In Praise of Wendell Berry

Here’s what Ken Kesey had to say about Wendell Berry: “Wendell Berry is the Sargeant York charging unnatural odds across our no-mans’s-land of ecology. Conveying the same limber innocence of young Gary Cooper, Wendell advances on the current crop of Krauts armed with naught but his pen and his mythic ridgerunner righteousness. One after the other he picks them off, from the flying bridges of their pleasure boats as they roar through his native Kentucky rivers, from beneath the hard hats in the Hazard county strip mines, from the swivel chairs in the Pentagon where they weigh the various ways to wage war on all forms of enemy life beyond the end of their own friendly chin. He’s a crackshot essayist and, for those given to capture, a genial and captivating poet, he boasts a formidable arsenal of novels, speeches, articles, stories and poems from his outpost in one of the world’s most ravaged battlefields where he writes the good fight and tends his family and his honeybees. Consider him an ally.”

The thing is, Kesey said this in 1971.

That was nearly forty years ago. And I realized, after reading another Berry essay collection a couple of weeks ago (in this case, The Way of Ignorance and Other Essays), that Berry has been pounding away at the same themes for at least that long. And nothing that he has expressed concerns, not to mention deep dismay, about—the increasing power of agribusiness, our increased disconnection from the land, the abandonment of local economies and communities, our collective disregard of the concept of stewardship—has gotten better. In fact, one could argue that everything of concern to Berry has gotten worse. And this is tragic, because current trends, particularly in agriculture, but also in the relentless suburbanization of American life, where no one actually really knows how to do anything, are probably unsustainable. The result will be, well, who knows what, but It might not be pleasant. And who will have the kind of wisdom and local knowledge that is central to Berry’s worldview then?

Berry is fond of throwing out nuggets like the following:

Nobody has a right to destroy anything, and everybody has an obligation to defend as much as he or she possibly can. But sooner or later you'll have to chose. You can't defend everything, even though everybody has an obligation to be as aware as possible, and as effective as possible, in preserving the things that need to be preserved everywhere. But I've argued over and over again that the fullest responsibility has to be exercised at home, where you have some chance to come to a competent and just understanding of what's involved, and where you have some chance of being really effective.

And:

Rome destroyed itself by undervaluing the country people, too.

And:

My approach to education would be like my approach to everything else. I'd change the standard. I would make the standard that of community health rather than the career of the student. You see, if you make the standard the health of the community, that would change everything. Once you begin to ask what would be the best thing for our community, what's the best thing that we can do here for our community, you can't rule out any kind of knowledge. You need to know everything you possibly can know. So, once you raise that standard of the health of the community, all the departmental walls fall down, because you can no longer feel that it's safe not to know something. And then you begin to see that these supposedly discreet and separate disciplines, these "specializations," aren't separate at all, but are connected. And of course our mistakes, over and over again, show us what the connections are, or show us that connections exist.

And:

There is no time in history, since white occupation began in America, that any sane and thoughtful person would want to go back to, because that history so far has been unsatisfactory. It has been unsatisfactory for the simple reason that we haven't produced stable communities well adapted to their places.

What I'm talking about in my work is the hope that it might be possible to produce stable, locally adapted communities in America, even though we haven't done it. The idea of a healthy community is an indispensable measure, just as the idea of a healthy child, if you're a parent, is an indispensable measure. You can't operate without it.

Berry is the philosopher of the local and what, specifically, being local entails. America has inflicted a number of wounds on itself the past several decades in the name of “free markets,” still clinging to the myth that there is actually such a thing. Berry isn’t much of a fan of these, actually. What he is a fan of is the dignity of work (remember that?), and the notion that we should take care of ourselves, particularly how we care for the land that supports us. And that we should have local knowledge–about the land, of course, but also about how to do the things we need to do to occupy the land–how to maintain and sustain it in particular. Well, at a time when externalities are catching up with us rapidly in any number of areas (global warming being the most obvious), we really need to pay more attention to what Berry is saying. And that means a return to the local. Berry has a number of mantras—the most recent is “Eat responsibly.” And by this means not just know what your food is, and whether it’s good for you or not—but where it comes from, how it was produced, under what conditions, and subsidized by whom? Sounds easy, but in modern America, and increasingly here in the UK, this is getting harder and harder to do.

I’ve been reading Berry for decades now, and his place in modern American thought is still a bit of a mystery. He’s written one of the best American novels of the century (A Place on Earth) and a number of volumes of pretty good poetry (particularly Farming: A Hand Book). He honed his craft at the Creative Writing Program at Stanford University, where he hung out with Kesey, Robert Stone, and Larry McMurtry. Most importantly, he has produced a series of essays over the years that stand as a testament to sound judgment. In many ways, conservative judgment as well—because Berry wants to conserve things.

This has led to many fun and enlightening exchanges within the conservative and libertarian blogging community. When did Berry, the arch-Luddite opponent of modern agribusiness, militarism and word processors, become a crunchy-conservative icon? Pretty recently, judging by some of the commentary I see occasionally on blogs like the ones cited above. And hardly a week goes by over at Front Porch Republic that someone doesn’t make a specific reference to Berry. I think this is great.

And where are the liberals on Berry? Generally, not to be found, which is a pity. Have liberals become so entwined on the wrong side of the globalization debate that they’ve lost all perspective? I’m way over-generalizing here, of course, but still, I seldom see anyone on the Democratic side speaking up for localism. Instead, we get Larry Summers and Bob Rubin, and Obama, for all his many virtues, still behaving like a farm state senator. But if liberals really want to pursue a more just society, the place to do it as at the local level. The far right understands this better than the left—hence the attacks on ACORN, which is essentially local political action. Look, you want better schools? Run for he school board. You want better food? Get on the planning board and make sure that the last local farmland isn’t being ploughed under for yet another housing development. You want better communities? Run for the city council, or whatever it is you’ve got. That Think Globally, Act Locally bumper sticker that we seldom see any more had it about right.

As Bill Kauffman has noted, “Among the tragedies of contemporary politics is that Wendell Berry, as a man of place, has no place in a national political discussion that is framed by Gannett and Clear Channel.” This may be changing. For one thing, Berry is still writing, and more and more people keep reading. I don’t think there’s a single book in his back catalogue that has ever gone out of print—pretty impressive for a writing career than spans over four decades. For another, Berry, bless his heart, just won’t shut up. Here’s Berry and long time co-author Wes Jackson in The New York Times earlier this year:

Agriculture has too often involved an insupportable abuse and waste of soil, ever since the first farmers took away the soil-saving cover and roots of perennial plants. Civilizations have destroyed themselves by destroying their farmland. This irremediable loss, never enough noticed, has been made worse by the huge monocultures and continuous soil-exposure of the agriculture we now practice.

To the problem of soil loss, the industrialization of agriculture has added pollution by toxic chemicals, now universally present in our farmlands and streams. Some of this toxicity is associated with the widely acclaimed method of minimum tillage. We should not poison our soils to save them.

