Last week I filmed a talk and Q&A by Professor Tim Jackson, Professor of Sustainable Development at the University of Surrey. Professor Jackson was the after-dinner speaker at a work dinner, so I probably should stress that the views expressed are his, and not those of my employers!
It was a very dark room so apologies if, like me, you’re not watching on the best screen on the market.
Professor Jackson’s talk was a fascinating look at how tomorrow’s companies should be run, the values they should embrace, and how they should measure success. Professor Jackson particularly tackles the weaknesses of GDP as a measure of success.
The moment that really stayed with me as I left the room was topical, however. Watch Tim Jackson’s view of the UK Government’s 2010 Comprehensive Spending Review below:
The story which broke on Thursday was still rolling two days later, as I woke to a debate on my local radio station asking “should MPs travel first class?” It won’t surprise you that when asked the question in the context of Winterton’s outburst, most callers were of the opinion that MPs should be made to travel standard class. In fact, sod standard class, they should be dragged on a rope attached to the back of the train while working people queue up to use the toilet (between stations, naturally).
Yet, as someone who commutes five days per week in standard class, I find Winterton’s point uncontroversial when examined dispassionately.
A private environment
First – it is in the nature of many people (myself included) to look over the shoulder of people who are reading / using a computer, in any environment. We are natural nosey parkers. This is something I lamented last month while checking my inbox on the gay social networking site Thingbox, whilst on a train. (Those of a sensitive disposition should note that the screenshot contains some rather close to the bone humour, and, ahem, strident language. I have concealed the identities of the guilty.)
In first class, most train companies put three seats in to a space which would take five seats in standard class. Many customers will have their own table. Just as a point of logistics it is harder to rubber-neck the papers / screens of your fellow travellers. It could also be argued that there is a culture of discretion. As MPs often help those who are in the most dire of straits, we should consider whether casework correspondence in particular could be read in standard class.
It’s impossible to answer that question without first defining what an “Internet election” is. Traditionally to my mind there have been two possible definitions:
An election where a stasticically significant number of seats, ten or more, change hands either as the direct result of online campaigns by political parties candidates, or because positive online campaigning was a critical factor.
An election where any number of MPs, as low as a single MP, is undeniably ousted from their seat by a negative campaign either by political opponents or independent critics, mustered online.
But a third possibility is emerging.
My belief is that when we look back on the General Election of 2010, for all the effort poured in to them the defining story will not come from My Conservatives, or the Liberal Democrats’ soon to be launched competitor, Act.
It could come from a signature pre-planned campaign. If, for example, the TaxPayer’s Alliance aren’t working right now on a postcode searchable system in which voters can see what their sitting MP has claimed on expenses, and what their opponents have said their approach to expenses will be, then they need to sack the person responsible for their digital effort and re-hire quickly.
More likely, the defining online moment of GE2010 will come from Twitter. Watch this short video before you go any further:
For as long as I can remember – probably about the age of six or seven – I’ve attended Remembrance Sunday, either as a young chorister or later as a face in the crowd. Each year I also privately mark the two minute silence for Armistice Day, and I have to admit to some sadness that it’s seven years since I worked for a company which stopped the whole place at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month.
As Armistice Day continues to somewhat inevitably fade from the public consciousness, the two conflicts in Iraq and the conflict in Afghanistan have made Remembrance Sunday ever more relevant and prominent. Today we have no choice but to look the human cost of political decisions directly in the eyes – it must be deeply sobering for those entrusted with national leadership.
Anyway, without wishing to be maudlin, whatever your reason for remembrance and reflection today I hope Perotin’s Beata Viscera helps you along your way.
To the Church of St Peter, Chillesford today. There’s always a slight moment of apprehension when you try the door of a rural church – you never know whether or not it’s open to the public. This church had an approach which was simple, but put the visitor at ease straight away.
I’ve been looking for an opportunity to try out the video camera on my new phone (HTC Hero), and though I’m a bit disappointed with the recording quality, here’s the resulting vlog on that church, and some thoughts on opening up public buildings.
