What happened

Oh, you know the drill. Boy meets girl. Boy marries girl. Boy becomes Principal of Brasenose. Boy and girl use College expenses money in what, it is alleged, were unauthorised expenditures. It’s an expenses scandal of the classic kind. Principal Roger Cashmore and his wife went to Greece, North America and Pakistan. All the while, the story goes, they were charging BNC fee-payers for upgraded Business Class travel. In one case, according to a Brasenose report, ‘authorisation was expressly denied but the trip went ahead regardless’. Cashmore obviously denies this. He claims that he was not not granted authorisation, if you get my drift. This wily donnish manouevring didn’t work: the governors of Brasenose appear to have sacked Prof. Cashmore in an attempt to restore their credibility. That’s not the line. The line is he’s gone on research leave. It’s research leave which involves taking up two salaried positions, but they don’t want me to tell you that.

What the papers said

Many of the papers focussed on Lib Dem confusion, largely because they hate the Lib Dems. But the general Fleet Street consensus is to raise tuition fees to unlimited levels. The FT thought Browne was brilliant. The Telegraph thought it was brilliant. The Times was a little bit sceptical but, of course, ‘there is no better option on offer’. Even the Guardian and Independent are basically in favour. Remarkably, the Daily Mail is the most opposed- though only because ‘yet again, the middle classes will suffer’. Thoughtful.

What now?

You can splutter with rage all you like, but it’s unlikely to make a difference. If Labour and a solid chunk of Lib Dems vote against- neither a certainty- then the bill can be defeated. But Lib Dems in government are bound to back it, and that might be enough, regardless of what the backbenchers do. But your little brothers and sisters are likely to have to pay through the nose for an education. Arts degrees will be restricted to elite institutions. The humanities may face a serious possibility of destruction. And all the while, many universities will be privatised (the other place is already considering it). It will be pretty dire, and likely undo most of the good access work done by many JCRs and institutions. Of course, there is another problem that lies earlier on, in low-quality schooling and children being brought up in poverty. Butwhile Browne may be symptomatic of a deeper problem in our society, it’s worth standing up against its regressive implications for education.

It has been said that politics is sex for ugly people or high-functioning sociopaths. On an unrelated note, I volunteered for the Ed Miliband leadership campaign, originally out of curiosity and because two of my friends were doing it. I found myself becoming a passionate supporter of Miliband and someone with great hopes for Labour and all politics, if only every party can tap into the energy and optimism of the student voter.

And this was a campaign, to quote one of the handmade banners, ‘Powered by People’, with ‘Ed’ surrounded by pink paper hearts – to which, various unkind middle aged people said things along the lines of “Remember 1997” and “You’re young, but as you age and wither you’ll become a cold, pessimistic husk.” But those people are over 30 and comment on newspaper websites, so they can be safely ignored. The people behind the Miliband campaign were a mixed bunch, with the volunteer HQ commanded by two redoubtable and supremely able young women, and staffed by a rotating band of even younger volunteers; some just getting A-level results, some just finishing PhDs, some students like us; people of all ages, from young teenagers to Pakistani businessmen to Australian Labor expats. It really was inspiring.

While there was the data entry, and the calling around to shark up audiences for Q&A sessions, the best part of the process was the phone banking. Every time, there would be so many of us that some of us would need to use our own mobiles. We would phone people, Voter ID them, try and convince them, try and wrangle out a second preference, or simply get ranted at. The rants could be the most fun, as many Labour members seem to be retired men with strong opinions – “What’s he going to do about what Thatcher did to the Unions?” or very patient elderly women who would take in the whole pitch and promise you that it hadn’t made any of difference to their opinion and that “they’d read the literature”. I never spoke to anyone who was abusive or unkind– and, if someone calls you and asks “Can I ask how you’ll be voting?” and you say “Yes,” and there’s a silence, and the person asks “So, how are you voting?” it isn’t funny to say “I said you could ask!” Seriously, do you honestly think you’re the first human being to come up with that? But every now and then you would get a firm Ed supporter, or an Andy, Diane or Balls-ite who happily engaged in discussion and promised a second preference. Less often, but most rewarding, were those who didn’t know and who had lost faith in Labour, who would finish the call with a promise to vote Ed and bit more cheerful as well. “I still don’t know,” one woman told me, “But it’s wonderful to hear all you young people are getting involved. You’ve given me a bit more hope in the party.” One word, though, to those who decide to campaign in this way: don’t make ironic and hyperbolic jokes about political parties to people who actually work for them. And make sure you grab several slices of pizza, because collectivism is suspended when eighty hungry social democrats are faced with free Dominos.

For a guy who spent his teens in and out of ‘approved school’ and prison, Benjamin Zephaniah is almost absurdly respectable these days. The Brummie born 50-year-old rastafarian is now one of Britain’s most prolific black poets, writers and social commentators. In fact, Dr Zephaniah – which his 13 honorary doctorates entitle him to – would be an ideal candidate for Mayor of London. So, why doesn’t he get into politics?

Talking to me from his London office, he laughs at the suggestion. “People always ask me that,” he says. “The problem is: that’s not what I’m about. This may sound a bit wishy washy, but I want to bring the political, the spiritual and the emotional together.” For Zephaniah, poetry is his politics; and more importantly he thinks mainstream government is “bullshit”.

His favourite poem, he tells me, is by Adrian Mitchell and reads, “People ignore most poetry, because most poetry ignores most people.” We could substitute poetry for politics, he explains. “Politics does ignore people. Politicians talk down to you for four years and then come the election they want to be your friend.” He points out that Brown’s ‘bigoted women’ gaffe in Rochdale just goes to show how little the parliamentarian big shots actually care.

