A racing certainty

A Facebook posting by a friend of mine led me to a video of comedian David Mitchell making the case for climate change. He argues that, unless the sceptics can prove climate change won’t happen, then, even if the odds that it will happen are small, it is incumbent on us to do something about it, especially given that the consequences will be that the planet becomes uninhabitable.

There are a couple of flaws in this argument, as some of the comments on his posting point out. Firstly, the statement that the planet will become uninhabitable is probably an overstatement – more about that later. More importantly, the argument ignores the question of balance of risk. Our children face many lethal hazards when they leave home every day but we don’t lock them up because the low odds of them coming to harm are outweighed by the positive benefits – in terms of school, recreation and so on. The risk/ gain ration would be massively altered if there was a flood or a nuclear accident but, in normal circumstances, the balance is in favour of letting them out, terrible and all as the prospect of them coming to harm might be.

The biggest reason, though, why this argument is flawed is that the odds of climate change coming to pass are not, in fact, low. Rather, climate change is a racing certainty and the sceptics are simply in denial. And, while it may not make the planet uninhabitable (though that is not an impossibility), it will certainly make large parts of it inhospitable, with huge political and socio-economic consequences. Moreover, it could easily lead to societal collapse of the kind seen in Europe after the fall of the Roman Empire or the collapse of the Khmer empire in Cambodia.

What is frightening too about such societal collapse is that, where it has happened in the past, it has often been relatively sudden. It is not typically a gradual process but can come bout in much less time than the life span of an average human being. Now, with society so globally interconnected, such a collapse would be global, rather than regional as previous ones were. The consequences would be mass poverty, high rates of illness and mortality, and increased levels of human conflict.

Those in denial (sceptics is too kind a word) cling to points of detail where there is still uncertainty – just as those who deny evolution point to the relatively inconsequential points of detail where we now know that Darwin got it wrong. In this regard, the believers in climate change need to be careful not to “talk it up” and not to ascribe every weather abnormality to it. It is far too soon to say, for instance, whether the shortage of snow on Switzerland’s ski slopes last winter was due to climate change or was just a fluke.

However, David Mitchell also has another post that is a much better – and more honest – treatment of the issue. He says that the advocates of climate change have a much less appealing message to sell. Who wants to hear “Eat less meat, recycle more, drive a smaller car, travel less by air” when, as Mitchell puts it, Jeremy Clarkson is saying “Let’s drive to the North Pole in a 4 x 4 while drinking gin”. I know I don’t.  It’s much easier to believe that climate change isn’t going to happen, just as those who argue that the third world should sort itself out always fing plenty of people to agree with them.

Still, just as the salad (boring!) is better for my health than the 10 oz steak (yum!), the litre of beer (yum!) or the wedge of chocolate cake (yum!), so in the case of climate change the unpleasant message is the correct one. I am just not sure that, as humans, we are capable of grasping this. I shudder to think what will happen if we don’t.

Great movies

I wrote last week about the novel, We need to talk about Kevin. I had read the book anticipating the movie, which stars Tilda Swinton.

I'd been won over to Tilda Swinton by her performance in Michael Clayton. That was a complete revelation to me. A routine legal thriller was raised to art-cinema level by the performance of Ms Swinton (who won an Oscar) and Tom Wilkinson (who was nominated but didn't win). So, as I said, when I heard that she was starring as Eva, the mother, in Kevin, I was determined to see it. I mightn't even have read the book otherwise.

The movie wasn't what I expected. I suppose that, with a mainstream, bestseller novel, I would have expected an average Hollywood effort - creditably done (as Clayton was) but not standing out from the crowd. However, under the stewardship of British Director Lynne Ramsay we got something really memorable. Magdalena, sitting next to me, remarked on the similarity to Kieslowski's visual, nervy, tension-generating style.

