So Why Did We Spare the Rod and Spoil the Child? Lincoln Allison fondly remembers being caned
Lincoln Allison - Emeritus Reader in Politics at the University of Warwick and author of The Disrespect Agenda: How the Wrong Kind of Niceness is Making us Weak and Unhappy - extols the virtues of the cane.
While researching the background to the development of the Modern Olympics I came across a passage, written in 1887, in which Pierre de Coubertin extols the practice of caning in England:
To help you understand just how popular canes are, need I mention the case in which students revolted at one time because there was a question of banning the practice from their midst? Far from being considered ignominious, canings are deemed a competition in courage, the one undergoing the caning having to fight hard to hold back his tears or his cries.De Coubertin regarded caning as evidence, along with the development of organised games, of the robust physicality of English life. He thought that this aspect of English culture was good in general (thus the movement for a global games) but essential in the "toughening up" of France, still living in the shadow of its annihilation by Prussia in 1870. I was pleased to come across the passage, not least because in the course of getting students to think about the concept of sport I had listed caning (along with shopping, quizzing, bird-watching et al.) as practices which might be considered to have some of the features of sport. This was because my own experience of caning and attitudes to it was very much as Coubertin describes it.
English schools abandoned corporal punishment about a century after Coubertin extolled it. They did not do so for legal reasons - laws against it mostly came later - but largely because of educational fashion. The headmaster of a leading public school, when I was interviewing him about a completely different subject, told me in the 1980s that he had simply stopped doing it and that it was four years before anyone realised that the practice had been "abolished". The power of fashion is greater than that of reform; teachers, as much as anyone else, dread being considered old-fashioned.
At around the same time as I interviewed that headmaster I published a book on political philosophy which included a short defence of corporal punishment - largely on the grounds that it inhibited the free development of the pupil much less than more insidious forms of punishment. The publisher pleaded with me to leave it out. He said that it made me sound
like an old colonel standing at the end of the bar and braying that caning had never done him any harm.I didn't object much to the old colonel bit, even though I was quite young at the time. What I objected to was the defensive tone which I was assumed to be adopting when I was clearly arguing positively for caning as a contribution to human happiness.
Mass. Movement? Towards a Coalition for a (new) Republican Majority - Brendan Simms sketches out a strategy
Brendan Simms - Professor in the History of International Relations at the Centre of International Studies at the University of Cambridge - sketches out a strategy for the US Republicans.
The stunning upset victory of the Republican candidate Scott Brown in the Massachusetts senatorial election occasioned by the death of Ted Kennedy has electrified American pundits. There has been much discussion of whether it was Brown's charisma or the tepid performance of the Democratic candidate Martha Coakley, which decided the contest.
Pollsters are picking over which issue was ultimately decisive: health care - as most believe - or national security, which is the view of Brown's own top strategist Eric Fehrnstrom. One way or the other, it is now much clearer than it was after the Democratic gubernatorial defeats in New Jersey and Virginia last year, that the long marginalisation of the Republican Party widely predicted after the meltdown of November 2008 is far from a foregone conclusion.
This should not surprise anyone. Consider the obstacle faced by John McCain: he was looking to succeed an unpopular second-term president from his own party; he was up against a charismatic and "transformational" Democratic rival; he was deeply committed to an unpopular war; and just before the election the economy collapsed. One could go on.
All the same, McCain secured nearly 47% of the vote, a very respectable result which the vagaries of the electoral college obscured. Given that after the health-care and Iraq compromises President Obama will have huge difficulties in motivating his own base in 2012, the arithmetic for the Republicans was not looking too bad even before the Massachusetts election.
Against this background, and with the Boston wind in their sails, Republicans might well be tempted to play it safe, relying on Mr Obama to self-destruct, or giving the charismatic Scott Brown a national platform, or trying to co-opt as many of the new "tea party" activists who have been scourging Democrat spending and health plans the length and breadth of the country.