Industrial agricultural has made our food supply entirely dependent on fossil fuels and, by substituting technological “solutions” for human work and care, has virtually destroyed the cultures of husbandry (imperfect as they may have been) once indigenous to family farms and farming neighborhoods.

Clearly, our present ways of agriculture are not sustainable, and so our food supply is not sustainable. We must restore ecological health to our agricultural landscapes, as well as economic and cultural stability to our rural communities.

For 50 or 60 years, we have let ourselves believe that as long as we have money we will have food. That is a mistake. If we continue our offenses against the land and the labor by which we are fed, the food supply will decline, and we will have a problem far more complex than the failure of our paper economy. The government will bring forth no food by providing hundreds of billons of dollars to the agribusiness corporations.

And then the kicker—we don’t get a bunch of starry-eyed idealism, but a bunch of necessary, practical and achievable measures to take to redress these problems:

Any restorations will require, above all else, a substantial increase in the acreages of perennial plants. The most immediately practicable way of doing this is to go back to crop rotations that include hay, pasture and grazing animals.

But a more radical response is necessary if we are to keep eating and preserve our land at the same time. In fact, research in Canada, Australia, China and the United States over the last 30 years suggests that perennialization of the major grain crops like wheat, rice, sorghum and sunflowers can be developed in the foreseeable future. By increasing the use of mixtures of grain-bearing perennials, we can better protect the soil and substantially reduce greenhouse gases, fossil-fuel use and toxic pollution.

Carbon sequestration would increase, and the husbandry of water and soil nutrients would become much more efficient. And with an increase in the use of perennial plants and grazing animals would come more employment opportunities in agriculture — provided, of course, that farmers would be paid justly for their work and their goods.

Thoughtful farmers and consumers everywhere are already making many necessary changes in the production and marketing of food. But we also need a national agricultural policy that is based upon ecological principles. We need a 50-year farm bill that addresses forthrightly the problems of soil loss and degradation, toxic pollution, fossil-fuel dependency and the destruction of rural communities.

No wonder most Reagan conservatives can’t stand the guy. A 50-year farm bill? But that may be how long it takes to re-capture the kind of localism that will provide us with a sustainable agricultural system. But Russell Kirk would probably take a look around at the mess we’ve made, and agree.
Did I mention Berry is a poet as well? The Mad Farmer poems in particular are worth a look. Let’s close with The Farmer and the Sea (initially published in Farming: A Hand Book):

The sea always arriving,
hissing in pebbles, is breaking
its edge where the landsman
squats on his rock. The dark
of the earth is familiar to him,
close mystery of his source
and end, always flowering
in the light and always
fading. But the dark of the sea
is perfect and strange, the absence of any place, immensity on the loose.
Still, he sees it as another
keeper of he land, caretaker
shaking the earth, breaking it, clicking the pieces, but somewhere
holding deep fields yet to rise,
shedding its richness on them
silently as snow, keeper and maker
of places wholly dark. And in him
Something dark applauds.

To learn more, this is a pretty good place to start.

Happy Birthday

I was surprised to learn that 2009 is the 60th anniversary of The Commonwealth—the association of former British colonies that still, amazingly, continue to work with each and talk to each other on a variety of issues. This would be a cause for celebration, one would think. And it appears there have been some. But I only learned about it when we visited Marlborough House, which is where the Commonwealth members meet from time to time to have their pictures taken, and who knows what else. It’s actually difficult to know, because the UK government has made no effort to publicise this event, which one would think would be a cause for celebration. The entertaining but not hugely informative Commonwealth website is here--there's certainly a lot of stuff going on.

As the ever-lengthening shadows of the British Empire eventually turned into a permanent dusk, the British, still looking for some place in the world, decided to hitch their star to the Americans—you know, the Special Relationship. As we have discussed previously, this has been something of a one-way street, and it keeps backfiring. And it appears that, you know, lessons have not been learned, still. One of the hallmarks of the Conservative Party these days is its desire to withdraw from Europe to some extent (which would complicate lots of things) and forge an even closer relationship with America. William Hague, the former leader of the Conservatives and now the Shadow foreign secretary (and expected to be actual Foreign Secretary in the event the Tories win the next elections) is a strong proponent of the Anglosphere. After the fiascos of Iraq and Afghanistan, the debacle of the financial meltdown (which is being felt more strongly in the UK than practically everywhere else), and the constant breakdown of everything the British try based on an American model of something (health care, privatization of highways, whatever), one would think that the British might have benefited from experience. Apparently not. Still, one can sympathize with the desire to remain a player on the world stage—this is still a rich and powerful country, with THE major international city as it capital.

However, there’s another route to follow, although successive British governments appear unwilling to consider it. And that is to take the Commonwealth seriously. If Britain—or more specifically England (since Scotland will likely go its own way at some point), does not want a closer alliance with the European Union, and has learned (finally, we hope) that an alliance with the US is not all it’s cracked up to be, there’s a third option. And that is to become a leading presence in the Commonwealth, and, more importantly, make the Commonwealth mean something economically and geopolitically.

Just look at who’s in the Commonwealth—there are 53 countries (and you can find them all here). And they all have some relation to Britain. Yes, they were all colonies of Britain at some point (except for Mozambique, which was a Portuguese colony, actually—we’re not quite sure how it fell into Commonwealth membership). They’re all over the world. There are Commonwealth members on every single continent expect Antarctica (where the British Antarctic Territory has yet to apply for commonwealth membership—but of course it’s not a country, so it can’t). The list includes some very large countries, both geographically (Australia and Canada) and by population (India and Pakistan), and some very small ones—Samoa, Vanuatu. There are economies in various stages of development—from the very rich (Britain and Canada) to the rapidly developing (India again, Pakistan) to the very poor (Jamaica, Nauru). There are some of the most stable countries in the world, and some of the most troubled. There are some of the whitest countries in the world to some of the darkest. Some are very Christian, some are very Muslim, and are very Hindu, and some are all over the place. And the list includes some of the most complicated and interesting countries trying to work through a myriad of problems—South Africa and Pakistan, for example. And then there are the countries not there, but either who might be again (Zimbabwe, that poor country, or Fiji, suspended in September 2009), or won’t be but where the British influence is still having important ramifications (Hong Kong, which was a British colony until 1997 when its sovereignty was transferred to China).