The novel is pared right down for adaptation to the screen. A lot of the nuances in Eva's character that I described in my previous post are lost in the transfer - her intellectual snobbery and her mourning over the loss of her career - are played down or lost entirely. So too is Kevin's school behaviour - we see him operating largely in the family setting. However, the bare essentials are there - above all Eva's loneliness and isolation (both before and after Kevin's heinous act) and the incomprehensible monstrosity of Kevin himself. The effect is heightened by superb choice of American classic pop, and country-and-western, songs - especially poignant is the way the song Nobody's Child is used towards the end of the movie. And I like the way the "wrap up" - which I found pat and unconvincing in the book - is cleverly understated, leaving the viewer to draw her own conclusions. So, overall, this is an immensely satisfying - if disturbing - movie to watch and a textbook example of "cutting edge" film-making. It's not surprising that Shriver herself likes the adaptation: a good adaptation should challenge the author herself but win his or her admiration at the same time.

The following day we went to see Polisse, at the Astor film lounge. To start with, I have to say to those living in the Geneva area that this is a whole new cinema experience that perits payment of a few extra francs. We went to an afternoon show and were treated to a free cocktail, reclining seats (with a lace for our glasses, of course) and blankets to cover our nether quarters. Unless you are fortunate enough to have a home cinema in you bedroom, this is the ultimate luxury.

The quality of the movie matched the luxury of the venue. If you imagine The Wire transferred to a Paris setting, and focusing solely on the unit that deals with protection of minors, then you get the idea. The actual cases that the police officers deal with are not central to the plot but rather merely the backdrop. Instead, the story focuses on the lives of the police officers themselves. They work hard and are clearly affected by the harrowing nature of their jobs; by and large their personal lives are a mess. However, what is uplifting about the movie is that they are still strong people with an immense capacity for relishing the joy of the moment. For me, one of the key scenes comes when, having achieved a safe outcome to a very harrowing case where a baby could have died, there is a release of tension and they all go clubbing. This leads to a superb sequence on the dance floor.

Still, it's not a light subject and we are reminded of how under-resourced these people are relative to the job they have to do: the scenes where we see an officer sitting at a desk in front of shelves and shelves of confiscated computer hard drives reminds us of the scale of the problem. The ending is superbly crafted - delivering a note of hope and a kick inn ths stomach at the same time. It's directed by the lovely Maiwen, who also stars.Watch it!

We need to talk about Eva

I have just finished reading Lionel Shriver's We need to talk about Kevin, as millions of other had done long and ever ago. In fact, my daughter had been recommending it for months and I only finally decided to read it because the film has opened in Switzerland and I want to go and see it (I'm a big fan of Tilda Swinton and I would watch her in anything).

The fact that I'm taking the trouble to write about it indicates that it did make an impression on me.It's certainly easy to read and hard to put down - you are wondering, with a sense of foreboding, what is going to happen next. Moreover, even though you know from the outset that the emponymous character has killed seven students and two adults in his school, there is a surprise in store which adds to the shock). I expect that, with the cast that was chosen, it has also make a great film;indeed  this is what nearly all of the critics are saying.

Equally, though, I wouldn't be taking the trouble to write this if I didn't have a few misgivings. These are nothing to do with the issues that have generated public controversy around the book - the exploitation of the high school killings phenomenon in the USA, or the questioning of maternal instincts. Both of these I regard as valid subjects for an author to explore - esepacially the latter.

My first problem is with Kevin himself. Through most of the book he is just obnoxious. You want to smash his face in and you are, at the same time, wondering whether or not, if he was your child, you would love him in spite of all. As he grows older he becomes sharper and more perceptive and this blunts his repellent nature, making him slightly fascinating in an evil sort of way. You come to repsect him as being, in many ways, the most perceptive character in the book. It's one thing for Thomas Harris to create a fascinating villain in Hannibal the Cannibal; however in Shriver's chosen genre with its more serious prevailing themes this is a questionable distraction. More importantly, for a novel like this to work on the highest level, it shouldn't answer the question: "would you love him if he was your child?" The best fiction poses questions you might not have thought of answering but doesn't try to provide easy answers. Shriver loses her nerve at the very end and tries to answer this question in a manner that is thrite unconvincing either in terms the mother's character, or Kevin himself.