That would be a mistake. The false dawn of the 1994 elections, when Newt Gingrich's Contract with America swept to victory only for Bill Clinton to win the presidential election handily in 1996 is a good example of how a purely Congressional and populist strategy for recovery can end in tears. The filibuster-enabling additional opposition senate seat is a major headache for the Democrats, but may also allow the administration to paint the Republicans as obstructionist. If Americans - a majority of whom clearly want some sort of health-care reform - perceive this to be the case, they could well give Mr Obama the benefit of the doubt again in 2012.
Theodore Dalrymple gets a parking ticket - and ponders how a state can remain adept at revenue extraction when it is so incompetent at everything else
Theodore Dalrymple is not best pleased to be given a parking fine.
The alacrity, efficiency and speed with which monies are collected from certain members of the public are in stark contrast with the incompetence, inefficiency, and waste with which the ends for which the monies are supposedly collected are pursued. In short, the British public administration is a Moloch whose appetite grows with the feeding, and whose only real purpose is to feed itself. Existence and expansion is its very raison d'etre.
Recently I parked on a dark and rainy night in an unfamiliar road for twenty minutes. There was only one other car parked within a hundred yards. By the time of my return to the car, a fixed penalty charge ticket had been stuck on my windscreen.
It was true that I had inadvertently parked in an area of residents' parking only. I had therefore nothing to complain of, having carelessly forgotten just how regulated everything has become and that one must assume that what one wishes to do is forbidden until proven otherwise. And, in fact, I accept in general that the regulation of parking in overcrowded places is necessary, for otherwise residents might not be able to park anywhere near their homes.
However, there was something almost indecent in the haste with which I received the ticket, by comparison with what would have happened, say, if my car had been broken into and I had reported it to the police. There is no revenue to be had from policemen on the beat.
Sri Lanka's Presidential Election: How the General who ruthlessly defeated the Tamil Tigers has become the hope of Sri Lanka's liberals and Tamils
Clifford Bastin examines the background to today's Sri Lankan presidential election and explains the strange alliances which have formed.
The Sri Lankan President, Mahinda Rajapakse has called a presidential election for today (January 26), two years before his term finishes. In May this year the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) were finally routed bringing to an end a thirty year conflict. It might be assumed that this remarkable victory would comfortably guarantee a second term for Rajapakse but he is facing an unexpected challenge from his former Army Commander, General Sarath Fonseka.
Other than presiding over a stunning military victory a number of factors point to a second term for the President. Rajapakse is a shrewd and seasoned political operator, a master of lowest common denominator politics. The state controlled press and broadcast media dutifully promote the President and denigrate his opponent. The independent media with certain notable exceptions is mostly pro-Rajapakse and if their inclinations are otherwise inducements or intimidation have brought them into line. The President and his immediate family wield virtually unchecked power over the institutions and agencies of the state. Three of the Presidents brothers hold key posts and many close associates and extended family members have been appointed to leading positions in state bodies.
The relentless and strident promotion of the President's accomplishments and virtues is striking. The cult of personality is apparent from the ubiquitous posters and hoardings, some of towering dimensions. Recently a new banknote came into circulation bearing the Presidents beaming image and that of conquering troops planting a flag, conflating victory with his leadership. On New Years day all mobile phone companies were ordered to send the islands 13.5m subscribers a presidential greeting. At no cost to the Rajapakse campaign and unrestrained by modesty or electoral propriety, the SMS ran:
As promised, I delivered a free and sovereign country. Wish all the very best for the future. Happy New Year: Mahinda RajapaksaThere is no doubting the President's impressive achievement in creating conditions in which the war could be won and disproving the commonly held belief that the conflict was unwinnable. The Tigers were a ruthless and determined terrorist organization, lavishly funded by the million strong Tamil diaspora. When Rajapakse won the presidential election of 2005 a Ceasefire Agreement (CFA) established three years earlier, was still in force. It had been littered with LTTE violations and the early hope of a political resolution had evaporated. Events however were moving against the Tigers.
Farthing wise, pound foolish: Brendan Simms argues that universities would do better cutting academic salaries - especially those of Vice-Chancellors - than closing excellent departments
Brendan Simms argues that if universities have to make drastic savings they should rather start by cutting academic salaries - especially those of highly paid Vice-Chancellors - than by closing down excellent departments.