What binds this extraordinarily diverse range of countries together? Well, obviously, they were all part of the British Empire at some time. And whatever one thinks of the Empire, you can’t deny that it was (1) big, and (2) global. The sun really didn’t set on it. In Roland Huntford’s wonderful Scott and Amundsen, about the race to the South Pole, Huntford recounts how Scott could travel from England to Antarctica without leaving the Empire at any time. And, for all the savagery with which the Empire was sustained at times, there was also a positive legacy of (often) a functioning legal infrastructure, an educational system, a civil service. These weren’t always sustained, of course, but in many places they were. And then there’s English, which everyone in the world speaks, and which usually has been ingrained in these countries as the basic language of, well, most things, including their legal and business systems. And speaking of the legal system, it’s pretty well established in most of these countries. And there’s more. If the Commonwealth were an economic bloc, it would be about the size of the US economy. And it clearly has the potential to be a formidable trading bloc—it already is, in fact, but it’s just not organized as one.

The mission statement itself is pretty vacuous, and you can tell that it’s deliberately mild:

The Commonwealth is a voluntary association of 53 countries that support each other and work together towards shared goals in democracy and development.

Well, that’s certainly broad enough to pretty much include any country in the world, with some obvious exceptions. And it has a familiar ring to it—it sounds like America exporting democracy to Latin America, for example, and we know what a double-edged sword that has been over the past century and a half. But the follow-up is actually pretty direct an unambiguous:

Beyond the ties of history, language and institutions, it is the association’s values which unite its members: democracy, freedom, peace, the rule of law and opportunity for all. These values were agreed and set down by all Commonwealth Heads of Government at two of their biennial meetings (known as CHOGMs) in Singapore in 1971 and reaffirmed twenty years later in Harare.

But these are pretty strong goals if taken seriously. Buy and large, they are. It’s been the violations of these relatively abstract goals that have resulted in the suspension of both Zimbabwe and Fiji, and which kept South Africa excluded for decades.

I like to think of the Commonwealth as this constant flow of people, in movement constantly from one country to another, in a constant stream from one end of the globe to the other. But it clearly has London as its unofficial capital. Everyone comes here from Commonwealth countries—and the British, mainly the English, go everywhere. They’re always wandering around somewhere, either in the jungle, or some mountain in Asia somewhere, or landing in Morocco or someplace in North Africa somewhere and walking south. But it’s the in-migration that’s interesting. Anywhere you go in Britain there are a range of ethnic nationalities. I learned this from my citizenship test—while immigrants make up about 10% of the population of Britain now, they make up one third of London (although the recent spurt of growth in immigration has come from non-Commonwealth countries in Eastern Europe). So the mosaic of London is constantly enhanced by the variety of cultures and languages that meld here. And the same is true for Britain as a whole. Yes, there are parts of the country that are still classically English, and there are certainly people who resent what they perceive as the cultural intrusion—there are times when you’re painfully aware that this is indeed an island. And there are people coming to this little green island from all over, and they stay for a while—perhaps a lifetime. But many move on, or move back. And this keeps the flow going, constantly.

So this creates perhaps one of the most international cultural milieus to be found anywhere in the world. I don’t really know what’s comparable. New York is international as well, I suppose, but in a different way—people go there with the intent of staying there, or as a gateway to somewhere else in America. But there’s not that sense of permanence to the flows that characterize this intra-Commonwealth movement of people through London. Some stay, but most don’t. But this just keeps expanding a certain element of Britishness to the rest of the globe in a manner that, I think is probably unique among cultures. Yes, there’s a French sphere, but it’s largely confined to Africa. Russian influence has certainly faded the past twenty years, and that was always weird anyway. American influence is considerably more complicated—American consumerism and media appear wildly popular worldwide (or at least until the externalities catch up with us), but American notions of democracy transfer very unevenly, as we’ve seen.

Anyway, here’s my question. Is there some reason why Britain isn’t trying to make this something more of a political organization? It doesn’t appear that way. But why not? Given the apparent schizophrenia in Britain about whether or not to be more American, or whether or not to be more European—questions that won’t ever really be satisfactorily answered, at least within my lifetime—why not consider another alternative? Here’s this organization that, to varying degrees, does represent what Britain has brought to the world. Why not try to make something more of it? Why not try to establish the Commonwealth as something of a player? Here is this organization that embodies perhaps the most interesting, diverse, and yet coupled group of nations in the world, an organization that encompasses governments of countries spanning six continents, with a population of over 2.1 billion people. That’s nearly one-third of the global population. The Commonwealth is not a political organization. It’s actually something a bit weirder. But it’s also an organization which has as its specific goal the spread of democracy and human rights. Why not take this seriously?

There are lots of objections to Britain trying to make this organization “stronger”, of course. It’s not obvious that Commonwealth countries actually want something stronger, for one thing. Countries don’t get much more Republican than Australia, for example, in terms of their loathing for royalty. The notion of India and Pakistan drawing closer together seems absurd at present. Canada may, with some justification, regard their Commonwealth legacy as a cute anachronism, given its proximity to and inter-connectedness with the US. And smaller countries may resent, to varying degrees, the notion of former Colonial masters once again trying to impose economic or political measures—or even suggesting them. That Zimbabwe thing hasn’t exactly worked out. And given the range of ethnic, religious and political backgrounds of the countries, it may be patent foolishness to suggest closer integration. And while there has been some abstract discussion of a Commonwealth Free Trade Agreement, it hasn’t progressed very far. Pursuing a more commonwealth-friendly economic set of policies may find resistance from both Europe and the US, of course—but that doesn’t necessarily mean walking away from either—although it may mean some readjustment of relations with both. This may be no bad thing.

And yet, and yet…the Commonwealth does include one-third of the world’s population, who all speak the same language, and who undeniably share (for better or worse) a cultural and political legacy. Why not try to make something more of it? At the very least, it would provide an interesting diversion from the tedious arguments about whether or not Britain is part of Europe. So Happy Birthday, Commonwealth. Here’s to 60 more years.

The above First Day Cover commemorates the opening of the 32nd Commonwealth Parliamentary Conference in 1986.

Fixing What Isn't Broken

We have this great little library around the corner, which is very convenient. In London, there are lots of libraries, but it’s such big city geographically that it’s not always the case that there’s a library just around the corner. It’s a nice library—it’s right next to The Keats House, where John Keats lived next door to Fanny Brawne before heading off to Italy and an untimely death. The trees at the edge of the Keats House grounds hang over the path that leads to the library doors, and in Spring there are lovely blossoms dropping petals on the path. The building itself is that curious medley that one often encounters in England, a combination of a bit of old grandeur with some 1960s crap thrown in to make the interior more “functional.” But it’s comfortable, it has a good collection of books and newspapers, an attractive children’s room, and a bunch of PCs that people use for internet access, and it used to have a neighbor’s cat, Moggy, who would wander in and sleep all day before she died last Spring, much to the dismay of the regulars.

Recently there’s been a change in tone. There have been some new people showing up behind the desk, and they’re all chirpy. They ask questions, like “Did you find everything you need?”, stuff like that. They chat up the fact that, oh look, you have this book out, and that one too. Personally, I find this a bit irritating. I like my librarians on the reserved side, and not to be salemen. Fortunately, this has not been a regular occurrence, but it makes me nervous. And it turns out that it may be part of a general plot to change the character of libararies in the area entirely. Well, maybe not a plot--it may not be nearly as well thought out as a plot would be.