The second problem is the father, Franklin. As one reviewer put it, you might regard the mother's character - a successful writer and businesswoman trying to square these roles with motherhood - as a cliché but her husband is certainly one. Despite the fact that he obviously handsome, warm and - in certain senses only - caring, he is ultimately a bumptious fool and Eva's affection for him is unconvincing. Perhaps an American readership would sypmathise more with his chunky manliness and his folksy conservatism but I suspect that the very Americans who would be drawn to read the book would sneer at these qualities just as much as I feel inclined to do. When I say he is a cliché, it is because he ticks all the boxes and it is too easy to dislike him - he is even Republican, for God's sake. A bumptious Democrat or a sympathetic Republican (if the latter is not an oxymoron) would create a more interessting conflict for the reader.

My third problem is with the mother herself, Eva. In this case, though, I am almost certainly reacting the way Shriver intended; if so it is a positive reflection on her writing style and the problem lies with me. I have seen her described as "unsympathetic" but this is an over-simplification. I do sypmathise with many of her trevails - her despair at Kevin's behaviour, the lack of sympathy and understanding from Franklin and so on. So I can forgive her whining tone at times. Nevertheless, while "unsympathetic" may be an overstatement, she is certainly not likeable. She is a sardonic, conteptuous intellectual snob. I found myself shocked by the scene where she writes about a visit to Franklin's parents that took place after the high school killings. Within their limitations, the couple are obviously kind, homely people but writes about them in viciously sneering tones. She describes their spick-and-span house that they have laboured on lovingly over the years but mocks their intellectiual limitations (noting the presence of a state-of-the art sound system with nothing to play on it except Classics' Greatest Hits, for example).

Why I think that we are meant to see her this way is because Kevin sees her this way too. In one really excellent scene when she takes him out to dinner he lets her launch into a tirade about America which he then deconstructs piece by piece before asking her what makes her think she has the right to feel so superior. The problem, though, is that the treatment of her character distracts the reader from consideration fo Kevin himself. I suspect that Shriver is leaving us to wonder whether the latter is the result of nature or nurture but I am not sure if this works - Eva has simply too much baggage.

On a personal note, the other reason I had a problem with Eva was that I saw in her elements of myself. I have often, when visiting other people's homes, sized up their book and music collection and said "hmmph!". My only excuse is that, unlike Eva, I would usually refrain from articulating that sentiment out loud unless there was some other reason for disliking the people in question. Nevertheless,even though it was uncomfortable to have the sentiments being articulated with such venom by someone else I identified with her intellectual snobbery. It was almost like looking in the mirror and it wasn't pretty.

I will try to learn from the lesson!

The Wall Street Rag

Even at the hight of the scandal over the phonetapping by the News of the World, Murdoch had plenty of apologists in the media. Essentially, the defence was: well, yest, the News of the World and the Sun are tacky but they bankroll Murdoch's real passion, the so-called "serious newspapers, such as the Times and the Sunday Times in the UK, and - in the US - what one commentator characterised as the "über-respectable" Wall Street Journal.

The Times and the Sunday Times can only be considered as serious when compared to their tacky cousins but not when compared to the Guardian, the Observer, the Independent, the Independent on Sunday, the Daily Telegraph or the Sunday Telegraph. Note that I am not making a poitical point here - the Telegraph newspapers, whatever I think of their politics, are serious publications and can claim credit, among other things, for the exposure of the MPs' expenses scandal.

Irish commentators (such as Eoin Harris, writing in an Irish rag called the Sunday Independent) have cited the Sunday Times' pursuit of IRA men, who were masquerading as respectible members of the community, as an example of its courage. While the paper deserves some credit for this, given the high risk of a successful libel action in the Irish courts, it hardly counts as "taking on the establishment" in the way that the Telegraph did over MPs' expenses. Those of us who remember the Sunday Times in its pre-Murdoch days will remember a newspaper that showed real courage - one of the few, for eaxample in the UK that was prepared, in 1972, to challenge the Government's lies over the paratroopers' massacre of 14 innocent civilians in Derry.

However, even those papers are heavyweights when compared to the Wall Street Journal. I have been foreced, on rare occasions, to read the WSJ, usually when I am traveling on a plane and have run out of other things to read. How anyone can consider is as a serious newspaper is more than I know. It is flimsy and light - with only a few pages of real news content. What it does have is a strident, megaphone-style editorial tone. This is the newspaper that blamed 9-11 on Clinton's "Munich-like appeasement" of Yasser Arafat. This is the paper that was a cheerleader for Bush's invasion of Iraq. Essentially, it is just Fox News for people who can read; it pedals the same rabble-rousing, divisive editorial line and is just as economical with the truth.

