’s letter to the Hebrews. Turning to chapter 13, verse 8, he read: “Jesus Christ the same yesterday, and to day, and for ever.”
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Too Much Democracy
Most of us in the West believe in democracy. Although it is no longer regarded as proper to “civilise” people by teaching them about God and European ideas about law and order – a clever way of empire building – we do still find it acceptable to try to persuade Johnny Foreigner to embrace our Western democratic values.
But do we, ourselves, have an excess of democracy? I would argue that perhaps we do.
Firstly, there is voter apathy. For a number of reasons, people choose not to vote. They feel that their vote won’t make any difference. Or that all politicians, regardless of party, are either self-serving, useless, or both. Or they simply can’t be bothered. Turn-out in May’s local elections will, no doubt, be rather low.
Secondly, there is the question of legitimacy. Which democratically elected body has jurisdiction over any given issue? That is one of the arguments advanced by those who do not wish to have an elected House of Lords.
Thirdly, democratic campaigns can complicate the process of government. It’s bad enough when we have a general election campaign lasting about three weeks. But at least the whole country has a say in the final outcome. But what of battles within political parties?
On 7th July last year, Boris Johnson bowed to the inevitable, and announced his resignation as leader of the Conservative party. He would resign as Prime Minister once a successor had duly been elected in his stead. The parliamentary party would choose two candidates for the membership as a whole to vote on, and the result was to be announced on 5th September.
On 15th February this year, Nicola Sturgeon announced her resignation as leader of the Scottish National Party. The result of the SNP’s election will be announced in just under two weeks, on 27th March, when Sturgeon will then resign as First Minister of Scotland.
The Conservative leadership battle was long, tedious, and brutal. The SNP’s election campaign isn’t quite as long, but has so far proved just as tedious and brutal, and there’s no indication that things will change. In both cases, candidates have carried on as though there opponents were from different parties, which never implies post election stability.
For two months last summer, the Tories had no leader. On the face of it, that was their problem. However, it meant that the UK had a prime minister who could most charitably be described as a “caretaker”. He could only, as Winston Churchill might have put it, “mind the shop”.
Likewise, by 27th March, the SNP will have been leaderless for six weeks, and Scotland’s First Minister will similarly have been in office, but not in power.
Both situations are absurd, but in both cases, the party faithful have been asked to exercise their democratic rights. Conservative members were, and SNP members are in the process of being, asked to vote for people that they had almost certainly never heard of, about whom they know nothing and care less, who they have never met, and probably never will meet, and probably wouldn’t like them if they did. Hence the weeks and weeks of speeches, televised debates, articles, interviews, briefings and counter-briefings, preening and prevarication, character analyses and character assassination, hyperbole and hypocrisy.
The whole process is wrong. Not only do we have the aforementioned insane lame duckery, but these mini electorates tend to be very stupid. Let us consider the Conservatives.
In 2001, the first time that the membership outside Parliament had a say, they elected Sir Iain Duncan Smith, a man so hopeless that within two years, he had been forced to resign because he had lost the confidence of his MPs. In 2019, they voted in droves for Boris Johnson, a man whose compulsive mendacity, in addition to his extreme libidinous productivity while evading responsibility, made him thoroughly unsuitable for high office. Last summer, they went for the crazy Liz Truss. All three were the least favoured options of parliamentarians. MPs work with these candidates. They get to know their strengths and there weaknesses.
To be fair, although their only leadership campaign while in government was rather understated, the membership of the Labour Party has dropped a couple of electoral clangers. In 1980, they elected Michael Foot, who presided over a split in his party, and contrived to make Labour unelectable for a decade-and-a-half. And in 2015, they went for the horribly divisive Jeremy Corbyn, who caused another split in the party, and lead them to their worst electoral drubbing in eighty-four years.
The SNP’s membership, though, is more complicated. Duncan Smith, Johnson and Truss all appealed to the Tory right, and Foot and Corbyn to the Labour left. However, a similar thing isn’t really possible with the SNP. This is because the cause of Scottish independence is the single unifying policy. It is an idea that attracts progressives, centrists and conservatives alike. If she were not so obsessed with the breaking up of the UK, Nicola Sturgeon might have become one of the movers and shakers in the Labour Party. Similarly, given her social views, leadership hopeful, Kate Forbes, might now be a rising star in the Conservative party. So they, the members, have to decide, not who would be the best person to run the Scottish Government, but who would communicate well enough to try and persuade unionists to change their minds, and who would be best at trying to intimidate the UK Government.