The Heath Library, as it’s called, is part of the Borough of Camden library system. And the Borough of Camden has been trying to figure out how to cut its budget. Just like everyplace else in Britain, and the US, and any number of other places around the world these days. So Camden has decided to make some adjustments to how library services are provided in the borough. As the Camden New Journal reports this week:

CONTROVERSIAL plans to make a £2million cut to the library budget by reducing staff and introducing self-service machines were finally signed off at the Town Hall last night (Wednesday).

I can’t wait to see what self-service machines are all about. Self-service for what? Ah, checking out books. What could possibly go wrong here?

Liberal Democrat culture chief Councillor Flick Rea resisted pressure for a rethink and agreed to proposals mapped out in the council’s library reform programme, known as Growing Your Library and developed by council officials and consultants over several months.

Rea said the only way libraries would survive for future generations in its current £8.2million budget. “Otherwise the service will not survive in the tooth and claw climate of modern local government finance,” she said.
The cuts will be made over four years.

The plan here seems to be Growing Your Library by Cutting Its Funds.

Before making her decision, Councillor Rea heard deputations from library users who criticised the programme, including one from John Richardson of the Camden History Society who accused her of allowing it to be “pushed through without democratic process”.

She said the time saved by putting in self-issuing machines – and thus “freeing up” librarians to help readers – would be cancelled out by the staffing cuts.
“There is no evidence that the library service will improve as a result of the changes,” she added.

In addition to the 15 posts that have already been axed, more cuts, including some compulsory redundancies, are expected.

I hope someone eventually will explain to me why there never actually seems to be any money for saving the things that are worth saving. And why we can’t just hire more librarians “to help readers,” whatever that means. Finding books? Learning how to use the catalog? Finding stuff on the internet? People need help with these things?

How did the Borough of Camden come up with these plans? Well, for all its concern about saving money, the Borough doesn’t appear to mind spending a bit of money itself. As the Camden New Journal reports in a separate article:

CONSULTANTS hired to help redesign Camden’s library service were paid more than £2,000 a day over the summer.

American firm IDEO was paid £47,000 for 23 days work on the Growing Your Library (GYL) project, according to information released following a request by the New Journal under the Freedom of Information Act.

The work was part of a major overhaul of the library service in Camden, which will see some staff jobs cut and machines introduced.

Look, those machines again.

Reports suggested consultants visited a series of businesses, including the glamorous Apple Store in Regent Street, to see what ideas could be transferred to council-run libraries.

Well, I can certainly see how hitting the Apple Store would be useful in trying to redesign library services.

On its website IDEO describes itself as an “innovation and design” company. It lists some of its better known clients, a roll call of American multi-billion-pound organisations, including the Bank of America, food giant Nestlé and the charity set up by billionaire philanthropist and Microsoft owner Bill Gates, the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation.

Actually, the Ideo website is a hoot. Where do these people come from? Oh, Palo Alto, as it turns out. It’s like a William Gibson novel, one of the recent ones—everything is symbolic, and of the moment, or something. Someone named Ted Brown seems to be the design guru of the company, and you can hear him drone on in a video the site helpfully provides. And there are lots of references to design—Climate Change and design, how design got small and then big again, that sort of thing. Now, I don’t doubt that design is important, Climate Change being a pretty good example of how better design can help us out quite a lot, but it’s still not obvious to me how this is the group to talk to in order to determine how your library services can be “improved.”

So what did they actually do for Camden for two grand a day? It’s not actually clear, because Camden won’t release the report that they spent £47,000 on.

Freedom of Information officers at the Town Hall refused to reveal what the council got out of the deal and a request to see a draft of the ideas supplied to the leisure department was refused on the grounds that they have not been introduced yet.

Although officers accepted it was in the public interest to reveal what the money was spent on for “accountability and transparency” reasons, they ruled that to “prematurely” disclose the findings would result in “partial or inaccurate information being released” and would not allow Camden time to discuss with staff how the plans might affect them.

Officials insisted it was in the “public interest” not to release any more information.

We certainly wouldn’t want to release anything prematurely, to give the wrong impression. Just as well, because I imagine the discussion of the following probably needs some sharpening up:

Discussions held during a five-day workshop involving IDEO and library staff – described as a “deep-dive” brainstorming event – have been posted on the internal Camden intranet.

Details of some of the suggestions put forward by IDEO consultants have been criticised by staff, who contacted the New Journal to say the public would be “horrified” and “amused” at the “absurdity” of the week-long session and “the way their council tax money has been spent”.

The firm visited six businesses in London, including City Farm in Islington, the Apple Store in Regent Street and Jamie Oliver’s cook shop Recipease in Clapham.

City Farm? Where the cows and chickens are? That should help.

Consultants spent time at three Camden libraries – Regent’s Park, Kentish Town and Swiss Cottage – where they held meetings with library users and observed staff “to find out how they actually provided and used services”, but staff have queried their decision not to visit any celebrated libraries outside the borough.

Or any of the uncelebrated ones within the borough other than those three, for that matter.

The firm’s main specification was to come up with innovative ideas about what libraries and librarians could offer in the future, when Camden launches the second phase of its library reform programme next year.

This must be where the “self-service machines” thing comes from. Funnily enough, try as I might, I can’t find a single reference to anything about libraries on the Ideo website other than a link to an article in American Libraries magazine about “Design Thinking” in Libraries, by Stephen Bell, who may or may not be connected to Ideo. The article and comments are great—about “human-centered” somethingorother, and--here's the kicker--providing a "memorable library experience." There's the Apple connection, all right. So it’s obvious why Camden chose Ideo to come up with some visionary thinking on how libraries can be improved at the same time their budgets are being hacked to death.

A council spokeswoman said: “The council approached a number of specialists to bid for work on the Growing Your Library project. IDEO, an international company whose UK headquarters are in Camden, was chosen in competition with a number of other agencies, as they offered the best combination of experience, capacity and proven track record in the field.”

Well, if this was the best of the lot, what did the other bidders look like? I’m reminded of that D.J. Taylor novel with a running subtext of the increasing rip-off of UK governments by management consultants running around a couple of decades ago in the country’s haste to privatize everything that moved. This sort of thing is the logical result—let’s have a firm of design consultants decide what libraries are for and how they should be used. After all, librarians wouldn’t necessarily have any idea of how to improve services, obviously, or anything above and beyond what you could extract in a day-long brainstorming session

Actually, given the apparently marginal state of libraries, we may as well have a design firm given an assessment of how to improve library usage. Libraries in the UK (and apparently in the US as well) are under pressure—over the past ten years over 100 libraries have been closed in England, visits per capita have been declining (marginally, but still), and expenditures per capita have been rising sharply. I can think of lots to fault the Labour government for, but increasing funds to libraries (until very recently) is not one of them. But, ultimately, libraries in the UK really depend on local council funding—and councils are currently hurting, so it’s not surprising that libraries make an easy target. It’s not as if anyone actually makes money from them. This is a familiar story, with a number of explanations—increasing access to the internet and other electronically-delivered information elsewhere, the increasing uneducatability of a number of children, and, perhaps, the possibility that people just read less—although I would need more convincing on this last point, in this country where not only is the major book award televised, but the bookmakers give odds on the potential winners.