“My kind of involvement in politics – demonstrating, standing up and demanding something to be done – people often call being a militant. But we can’t just be political how and when politicians want us to be.”
Zephaniah doesn’t just pay lip service to this ‘fight the machine’ attitude. His actions often speak louder than his words. Refusing an OBE from the Queen in 2003, for instance, was one proverbial bitch-slap of the ruling powers that’s hard to forget. He, of course, objected to the word “Empire” which he associated with slavery and reminded him of “how my foremothers were raped and my forefathers brutalised.” In his poem “Bought and Sold” he was equally disdainful of the poet laureateship: “Don’t take my word, go check the verse / Cause every laureate gets worse.”

He hasn’t halted his protest against the status-quo at the shores of Britain either. In fact he’s just come back from a tour of Kenya. “I’m big there,” he says. He also played a leading role in the anti-apartheid movement in the 80s. “The most moving experience of my involvement was when I met three South African boys that had been arrested for hiring a helicopter and literally just throwing my words and my poems about freeing South Africa out of it. I was completely blown away because it was these middleclass young white kids; I thought it was done by some hardline ANCers; I’ve done poetry all my life and I haven’t done a prison sentence for it.”

But where does he think ‘free’ South Africa stands now? Zephaniah pauses at this, and then concedes, “It’s got some of the highest crime rates in the world; the country has some really deep problems and sometimes people don’t like to talk about it because Nelson Mandela is a hero and they want to see the bright side after everything.” But he explains that things just haven’t worked out: “When the ANC boycotted the government, they told people not to pay tax and most of them did. Now the ANC are in power, most of the people don’t want to pay tax. Many are saying we may have a black government, but we still don’t have electricity and water.”

Zephaniah recalls a “really sad” personal experience that drove home South Africa’s present grim situation. “It was the middle of the night in Durban and I heard a woman being raped. I was on the 8th floor and I could hear her screaming. I went down to the lobby and asked what they were going to do. They told me that if we call the police the men outside would try and get us later in revenge, and if we went out there to do something they’d kill us anyway.”

Despite the problems, Zephaniah thinks that at least racism is no longer a basis for politics in South Africa. But back on home turf he feels such discrimination is still at large. “When you get people like Trevor Phillips, equality chief, saying racism in Britain is over and people are still saying they’re being attacked in their mosques, there’s a real disconnect. Not far from where I live the BNP got into power for a while and there was no massive outcry. I thought it was all over, but it just isn’t. “

Zephaniah remembers a situation only a few weeks ago at a roundabout in London where an “Asian kid with a Muslim name” was getting searched by police. “I stopped after going round three times to see what was going on. They said they were stopping him under the Terrorism Act, and the kid half laughed and said, ‘Hey man, do I look like a terrorist?’ And the police officer went up close to him and half whispered in this ear, ‘I don’t care what you look like, but you smell like one.’ And the kid almost burst into tears. After all that I’ve known and been through, I thought I’d never see that again. But it still happens. You just don’t hear about it in the media.”

The lack of media coverage of issues like racism aggrivates Zephaniah. “On three occasions as lately, I’ve had disagreements with the BBC. They’ve approached me to do programs about politics, and every time I’ve said, I don’t want to go on and talk about the differences between the Milibands and whether Blairism is still alive. I want to go talk about things that really matter to people: the anti-war movement, the environment, and racism. But they don’t want to know!”But surely it’s a bit of a cycle where the BBC panders to what their audiences want? Zephaniah agrees, but adds, “I think if you broadened it out, you’d be surprised about the interest and difference it would make to how involved people are with important issues.”
I flag up his poem ‘Rong Radio’ which explores the media’s influence on how we think. He tells me it’s inspired by a Muslim woman who told him she had been listening to the radio while looking in the mirror and began to have a long hard stare at herself, and thought, “maybe I’m not innocent; maybe they’re right; maybe I am a terrorist and I don’t know it.” “That’s the power of the media,” he emphaises. “The can say something that’s not true, but if they say it long enough, people start believing it.”

“I am sick and tired of seeing people on TV and radio claiming to represent me or people like me.” For Benjamin Zephaniah it has always been about just speaking for yourself. “At the end of my poetry readings, even if people don’t agree with me and my ideas, I want them to say at least he got up and said it for himself.”

What are the mid-term elections?

Mid-term elections take place halfway into a president’s four-year term. While presidents serve four-year terms, the law-makers in Congress do not. Members of the House of Representatives must seek re-election every two years. Senators serve six-year terms. The Constitution divided the body of 100 senators into three equally sized ‘classes’; the terms of the classes are staggered so that every two years one-third of the Senate faces its electorate. Therefore, in mid-term elections all 435 Representatives and roughly one-third of Senators will face election. Additionally, leading political officials in the States may also be up for re-election.

How does the president’s party normally fare?

When a president’s party has held control of Congress in the years preceding the mid-term elections, these elections are generally interpreted as a referendum on the dominant party’s performance and the leadership of the incumbent president. Commentators in Washington will draw heavily on the mid-term results as they assess Obama’s first two years and prospects for re-election. If we look at historical patterns, one consistent trend is that the president’s party tends to lose seats in Congress at mid-term elections. Another consistent finding is that the state of the national economy, and in particular the level of unemployment, is a strong predictor of the number of seats that a president’s party loses.

What does this mean for Obama?

The Obama administration presides over stubbornly high unemployment rates. If the trends from previous mid-term elections continue in 2010, then it is likely that the Democratic Party will lose a significant number of seats in Congress. Expert predictions of Democratic losses in the House range from around 20 seats to as high as 50; the higher estimates would mean that the Democrats would lose control of the House. In the Senate the Dems could realistically lose up to 9 seats. So, overall, it is quite possible that President Obama could be forced to deal with a Republican Congress until the next presidential election in 2012.

What about the Tea Party movement?i>