A Cambridge colleague of mine used to carry around in his wallet a little table, which showed the relative decline of academic salaries against civil servants, doctors, lawyers and other professionals since the 1960s. That was in the 1990s, and the gulf has only deepened since then. It is reflected in the kinds of houses in which Cambridge dons live: until the 1970s they used to inhabit the larger Victorian semi-detached; in the 1980s and 1990s they began to gravitate towards the artisanal terraces; and today they often need extensive support from colleges, over and above their regular salary, to buy anything at all.
Oxbridge dons are the lucky ones, moreover: most academics in universities across Britain don't have these additional benefits to fall back on. The situation in the capital (even with the London weighting) is probably worst of all, as lecturers struggle pay for housing and transport.
To make matters worse, this end-state comes for the lucky ones after they have passed through a long period of training and apprenticeship - which is becoming progressively longer. After their first degree, prospective academics have to undertake graduate work in pursuit of a doctorate which usually lasts four years or so. Most of them then spend at least another four years doing very low paid work as research fellows or temporary lecturers. They are now generally in their early thirties before they have a permanent position and a steady salary, albeit a modest one.
An anti-semitic Fledermaus in Berlin? Brendan Simms on Johann Strauss's Die Fledermaus at the Staatsoper Unter Den Linden, Berlin
Johann Strauss's Die Fledermaus
Staatsoper Unter Den Linden, Berlin
in repertory 21st November - 6th December 2009
Joachim Lange of the Wiener Zeitung has described Johann Strauss's operetta Die Fledermaus - "the bat" - as the "sacred cow" part of the German repertoire. Its catchy tunes, frivolous libretto, and much-loved dances make it extremely accessible- and relentlessly lower-middle-brow. It is as the contemporary critic Eduard Hanslick - whom Wagner parodied mercilessly as Beckmesser in the Meistersaenger - a "potpourri of waltz and polka motifs". It is watched by audiences the world over, and especially in the German lands, in the expectation of entertainment ans escape from the cares of the real world.
As such, the Fledermaus has been a standing provocation to German and Austrian directors, who have vied with each other over the past fifteen years to produce ever more controversial and "relevant" versions with which to offend and educate their long-suffering publics.
Franz Castorf's version, which premiered in Hamburg in 1997 included a scene in which gas rising from the stage chokes the performers to death (the programme notes helpfully explained that "gas" can also mean "fun" in English). Hans Neuenfels outraged the audience at the Salzburg Festival in 2003 by moving the plot from 1870s Vienna to the period of "Austro-fascism" in the early 1930s, complete with drug addiction, homosexuality, paramilitaries sporting arm-bands. A minimalist production by Michael Thalheimer at the Deutsches Theater in Berlin four years later almost did away with the music altogether, or at least with the orchestra.
David Womersley shines a light on some of the less cuddly features of the man who became the nation's teddy-bear: Betjeman's England - John Betjeman
Betjeman's England
by John Betjeman; edited by Stephen Games.
Pp. xvi + 304. London: John Murray, 2009
Hardback, £18.99
The bronze statue of Betjeman at St. Pancras marks his current status as the patron saint of an architectural heritage which, in the decades following the Second World War, was threatened by an apparently unstoppable modernist consensus. This collection of scripts for radio and television programmes, reinforced with some ancillary documents and letters, come from the years when Betjeman was waging war against the new barbarians.
The dominant tone of the collection is that of elegy, as in this moment from a 1969 television programme on seaside resorts of the south coast (p. 63):
The Royal National Hospital for Diseases of the Chest, built just west of Ventnor in 1868 – empty, now that they’ve found other cures for consumption. How many a pale face looked its last out of these windows? How many prayers were offered for sufferers? How many prayers were made by suffering patients? Echoes of weak coughs along deserted corridors. Empty."Other cures for consumption" is a curious phrase, when what is meant are cures which were actually effective, rather than the futile palliatives of the Victorian period. But the phrase is a revealing touch, for time and again in these scripts we find Betjeman both deploring the improvements as well as the desecrations of progress, and yet also relishing the desertion and deterioration they left in their wake. What would Betjeman have made of what has become his shrine, namely the restored St. Pancras? On the showing of these scripts, he preferred his Victorianism decayed, not refurbished.