So there are good reasons to get a broad range of inputs here. But it’s not clear to me that having librarians and library staff become the functional equivalents of the sales force at the Apple store is the right approach. Or brainstorming sessions, for that matter. What is needed, first of all, is a commitment to culture, and its preservation, and broad public access to it. In many respects, there is an admirable commitment to this notion here, or at least there was when times were good. But for a country with the literary heritage that this one has, even the closure of one library is a measure of our failure to meet this commitment

Unsolicited Theatre Review: Enron

Enron, which is packing the Royal Court Theatre nightly before it heads off to the West End at highly inflated ticket prices, is worth it. It’s a bit disenheartening that Lucy Prebble, whose second play it is, can turn out such an accomplished piece of work at such a tender age—she’s all of 28. But it’s great theatre—it covers the bases, it’s pretty funny throughout and highly funny in spots, and if it overdoes some of the symbolism at time, it captures how Enron fit into the American imagination of the time. And it moves right along, without a dead spot all evening. Prebble understand that Enron is a quintessentially American story, one of a business so intertwined with politics and funny money and that curious belief in unfettered markets that no one ever seems to learn from. That she is able to turn this story of a confused mixture of greed and ideology into a fine theatrical evening is a considerable accomplishment.

(A bit of full disclosure first—I worked at Citi for a number of years, and while I had no direct contact with the Enron people or any of the deals that Citi brought on their behalf, including the now notorious partnerships that ended up sinking the company, I knew some of the people who did. It was not Citi’s finest hour. Of course, Citi was having a lot of things go wrong around then, so it was just one of a whole raft of problems that came along that came close to sinking the bank.)

The story is fascinating enough, as anyone who has seen The Smartest Guys in the Room will know. Sleepy gas pipeline company becomes global trading megastar, or something along those lines. We don’t actually see much of that process, though—what sort of company Ken Lay had built before the arrival of Skilling. So we don’t really get a sense of how transformative Jeffrey Skilling was when he came into the company, although Prebble does try to lay this out early on. But Prebble does what appears to be a pretty good job of showing how driven Skilling was, and how it changed the company from a bunch of traders to a bunch of sharks. Sam West (son of Timothy) plays Skilling as a nerd, and he’s surrounded by several nerds as well, including the equally odious Andrew Fastow, who was to become Enron’s Chief financial Officer and was directly responsible for the fraudulent partnerships that led to Enron’s downfall. Sam West’s performance is nicely done—we pick up immediately thathe’s a nerd, but he’s also a really, really smart one, and he won’t be happy until everyone realizes how smart he really is. So here are these nerdy guys growing this company into an American powerhouse, with old Texan gas guy Ken Lay—a nice turn by Tim Piggott-Smith—in the background, beaming away, playing golf with both Bushes. What could possibly go wrong?

We get to see pretty much all the relevant action, including the raping of the California ratepayer, all passed off as just business in Bush’s America. Well, it was Clinton’s America too, it has to be said. But he was sandwiched by a pair of Texas oil guys for whom there was no amount of government intervention into the energy business that could be justified. Prebble alludes to this, but British audiences often have such a weird idea of America and how it works that you never really know if the British understand how thoroughly trashed America was during this period. (Most British I know still think of the Republican Party as being more or less equivalent to the Tories, when in fact the Republicans have actually moved to another planet.) It doesn’t detract from the enjoyment of the play, however, if this point isn’t brought out more—Prebble keeps things moving right along.

We know how this turns out, of course—Skilling resigns (and eventually goes to jail), Fastow turns state’s evidence to save his own skin, and Ken Lay dies at an extraordinarily convenient time for Ken Lay (although tales of sightings in South America are legion). Part of the joy of the play is how nicely Prebble string it out for us—there’s lots that could have been included, or is only referred to in passing (that notorious plant in India, for example, is worth a play in its own right), but the play holds together pretty well on its own. Some reviewers have complained that the symbolism Prebble uses is a bit heavy—debt-eating Raptors, for example. I found them, if not cute, at least appropriate. These are people who named their deals after Star Wars characters, after all. And how else theatrically display a story about, at its heart, accounting fraud? This is an American story, and American stories tend to be large scale, so throwing in a bunch of obvious symbols, surrounded by the occasional song and dance routine, fits right in. It’s Texas. But more than Texas, too, as Prebble points out—a recurring theme of the play is how willing, enthusiastic even, Wall Street was in suspending its disbelief about what Enron was doing, long after it became clear that something was very wrong.

We wondered about the audience, which seemed to mostly people in their early 20s. All of this is history to them—2001 was a lively year for financial scandals, and these kids would have seen this stuff on TV—or not, which seems more likely. What 13 or 15 year old in their right mind watches the financial news? Well, Skilling and Fastow probably did, which tells you about as much as you need to know about them. And as events of the past several years have amply demonstrated, it wasn’t just Skilling and Fastow—they just got there first.

Unsolicited art review: Turner and the Masters

The Tate Museum has the finest collection of the works of J. M. W. Turner in the world, and from time to time they feel the need to refresh the public with another show to keep proving that Turner deserves the “greatest British artist ever” tag. Back in 2005 this resulted in a hugely interesting show called Turner, Whistler, Monet, which looked at the interactions between the three, and it was a genuine treat. This time around it’s Turner and the Masters, a look at the painters that influenced Turner. At least that’s the intention. And everyone loves it. Well, not quite everyone—only Brian Sewell seems to give it the critical eye it deserves. The Times calls it a “Magnificent and hugely ambitious exhibition.” It’s quoted right there on the Tate website. What it turns into, however, is something completely different, something along the lines of Turner the Competitive Cockney Gnome who Tried to Outdo Everyone without Ever Having an Original Idea.

This is certainly the impression we took away from the show, although I suspect it’s not what was intended. In fact, the real impression we had was the same as the one we had after seeing the Van Gogh and Millet show at the Musee d’Orsay in Paris many years ago—isn’t it interesting that van Gogh used Millet’s pictures as the architecture for many of his own paintings? It was known for years that van Gogh admired Millet, and even included “after Millet” in some of the titles of his works. But still, it was surprising to see how much copying was involved. "They are not copies," Van Gogh told his brother, Theo, "but translations into another language." Well, maybe, but after wandering through several rooms at the Musee d’Orsay, you’d actually be hard pressed to say that most of them weren’t copies, even if van Gogh transformed the scene with an entirely different sense of colour and a much more aggressive brushwork.