I am not surprised, therefore, to see the WSJ in Europe now being accused of a scam to boost its circulation figures in order to enhance advertising; it is all I would have expected from that rag.

In the end, the WSJ is just another manifestation of Murdoch's shabby, grubby personality. The late Auberon Waugh (no left-winger, by any means!) put it perfectly when he described the man as "that prurient (by which I mean 'dirty', 'itchy-bottomed') Australian-American."

A blinkered view of WWII

I recall that, when I was still living in Ireland, I received a call today from a volunteer working for one of my local TDs (members of parliament). It was 2007; the second Gulf war was in full flight, and Ireland (controversially) was allowing Shannon Airport to be used as a stopover for US military planes going to the Gulf. I took the opportunity, therefore, to ask the volunteer about the TD's stance on the use of Shannon for stopovers of US military flights to Iraq.

 

His response was that he did not know the TD's views on this issue but that, for his part, he supported the use of Shannon for this purpose. America was trying to bring peace to the Middle East and, furthermore, we owed them a debt for their intervention in the Second World War.

In contrast to that time, very few people are willing to put their head above the parapet now and assert that the invasion of Iraq was a good idea, so there is no need to pursue that "canard" any further. However, the second assertion by the caller is potentially a much more pernicious one and one that is still widely believed. Shortly before that call, a successful Irish busniessman being interviewed on Irish radio spoke of his high regard for America, asserting that they had "saved us in two world wars" (of course, the said busnessman had strong business interest in America, which my have subconsciously encouraged him to see things this way). More importantly, many commentators have cited Tony Blair's belief that Britain and Europe owed America a debt as motivating his unquestioning support for the United States after 9/11 and through the Gulf War. If that is  the case, then it is typical of the shallow-minded priggishness of the man that he can be swayed by such a gross over-simplification.

 

We owe America a debt for many reasons and the last thing I wish to do is to say anything that might seem like a debunking of their contribution to our culture and civilisation. Morevoer, nobody questions the fact that young American men showed extroardinary courage - and endured terrible suffering - on Omaha Beach, in the Ardennes, at Midway, Guadalcanal, Iwo Jima and elsewhere.  However, when their contribution to World War Two is sentimentalised for the sake of questionable propaganda, this only serves to cheapen their real achievements and insult others whose contribution was as great or greater. Conseqently, here are a few facts that put America's real contribution into a wider perspective.

 

1. America did not intervene initially in World War Two of its own initiative. While Roosevelt was certainly sypathetic to the Allied cause - for the highest of motives - there was insufficient support nationally for a unilateral intervention. Ultimately, America was forced into the war - firstly by the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour and subsequent declaration of war and secondly by Hitler's declaration of war on it (perhaps the worst mistake he ever made).

 

2. The Germans themselves acknowledge that they lost the war on the Eastern front in a campaign that cost over 20  million Russian lives, mostly civilian. Just to put this in perspective, the Russian casualties at the battle of Moscow - by no means the bloodiest battle of the campaign - were more than the total American and British losses for the entire war. 

 

3. America derived huge economic profit from the war, while virtually all the other protagonists finished worse off.

 

4. The American Civil War - in which the citizens of that country fought one another - remains by far the bloodiest conflict in American history, World War Two and Viet Nam not excepted.

 

I repeat that we still have reason to be grateful for America's intervention. Apart from their contribution of combat forces, their material aid to the Russians was crucial. Both then and after the war, while it could be argued that they acted out of self interest, it was enlightened self interest - which is more than can be said for the present administration. But to suspend criticism of their current policies on the basis of a simplistic and - quite frankly - dewy-eyed perception of their role in World War Two is just intellectual laziness.

 

Hands across the Danube

Having visited Prague and Cracow, Budapest was the next "must-see" for me. Finally, I got there last week for a meeting utside the city centre. I didn't have much free time to see the city but I made the best use of what time I had.