David Womersley asks, has Sebastian Faulks plagiarised Joni Mitchell? And was it deliberate or unconscious? A Week in December - Sebastian Faulks
A Week in December
by Sebastian Faulks
Pp. 392. London: Hutchinson, 2009
Hardback, £18.99
Towards the end of A Week in December there is a very curious moment. Hassan al-Rashid, a radicalized British muslim, is on his way to take part in a co-ordinated series of suicide bombings on a London hospital. Sitting on the Tube, he is suddenly struck by an aspect of his own posture (p. 368):
He had shaved in order to look less threatening and he held his right hand firmly in his left. What could that hand desire, he thought, that he gripped it so tight?Ring any bells? To people of my (and, I guess, Sebastian Faulks's) generation who listened to West Coast music, the words of Hassan's question unmistakably bring to mind a Joni Mitchell lyric. In "Edith and the Kingpin", a track on The Hissing of Summer Lawns about an encounter between a businessman and a woman he picks up, Mitchell sings of the businessman:
What does that hand desireAllusion or plagiarism? Hassan has been raised in a Westernized milieu, it's true; but there is no prior mention in the novel to suggest that he nurses an enthusiasm for 1970s Californian rock. It seems unlikely, then, that this echo of Mitchell's lyric is to be taken as a stroke of characterization; as, that is, an implicit revelation of how saturated Hassan's mind has become with Western culture.
That he grips it so tight?
We are driven therefore to the possibility of plagiarism, and the question then arises: deliberate or unconscious? Is this a case of deliberate passing-off, or is it, more innocently, just an instance of an arresting phrase from long ago rising to the surface? And does it matter? I'll come back to these questions.
David Womersley considers if drinking wine is fundamentally different from drinking anything else: I Drink Therefore I Am: A Philosopher's Guide to Wine - Roger Scruton
I Drink Therefore I Am: A Philosopher's Guide to Wine
by Roger Scruton
Pp. 212. London: Continuum, 2009
Hardback, £16.99
In the early 1980s Roger Scruton wrote occasional columns for The Times, one of which developed a not entirely serious (but also far from entirely frivolous) argument extolling the intellectual and academic benefits of drinking wine. By thoroughly familiarising yourself with, say, white Burgundy, you could, for example, acquire a great deal of curious information about history, geography, chemistry, whatever. I remember finding it a very attractive argument, part of its attractiveness being that it was far from conclusive, and so whether or not one agreed with it was, rather courteously, not a matter of coercion on Scruton's part.
But the serious point which underlay the deliberate lightness of treatment was the insight that it is a mistake to view wine as merely a drug. Surrounded as we are by intrusive health "advice" (a.k.a. outrageous and contradictory bullying) which lumps alcohol in with nicotine, ecstasy, marihuana, and heroin, and which is uninterested in differentiating wine from, say, industrial vodka, we sorely need to be reminded of the special place that wine occupies in our civilization, and of the contribution it has made to that civilization. Scruton's new book is an often witty, sometimes moving, exploration of this timely theme.
The book is divided into two parts. The first is a memoir, a kind of Biographia Vinosa, in which Scruton relates how his interest in wine was awakened, and how he came to understand that it was more than just another alcoholic drink. In his case the decisive wine was Château Trotanoy 1945; and we can surely all agree that he fell by a noble hand. But Scruton is also candid about how particular wines have assisted at and with particular turning points in his life. The most crucial of these involved his renunciation of an earlier choice of character, when he was "an arrogant outcast in a university whose name I disgraced", and his assumption of the more modest persona of "a contrite and undistinguished follower of foxhounds" (p. 26). The moment of conversion was graced and facilitated by a fabulous and memorable wine, Château Lafite 1945, "the greatest year from the greatest of clarets" ((p. 27):
Not only was it priceless and irreplaceable, so that pulling the cork was a final goodbye to a mistaken path. It also prompted me to order and unfold my thoughts, to take things gently and in proper sequence, to look back over failure in a spirit of forgiveness and to face to the future with no thought of success.
Theodore Dalrymple recommends taking your holiday at an airport hotel - so long as you don't switch on the television
Theodore Dalrymple finds joy in airport hotels.