Van Gogh was at least lavish in his praise of Millet (”Millet is father Millet…counsellor and mentor in everything for young artists”), and never denied his debt. Turner, on the other hand, comes off poorly in this show, which was probably not the intent of the organizers. Yes, Turner was a prodigious painter, and the show concentrates on a small percentage of his output. But still, nearly every painting by Turner is paired with the painting that he was modelling in one way or another, and very often they are direct copies, with the only difference being Turner’s different use of colour and, again, his distinctive brushwork. And while he knew how to compose a picture as well as anyone, there are some pictures where the perspective just doesn’t make sense. And of course, like Bonnard, he just can’t paint people, a fact usually overlooked—or just ignored.

Now, this is always interesting—no artist works in isolation, there are always influences, and much of the fun of art appreciation is figuring out what those are. The fact that Whistler and Monet were friends shouldn’t be a surprise, but it’s something you normally don’t think about. We think of artists as solitary beings, but even if that has some truth in terms of their lifestyles, it can’t be true in terms of where their art comes from. The line from Millet to van Gogh couldn't be more direct. And it is interesting to see what Turner derived from, say, Rembrandt, or Watteau, of Cuyp, or the painter that Turner felt himself most in competition with—Claude. Turner often is a great artist. But here in London he’s not only a great artist, but the greatest of all time, it seems. One gets that impression, anyway—from the time Ruskin started trumpeting him as the greatest British artist ever, the art establishment in the UK has shown no signs of disputing this. Turner, like the Impressionists, has become an industry. Sewell, who has a reputation for not liking much of anything, has some words of praise for the show, but he also captures it about right, warts and all:

Turner belonged to a generation of artists whose work was deliberately rooted in the past, who could be measured by the comparison that revealed how much they had retained, how much rejected, and how much moved on by adding something new and of their own that might suggest that they had exceeded the successes of their mentors. Turner painted not in slavish imitation but in rivalry, and two centuries on it is easier to see where he matched Claude's subtleties and Rembrandt's bravura and where he failed utterly — for this is an exhibition not only of Turner's occasional sublimities but of dogged recapitulation that is dull and failure that is ludicrous.

And that seems about right. When Turner was good, he was as good as anyone. But he often wasn’t that good—and yet somehow we’re supposed to ignore the fact that he often painted bad pictures.

The show brings up two reservations. First, if the show is representative of Turner’s output, it’s an extraordinarily derivative output, without a single new idea until very late in Turner's career. I suspect that’s an unfair portrait of Turner—he was prolific, and this is just a sampling. But the Tate is telling us it’s an extremely important sampling, and there’s nothing in the show to tell you otherwise. Turner painted what other artists were also painting, and we’re supposed to take away that, well, he was Turner, that’s al you really need to know. It’s a bad analogy, I know, but I’ve been looking for a place to use it ever since I saw the movie Mama Mia (the biggest grossing movie of all time in the UK, amazingly enough)—my main reaction was “Who knew Abba wrote so many bad songs?” Sewell is absolutely right—there are an awful lot of bad paintings by Turner here, especially the ones on mythological subjects. And to pretend otherwise is just silly, and a bit insulting.

Second, it’s a chronological show, so you can see how Turner developed as an artist. Yes, he had many skills, but it wasn’t until he was old that he became Turner. The Turner we think about, and whose art still stuns, is the Turner who lapsed into pure light and atmosphere. And he didn’t start doing these paintings until he was an old man (or relatively one). Turner was bon in 1775. And those extraordinary maritime paintings, with the storms, and the clouds, and the spray, and the sun—the ones that really do take your breath away—those are from the 1840s. And while Turner was acknowledged as a major painter by his contemporaries even before he was painting these stunning seascapes, some explication of how Turner got to this style would have been appreciated, other than the bland comments we’re greeted with in the narrative.

Still, it’s a very interesting show, worth seeing. For one thing, it’s not often that the competitive nature of genius is acknowledged, and it’s refreshing to see it so openly acknowledged. And Turner was competitive, absolutely. And it is interesting to study the comparisons to see where Turner was successful, and where he failed. Plus there’s the bonus of seeing some exceptionally good art that doesn’t normally show up in London. The Rembrandts are at treat, for example, including The Old Mill, normally at home at The National Gallery in Washington. And Claude—well, you can see why it was that Turner targeted him as the one to beat. And there’s a small masterpiece—The White House at Chelsea, pictured just above—by Thomas Girtin, a friend of and (in the spirit of the show) competitor to Turner. Girtin died when he was quite young—in 1802, at age 27. And the show quotes Turner’s comment that “had Tom Girtin lived I should have starved.” Looking at this little gem, surrounded by dozens of larger and more grandiose pictures by Turner and others, you understand exactly what Turner meant.

Unsolicited Music Review--Authenticity revisited

The past week or so has been pretty interesting--we've been to six concerts, and they ranged from the truly boring to the magnificent. But what most characterized them was a distinction between the excessivly academic approach to performance, versus what I guss we need to call a Romantic approach. Not that the second label is remotely applicable to the music in question--it's prety much, with one exception, music of the 13th through the 17th centuries (with an hour of 20th century Norwegian thrown in).

This all started with what used to be called Early Music Weekend at South Bank, before it was devalued by whoever it was that makes these decisions there. Back in the day, thesse were largely run and organized by the redoubtable Philip Pickett and his New London Consort, and the standards were uniformly excellent--great groups, preat performances, and always an interesting thematic basis for each year. Then, suddenly, Pickett was gone, and things have been in decline ever since. Not that there haven't been some interesing concerts--this year we had an absolutely first rate one or two, in fact. But we seem to have migrated to some excessivly academic orientation, and the result has been increasing variability in the quality of the performances, and in the interest levels of the audiences--which, as far as I can tell, have been declining. A purely anecdotal view, however.

So this year it was called Taking the Risk. And what this was supposed to encapsulate was the fact that Medieval and Renaissance musicians--singers and instrumentalists both--often worked without written notes, and had to, you know, improvise. This penetating insight formed the basis of a series of concerts that were supposed to demonstrate how, well, risky this was. Hence the title of the series. Get it? Actually, given that the vast majority of attendees of these concerts are pretty sophisticated musically, it would be a bit surprising if they didn't already know this. And it's also the case that when singers and instrumentalists "improvised", it was well withing expected guidelines--there were lines that you just knew, and where and when to use them. It was part of your training as a musician. This wasn't John Coltrane. There was a certain art, to it, of course--you were probably working within the confines of a group of some sort, and had to attend to what others were likely doing--but, there again, you probably knew what they were LIKELY to do in any given measure, so it was probably pretty straightforward. It wan't necessarily easy--but it was part and parcel of a musician's training and education. So we felt there was a teeny bit of exaggeration here, and as best we can figure, there probably was some Arts Council funding involved. But what do we know?