Although these contests have a certain appeal to political nerds, they really should be consigned to history. For the sake of the people, indeed, for the sake of the country, All parties should abandon the idea of “one member one vote”, and return the matter to their parliamentary representatives. That way, campaigns would be shorter, and the business of government could be better managed.
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Dishonourable Honours
One of the courtesies extended to outgoing prime ministers, is the convention of allowing them to submit a “resignation” honours list. This allows them to recommend to the Sovereign anyone they feel deserves something special. Beneficiaries have included friends, colleagues, heroes and supporters.
This may sound terribly civilised, but prime ministerial recommendations are often controversial. In 1976, for example, Harold Wilson submitted a list which it is claimed, was compiled by his aid, Marcia Williams. In effect, the so-called “lavender list” – named because of the lavender-coloured note paper on which it was written – was compiled by a relative nobody. If true, It wasn’t playing the game by the spirit of the rules.
Forty years later, David Cameron caused eyebrows to raise when his wife’s hairdresser received an OBE. With all due respect to the good lady, it is doubtful that she would ever have received any honour had Mrs Cameron not been a client.
Now, the disgraced charlatan, Boris Johnson, has brought further controversy on the custom. Not only is his a longer list than the previous two combined, but if reports are true, he is making some ridiculous recommendations.
Firstly, he is proposing that four sitting MPs should be elevated to the House of Lords, but not take their seats until after the next general election. Leaving aside the fact that their Lordships’ house is rather over-filled, this is highly unconventional. It is usual for those who have been ennobled to take their seats at the earliest opportunity. As the UK constitution relies heavily on convention, this is causing much perturbation among constitutional experts.
Then there is the proposed knighthood for Johnson’s father, Stanley, a man who is not uncontroversial himself. Why? What has he done to deserve a Knighthood? Should the King really be asked to bestow any honour on a man whose greatest achievement is siring Boris Johnson? If sporting a man whose inability to tell the truth is matched only by his seeming inability to count his known children is cause for being knighted, one can only conclude that achievement is overrated.
So, what to do about it? Is it enough for Rishi Sunak to block part, or even all of Johnson’s list? He is certainly entitled to do so under the current system. The answer is no. Whether Sunak decides to submit the list in full to the King, or to edit it, this should be the last time a prime minister has any involvement with the honours system.
Unlike many, I’m not in favour of scrapping honours. However, after more than a century of prime ministers bringing the process into disrepute, beginning with David Lloyd George in the aftermath of the first world war, I am very much in favour of changing the way these things are handed out.
First, the resignation list should go. A prime minister has considerable powers of patronage while in office. There is no need for a last hurrah when he or she moves on.
Secondly, an entirely independent body should be established to process nominations for honours, vet nominees, and submit a final list to the King for his approval. Procedurally, this won’t be substantially different to what happens at present. However, those who currently do the job are part of the Prime Minister’s Office.
If these two things were to come to pass, there would be a number of benefits. The results of cronyism would be reduced, the whims and tastes of any given political leader would become irrelevant, and just as importantly, so would a prime minister’s dislike. Boris Johnson’s animosity caused at least one nomination to be blocked.
It is usual for a retiring Speaker of the House of Commons to be awarded a peerage. For the ten years of his speakership, John Bercow might, therefore, reasonably have thought that he was destined for a seat in the House of Lords. Unusually, the Government didn’t make the offer. So the Labour Party nominated him. Because of Johnson’s dislike for the erstwhile Speaker, the latter is still “Mr”, not “Lord” Bercow. Such a petty denial is shameful. One can only hope that this will be rectified soon.
I am not hopeful that the changes I have suggested will be implemented. But they should be. They would dramatically reduce corruption. Honours bestowed, officially by a grateful nation, would be rewards for public service, or achievement, or leadership, or excellence. But they would not be anyone’s quid pro quo while engaged in chumocratic backscratching.
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A Moving Experience
At the time of publication, I shall be surrounded by boxes, bags, crates and the like. I shall be involved in the chaos that is moving house, which will, I think, explain why this is going to be far from my longest post. But I couldn’t leave you to pine for me, now could I?
It must be acknowledged that, although you, dear reader, are very kind and read my ramblings, not nearly enough of your friends, colleagues, relations, superiors, subordinates, acquaintances and other assorted hangers on, follow your admirable example. This means that I’m unable to monetise this blog at present, so have to claim benefits. Isn’t “monetise” a revolting word? Anyway. Benefits.