Taking an early flight recently from a distant airport, I had occasion to stay overnight in an airport hotel next to the airport; but, with the incompetence I have come to expect of myself, I mistook the day of my flight and arrived twenty-four hours early. This meant that I would have to (or at any rate might just as well) spend two nights in the airport hotel.
Touching down several thousand miles away, I learnt that the weather at my final destination was so bad that I could not take the connecting flight and would therefore have to stay overnight in the airport hotel. That made three nights in succession spent in airport hotels.
By now, I have stayed in such hotels all over the world and they are much the same wherever they are. Had there been a world government to ensure uniformity throughout the world, its work, at least with respect to airport hotels, could not have been done better. Of course, their uniformity is part of what makes these hotels so reassuring.
The décor is antiseptic and easily kept that way; there is something Scandinavian about them all, as if there were birch woods and lakes outside. The staff are smiling and polite in a Pavlovian kind of way; one imagines that an electric shock comes up through the floor if they fail to smile or tell customers what they really think of them. As for the food, it combines exotic names with complete blandness, and is sent up from some subterranean central kitchen that provides all the airport hotels of the world.
A Europhile becomes disillusioned: Brendan Simms on why Mr Van Rompuy and Baroness Ashton are not up to meeting the threats facing the West
The West needs stronger leaders than Mr Van Rompuy and Baroness Ashton - or for that matter Barack Obama, Gordon Brown, Nicolas Sarkozy, and Angela Merkel - if it is to deal with the threats facing us all, argues Brendan Simms.
"And nobody is afraid of her; that is a great charm." Jane Austen, Emma, Chapter 10"For Europe, this a moment of truth. Europe has to answer a decisive question. Do we want to lead…or will we leave the initiative to others and accept an outcome shaped by them? The alternatives are clear. A start choice has to be made. Either Europeans accept to face this challenge together- or else we slide towards irrelevance."
Jose Manuel Barroso, President of the European Commission, September 2009
It has been tragically and rightly said of the Palestinians that they "never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity". Sadly, the same is true of "Europe". It failed to use the threat of Soviet aggression during the cold war to forge a closer and mighty union. With the collapse of the European Defence Community in 1954, wrecked by the French parliament, the processes of economic and security integration diverged fatally, leading to two separate organisations: the EEC and NATO. In the 1990s, Europe missed the chance to wage the struggle against ethnic cleansing in the Balkans as a War of European unification. More recently, Europeans have struggled to agree an effective response not only to Saddam Hussein but also to the resurgence of the Taliban in Afghanistan.
Now we have the appointment of Mr van Rompuy as president of the European Council, a new post created by the Lisbon Treaty. I have nothing against Mr van Rompuy, or Ms Ashton, but they are both obscure compromise candidates who lack authority on the world stage. The former US National Security advisor and Secretary of State, Henry Kissinger, surely had something else in mind when he famously asked which number he should ring for "Europe".
Choosing Mr Rompuy over the much-discussed and incomparably more dynamic Tony Blair, and Ms Ashton over Peter Mandelson, sends an unmistakable signal that it is business as usual at the European Union. For all his federalist enthusiasms Mr van Rompuy, in particular, is unlikely to push forward the vital military reforms needed to make Europe a factor to be reckoned with globally. As Belgian prime minister he cut the military budget to a record low: the Russians are hardly quaking in their boots.
Europe has made the choice which the President of the Commission, Mr Barroso, demanded in September, and it has chosen irrelevance. Valery Giscard d'Estaing, the former French President, beheld the results and bewailed the "limited ambition for Europe". It was a far cry from the heady days when he had launched the European constitutional convention and told the putative founding fathers that they would be immortalised by "statues of you on horseback in the village you all come from".
Workshops and why you must avoid them - or so says Theodore Dalrymple
Workshops are a pathology that spreads like bacteria on agar gel - argues Theodore Dalrymple.
Kingsley Amis, a man whom, for reasons neither interesting nor publishable, I did not much admire, once said that the word "workshop" summed up all that was wrong with the modern world. He was right, and his comment was both shrewd and prescient. Courses, conferences, away-days, workshops, team-building weekends - they're all part of the same pathology, and they've spread like bacteria on agar gel.