Anyway, the four concerts we saw last weekend varied widely in their approach, with two-- Stevie Wishart, and a group called The Division Lobby, led by Patrice Chateauneuf-- being the disappointments. Not because of their level of professionalism, or their abilities--it was more the academic attitude that this is what improvization meant. In the case of Wishart, it also meant several songs on the hurdy-gurdy, which were probably several too many. Granted, it's an interesting instrument, but as a solo unaccompanied instrument it's really of academic interest only. Not that there weren't supporters of this approach in the audience. But it wan't quite what we had in mind. Same with The Division Lobby--I have seldom heard such uninspired "improvisation" from any group--and this was a group of pretty impressive musicians (it included Pavlo Beznosiuk and Elizabeth Kenny, stellar violinist and lutenist respectively), but it just didn't work very well--I suspect there was a bit too much of a search for some sort of improvisational purity involved--but, sadly, this led to a pretty lifeless result. Which was disappointing, given the reputations of the participants (and the high regard I have for them). Of coure, it gave the impression of being something of a pick-up group as well, which didn't help. It's hard to know why these two concerts were so lifeless. But I think it's bound up, inextriably, with an excessivly academic approach to what imprivisation is supposed to entail, and the search for authenticity.

The other two concert we attended were considerably better--one in particular. The Orlando Consort presented a range of polyphonic stules, each building on the previous performance, which showed the evolution of chant vover three centureis. And, thankfully, they didn't really talk up the improvizational dimension of this--but we knew it was there. In fact, if there is any polyphonic group asociated with improvisation, it's this group--they've recorded a couple of CDs with Perfect Houseplants, a jazz group (one of which as in interesting take on Armed Man Masses), and their most recent CD was recorded with a group of musicians from Goa. So these guys are pros. A satisfying concert in all respects.

The best of the lot, though, largely because it demonstrated the theme perfectly, was the final concert, Crawford Young and Friends. What friends! Patricia Bovi, the force of nature who founded Micrologus; Begonia Olivade, who sings with Hesperion XXI and has founded her own group, Mudejar; and London's own Leah Studdard, who founded Mediva. And Young himself--one of the best lutenists in the world, who disproves any notion that one may have about the limits of improvisation on the lute. This was a masterlalss in not only improvisation, but also how to present a concert with a minimum of fuss. Five stars here, without a single reservation--the songs were impeccably chosen and performed, Bovi and Olivade are wonderful singers (although with different styles, Olivade coming out of the Spanish/Moorish tradition, and Bovi more of a straight-ahead Italian renaissance pro), and all are superb instrumentalist. This was the concert to see. And Young hiself seemed a bit sheepish about "mentioning the 'i' word."

This has been a recurring debate in early music performance for a couple of decades now--how "authentic" are these performcnes, and how can performers make them more "authentic?" Original instruments were supposed to resolve some of htis debate, and I guess it has, to some extent. Of course, the tuning goes out of whack on these instruments pretty easily, but that seems a price performers (some, anyway) appear willing to pay. The broader issue is what are the criteria for "authentic" performance? It's this issue that I think has dminished the appeal of early music concerts. A bold statement, but the contrast between the pristine efforts of, say, The Division Lobby last weekend, and the more raucous performances of groups that improvise a lot, like Oni Wytars, Ensemble Unicorn, and Joglaresa, are pretty dramatic. And I vastly prefer the latter. I know, I know, if I were a music historian I would probably take this more seriously, but I'm not. I'm a reasonably well-informed concert-goer (and occasional singer), so my criteria are different--I want to be entertained, hopefully even exhilarated. It's the difference between the Boston Camerata of thirty years ago and the one of today--the performances these days may be more historically accurate, but they lack the good-natured messiness that brought such joy in their early years.

A similar contrast emerged later last week in the two performances we attended. On Saturday night we heard the Tallis scholars in a sumptious concert, mainly of lamentations by Lassus, Gombert and Josquin, and the Victoria Requiem Mass. And it was lovely. Peter Phillips conducts brilliantly, the singers are glorious, the balance is perfect, and the song selection is faultless. And it sounds just like every other Tallis Scholars concert we've ever heard. Everything they do, they do exactly the same way. Now, this can be justified by the general lack of critical markings in the pieces they're singing--but whereas Harry Christopher and The Sixteen will add in interpretive modulation, Phillips doesn't--and the Scholars sing it the way it's written. This is why we stopped attending Tallis Scholars concerts--each one sounds exactly the same as another one. From the standpoint of academic purity, this is a brilliant approach. But it leaves the listener wanting jsut a bit more. In the Gombert pieces you could tell the choir was aching to cut loose, but they didn't. A pity. This is why we prefer The Sixteen--they're not afraid to take chances with the music.

Which brings us tho the highlight of the week--Thursday nights performance by Nordic Voices at Saint John's, Smith Square. This, again, was Renaissance music, at least the first half--but there are only six of them, and they were booked into the gargantuan SJSS concert space by their record company, and the audience was not, shall we say, as sophisticated as one would have liked--it gave the impression that the Norwegian Consulate had pulled out the stops. But what a concert! The first half was Renaissance lamentations, mostly by Victoria (again) and Gesualdo, but done with considerably more feeling than the Scholars. The voices were of comparable quality-the difference was the emotion Nordic voices brought to the pieces. And the second half! This was devoted to contemporary Norwegian composers, who are producing some amazing choral works, many of which involve some sublime experimental voicing, particularly with overtones. And this includes the group's baritone, Frank Havroy, who compsed the last scheduled piece in the work, a lullaby called Bysjan, bysjan, lite ban, that has to be one of the most stunningly beautiful lullabies we've ever heard. This is a group to savor. It was the first concert appearance in London, and I hope not the last. Hopefully, someone over at South Bank will book them into the Purcell Room, or Queen Elizabeth Hall--or maybe Wigmore Hall, where the acoustics are even better. But I look forward enthusiastically to their return.

Tony Blair, President?

Henry Kissinger is said to have once remarked, when asked if he was planning to consult with Europe on something or another, “Who do I call?” Well, there may soon be an answer to that question, following the approval by Irish voters this past weekend of the European Constitution. It now appears very likely that the only two remaining countries whose approval is required, Poland and the Czech Republic, will give their approval by the end of the year. Should that occur, Europe will get a President, and, equally importantly, a Foreign Minister. These are, we are told, good things to have, and we should have them. Europe, taken as an entity, represents the world’s largest economy, a substantial military (and nuclear) presence, and a needed counterpoint to American (and growing Asian) geopolitical and economic influence. So this is potentially quite an important development for global geopolitics, and one would think that Europe would want to put a European face forward. So why on earth is everyone in the UK trying to push the idea that Tony Blair is the best candidate for the position?