The reason for mentioning them is, as a number of people will know, that landlords, rightly or wrongly, are reluctant to accept tenants who are in receipt of benefits. This is usually, although not always, due to the fact that claims for Housing Benefit can take a ludicrously long time to be processed. Others disapprove of anyone claiming benefits. And in some cases, the landlord’s view is irrelevant, as the agent, who for his or her own reasons, disapproves of benefit claimants, has taken the decision to dissuade a potential tenant. The disapproving letting agent, of course, blames the landlord.
In the past, I have been declined by landlords, and dismissed by agents. One agent told me that, “none of our landlords do, or will, accept anyone on benefits”. But I have been very lucky in my latest quest for an abode.
I was turned down, though, for the second property I viewed. The agent sounded very uncomfortable when he called to let me know. “The reason,” he told me, “is that the landlady’s insurance policy doesn’t allow her to accept any tenants who are on benefits”. Now, dear reader, I have no way of knowing whether or not this is true, although, given the evident discomfort of the agent, I suspect that it isn’t. Both the idea, and the thought that it should be taken seriously, are, quite frankly, ridiculous. Still, the novelty of the excuse was delightfully unexpected.
But, I have somewhere now. And the boxes, bags, crates and the like are demanding my attention.
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Who Knows Best?
During the EU referendum campaign of 2016, the cabinet minister, Michael Gove, made what can only be described as an infamous comment. During a television interview with the BBC’s Andrew Marr, Gove declared that “people have had enough of experts”. The nation spluttered as one into its collective cup of coffee. Remainers expressed shock that even a Brexitier could say something so utterly stupid, and Brexitiers wished fervently that Gove was not among their number. We all agreed that it was a fatuous remark. After all, aren’t doctors, lawyers and accountants experts? Aren’t chefs, mechanics and pilots experts? Aren’t architects, cartographers and engineers experts?
But were we right to splutter and sneer? Or despite his ridiculous-sounding assertion, did Gove actually have a point?
There has certainly been a snobbish preference for the amateur for a very long time. Prior to 1995, all English rugby union players were amateurs. No professional cricketer captained the England team until 1952. Only amateurs – or “gentlemen” -had the privilege. Many of the county sides didn’t allow professionals to lead them until well into the 1960s. During the 1920s, the Royal Geographical Society felt that even the conquest of Mount Everest should have been lead by an amateur. And so, the fearless, enthusiastic amateur, George Mallory received both its moral and financial support.
But does it really matter whether or not a rugby plater, or a cricketer, or a mountaineer is paid? Possibly not. But they are not the only groups of amateurs who can claim great prizes.
One of the greatest strengths of any democracy, is that in theory, anyone can head the government. You or I could stand for Parliament, rise through the ranks of our chosen party, and gain the seat of power. One of the greatest weaknesses of any democracy, is that in theory, anyone can head the government. No particular academic qualifications are needed, and not much experience is needed either. One of the most successful chancellors of the Exchequer, Kenneth Clarke, was a barrister, not an economist. He argued that that was an advantage, as he was not wedded to any economic dogma. There were also many economists at his disposal.
As a result of the pandemic, people have behaved as though they were experts in virology, immunology, interpretation of data, and the process of researching, developing, testing and marketing vaccines, and a whole host of other things they’d never even thought about before. Experts, on both sides of the scientific divide, were derided by many laypeople, and accused of being either pro government and big business, or weird lunatics.
And how did all of these amateurs become more expert than the experts? They read an article or two on the internet.
But possibly the most appalling display of people’s belief that the amateur is greater than the expert, has to be the tragic Nicola Bulley case. For three weeks, amateur reporters have been making ghoulish videos for their TikTok audiences, and amateur sleuths obsessed with “true crime” books, podcasts and Youtube videos, have been behaving as though they are Sherlock Holmes without the pipe. Both groups have been inconveniencing the locals, hampering the police, and adding to the considerable distress of the victim’s family. All for their own self-aggrandisement, and because they want to be more expert than the experts.
Of course economists, scientists and police officers should be questioned. That is perfectly right. But assuming, because we’ve read an article, or watched a documentary, that we laypeople know best, is wrong. It can make fools of people, or endanger people, or be cruel and insensitive.
So, is Michael Gove right? Have we had enough of experts? I don’t think so. I don’t think society ever had enough respect for experts to have had enough of them. Mind you, I’m no expert, so what do I know?
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Caeci Visum 