With a regularity bordering on the boring, from many sources, I receive flyers offering me courses to improve myself. I am far from supposing that I cannot improve or be improved, but most of these courses seem more designed to relieve me of money than anything else. They come with pictures of the course leaders (or trainers), happy and smiling and, to my eyes at least, deeply crooked.
A learned journal to which I subscribe always arrives with invitations to courses and conferences. Some, naturally, are of interest: those given by people who are acknowledged experts in their field, and who will provide a convenient digest of the latest research in it. But a high proportion of them are about what one might call para-work: activity that has nothing, or something only very tangential, to do with the ostensible aims of one's profession.
Apologies and Letters: Theodore Dalrymple explains why he feels sorry for Gordon Brown
Theodore Dalrymple is overcome with sympathy for the Prime Minister.
No one, I think, would take me for an admirer of Gordon Brown, much less an apologist for him; but in the matter of the letter that he wrote to Mrs Janes, mother of the soldier killed in Afghanistan, I feel sorry for him. He has become a victim of the ideological sentimentality so assiduously promoted by his odious predecessor, and now so fully a part of our national character.
The letter he wrote to Mrs Janes seemed to me a perfectly decent one. It was legible (perhaps, as a doctor, my standards of legibility are low); the sentiments expressed are decent, conventional ones, without the kind of extravagance that might lead you to suspect insincerity.
The offence of the mistake in the name - Mrs James instead of Mrs Janes - does not seem to me a hanging one. Mr Brown is a very busy man (would that he were less busy!) and the mistake is one that we could surely all envisage ourselves making, given the relative frequency of the two names.
The grief of Mrs Janes was perfectly understandable, of course; the loss of a child is like the loss of a world. But grief is not necessarily the midwife of truth, and some of the things that Mrs Janes said are simply not true. Surely only someone determined in advance to find the letter disrespectful would have found it so; one might even think that a hand-written letter from the Prime Minister was a sign of respect, when he could so easily have written nothing or have ordered someone else to do it on his behalf.
No he won't - Brendan Simms on how Barack Obama has reneged on his election promises
Barack Obama, in terms of his foreign policy, has not lived up to the hopes many invested in him at the time of his election - argues Brendan Simms, Professor in the History of International Relations at the University of Cambridge.
It wasn't meant to be like this. Barack Obama was elected just over a year ago amid near-universal expectations of a fresh start in US foreign policy. His supporters looked forward to a new drive on Palestine, where a more "even-handed" approach (code for putting pressure on Israel) would re-energise the peace process; a process of "engagement" with Iran; and a "new chapter" in its relationship with the world more generally.
Those who felt that the Bush years had brought "humanitarian intervention" into disrepute, hoped for greater emphasis on Tibet and Darfur. After all, the President-elect's team included many genuine interventionists such as Tony Lake, Bill Clinton's first national security advisor, and Samantha Power, author of the famous book on Genocide (A Problem from Hell: America and the Age of Genocide), and - at least until a disastrous speech attacking Hillary Clinton as a "monster" - widely tipped as new National Security Advisor.
In particular, Obama had promised a more robust policy in Afghanistan, which his campaign defined as a war which the United States and its allies could not afford to lose. Even critics, such as this author, believed that he would wind down the unpopular campaign in Iraq, rally Americans behind the "good war" there, parlay his undoubted popularity among Europeans into concrete troop commitments which had eluded Bush, and "get real" with Pakistan, whose military establishment continued to see the Taliban as potential allies against India. The announcement that Richard Holbrooke, the "bruiser" who had knocked heads together in the Balkans in the 1990s, would lead a new drive in Afghanistan, only strengthened this impression.
A year on, and the President has clearly lost his way. Some of the disappointments were inevitable, and were the product of absurdly high expectations for which he cannot be blamed. Health-care reform, for example, is a notoriously tricky issue over which many have come to grief in the past. Likewise, nobody should blame Mr Obama for his failure - so far - to make any headway over the Middle East peace process.
What unsettles friends and sceptics is his complete inability to get to grips with Afghanistan.

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