As everyone knws, the city was originally two separate towns: Buda, in the west, set on the hills overlooking the Danube, and Pest, on the flat ground east of the Danube. Buda is undobtedly the more picturesque part, bearing some resemblance to Prague's Castle Hill, though there are several hills, in fact, and none of them are as grand. It is the part with the most greenery; it is better preserved and it is also by far the wealthier half of the city. The old town of Buda, in particular, is especially beautiful.

In Pest, most of the outstanding landmarks - the Opera House, the huge Parliament building and so on - date from the nineteenth century, when Hungary was combined with Austria in a dual monarchy (which failed to sastify Hungarian nationalist aspirations). I must say, I found these buildings less appealing, being somewhat pompous and overly ornate but the central market is spectacular. 

This was also the period when the first and most of the subseqent magnificent bridges were built, the first being the Széchenyi Chain Bridge, designed by British Engineer William Tierney Clarke.Indeed, it is the river and its crossings that dominate one's impression of the city. Unlike Vienna, where the Danube loops around the city centre, in Budapest it cuts straight through it. Bridging a river of that size was quite an engineering feat and it's not surprising that it wasn't achieved until the nineteenth century.
 

Everywhere the scars of World War II and its aftermath are apparent, but especially so in Pest, where old buildings intermingle with modern blocks and where there are still many derelict buildings. Hungary was a German ally at that time; not the proudest moment in its history but the Hungarians were justifiably aggrieved at losing two-thirds of territory after the First World War. The city suffered extensive damage in WWII: first from British and American air raids; afterwards from the ground battles between Soviet, German and Hungarian troops. The bridges were destroyed by the retreating Germans and took decades to rebuild. In the meantime, of course, there was the 1956 rebellion, which was brutally suppressed by the Russians; many buildings still exhibit the bullet holes from this time. As a result of all of this, Pest lacks the integrity of style that one sees in downtown Prague or Cracow - and, to a large extent, even in old Buda.

Of course, another asset of the city is the vast supply of thermal water, and the associated baths, which came into vogue during the Turckish occupation. The most famous ones are the neo-baroque Széchenyi baths (which I visited) and the art nouveau Gellert baths, both of which were built in the early twentieth century.

I must say, the food was one of the pleasant surprises. Okay, the Hungarians aren't huge on vegetables but they do lots of exciting soups and stews and often combine fruit with savoury flavours in exciting ways. It was the game season while I was there and I had a magnificent venison ragout. And their cakes seem to combine the best of Austrian and Polish traditions. As for the drink, well I knew the wine would be good but the beer was excellent as well.

So, to sum up, it wasn't Prague or Cracow but it was well worth the trip.

And did I mention that the people are lovely?

The game season

Last Saturday being my birthday, we went out for dinner in a restaurant just this side of the French border. On arrival, the first thing we saw was a huge banner saying "La chasse est ouverte". Yes, it's that time of the year when you can gorge on pheasant, partridge, hare, venison, wild boar and other delights of the hunting season. Switzerland takes this very seriously and all the restaurants (at least the ones that serve European food and that aren't vegetarian) advertise this season on their menu boards.

I like autumn food in general; the berries, the root vegetables but especially the game. It has such a rich taste; one that lends itself also to delicious sauces. I recall once in Brussels being served a plate with two saddles of hare; one in a cream sauce and one in a red wine sauce with the contrasting coulours meeting along a straight line down the middle of the plate. This week I am in Hungary where the passion for game is, if anything, even stronger.

My efforts with cooking game have been mixed. It's easy to overcook it and, because it is so lean, it can also be too dry - especially if not adequately marinaded. I find it easiest to casserole it, allowing the rich flavours of the meat (and bones) to permeate the cooking liquid. I should say, it goes very well with sweet condiments - redcurrant or cranberry jelly or sauce, fries apple, apple sauce, etc. Red cabbage with apple is an excellent side-dish (and that's easy to cook).

Is it healthy? Very! It's the leanest red meat there is. Is it sustainable? Well, it wouldn't feed the planet é not by a long way! In fact, it wouldn't even feed Switzerland. However, it is chemical free and probably has the lowest footprint of any kind of meat. Essentially, if it's treated as a treat to be indulged in occasionally it's perfectly sustainable.