The talking heads, and a bunch of others, are certainly all over this. Consider today’s column in the Financial Times by Charles Grant, who we’re told is the head of the Centre for European Reform, an organization with which I am unfamiliar, but no matter. He fights the good fight:

If the Lisbon treaty enters into force, which seems likely, the European Union will appoint a president to chair the European Council, which brings together the heads of government. The president will lack formal powers. His or her influence will depend on their force of personality, powers of persuasion and contact book. On those criteria Tony Blair, UK prime minister from 1997 to 2007, scores well. Many EU governments are backing him.

Well, there’s certainly Gordon Brown, and Sarkozy, and Berlusconi, but Berlusconi may find himself increasingly distracted with litigation. Aside from these, it’s not clear who supports him. Germany certainly has reservations, the Dutch and Swedes seem to have their own candidates, the Spanish appear quite unenthusiastic, and many of the smaller states have fond wishes for Chris Patten, who does not, sadly, appear to be a serious candidate. And I imagine that the US couldn’t be happier at this prospect.

Mr Blair has enemies. Swaths of Europe’s intelligentsia – especially in Britain – despise him for his friendship with former US president George W. Bush and his role in the Iraq war. The baggage of Iraq could make it harder for a President Blair to work for and represent the EU governments.

Well, despise seems about right. There are huge numbers of Britons who feel the same way, and who sort of wish he would just stay in the US. And Grant significantly understates the problem here. It’s not his friendship, if that’s the word, with George Bush, but rather his incredibly poor judgment, demonstrated time and time again. Yes, he won lots of elections, but that’s mainly because the Tories were so hopeless, but they’re not any more, and Brown is damaged goods. But the real question is Blair’s ability to represent Europe independently as Europe, and, based on his performance as Prime Minister, he has severely compromised himself in this regard. Grant’s little swipe against the “intelligentsia” is not only unfair, but also untrue—there are lots of people, in Britain and elsewhere, who despise Blair who are hardly “intelligentsia.” And they despise him for the right reason—on the major moral issue of our time, he caved. They see him as a pure opportunist with no values to speak of.

Grant goes on with another howler: "Federalists dislike him for betraying their hopes that he would bring Britain into the euro." Well, they have a point, and as we learned from Robert Fisk only just yesterday, the Chinese believe Blair kept the UK out of the Euro because George Bush didn’t want the UK to adopt the Euro. Gee, some recommendation. So the Federalists have a pretty good reason to distrust Blair as well.

Grant himself thinks he’s got four reasons why Blair would be a good choice. Let’s take them one by one:

First, notwithstanding Iraq, he has a track record as a successful politician. He brokered a peace deal for Northern Ireland, while his recent work on the Palestinian economy shows a commitment to settling the Middle East conflict. As for the EU, he invented its defence policy (with Jacques Chirac, the former French president), helped create the Lisbon agenda of economic reform, and ensured that climate change and energy security became priorities.

Well, yes, he’s been a successful politician. The world happens to be full of them. He did broker a peace deal in Northern Ireland—but the groundwork for that was done mostly by John Major and his government—Blair showed up just in time to pull it all together, but Blair isn’t the heavy lifting type—that was done by other people. And his work in the Middle East is something of a joke—does Grant really believe that Blair has a commitment to the middle East and settling the conflict there? Based on what? What tangible benefits can Grant point to that Blair has secured for dispossessed Palestinians? And Blair is good at mouthing platitudes about economic reform and climate change, but his record as Prime Minster suggest he was basically a Thatcher clone—there certainly was no slowdown of mindless privatization under Labour (that’s reform for you), and Blair certainly did nothing tangible to move the UK to a higher level of environmental sustainabiltiy.

Second, Mr Blair would give the EU credibility in other parts of the world. When the leader of a small country represents the EU – as sometimes happens with the current, rotating presidency – other powers do not always take it seriously. In January during the Gaza conflict, the Czech prime minister – then EU president – was not a big player in the diplomacy that tried to resolve it. The new EU president will take on that external role. Recently an Indian official said to me: “If you want us to respect your EU president, choose someone we have heard of, like Mr Blair, Angela Merkel or Nicolas Sarkozy. If you choose the prime minister of Luxembourg we may not find the time to meet him.”

Oh, right. Look, the European governments could pick Santa Claus as their President, and Indian and other politicians will still meet him. And if it’s Blair, they’ll rightly wonder whether they’re meeting someone who genuinely represents Europe, or America.

Third, Mr Blair is a great salesman. One of the EU’s big problems is that few citizens understand what it does, how it works or why it adds value. Mr Blair’s communications skills would help the Union get its message across, within Europe and beyond.

A good salesman? Wow, so are Glenn Beck and Sean Hannity, based on their ability to peddle bullshit that people actually believe. So what? If Europe’s credibility depends on who its choice to represent it is, it should just begin the dissolution process right now. Is Grant serious? Does he really run something called the Centre for European Reform?

Finally, Mr Blair could help the EU to cope with the Conservatives, who seem likely to form a British government by mid-2010. They have yet to define their EU policies but may try to opt out of parts of the Lisbon treaty or the institutions of EU defence. If David Cameron, the Tory leader, does start to move against the EU, who better to argue back than President Blair? In private he would try to dissuade Mr Cameron but, if that failed, he would defend the EU eloquently before the court of British public opinion. Though Mr Blair’s presence in Brussels would provoke eurosceptics, many Britons might start to see that the EU is not an anti-British project.

Is Grant serious? Really, it’s pretty unlikely that Cameron is going to do a wholesale walkback on EU policies, although the right fringe of the party would clearly like him to. But Cameron knows his only real chance of winning the election is to appeal to the middle swath of the electorate, and they’re not particularly unhappy with EC regulations—they know they’ve benefited from them. And why does Grant think that Blair would “defend the EU eloquently before the court of British public opinion?" He’s certainly shown no inclination to do so up to now.

Really, this is fatuous nonsense. Blair has shown no real interest in policy other than floating above it. His grasp of issues is superficial. His response to crises has generally been to do the wrong thing. This was amply demonstrated long before Iraq by his response to the Foot and Mouth crisis, where he ignored the correct scientific advice, and took "personal charge" of the disaster, with catastrophic results for British farming. Iraq , of course, is a known quantity at this point, and there is little Blair can achieve now that will undo the wreckage of that disaster. And he was the enabler—yes, Bush and Rumsfeld and Cheney couldn’t wait to have their war, but it wouldn’t have happened without Blair’s support.

Blair’s continued popularity in the US isn’t really a surprise—he’s widely admired, I know, although not for particularly good reasons. What I can’t decided is whether there is widespread support for Blair outside the UK, or if this is just a British thing—hey, look, another one makes good! Blair is personable, attractive, energetic, and articulate, and he’s gotten pretty far on these attributes. But he has caused the world quite a lot of damage with his piety and self-righteousness and moral cowardice. President of the EU? He hasn’t earned it, and he doesn’t deserve it. And Europe can do better. Chris Patten, for example.