We need to protect our elderly people

by Luke Bishop

THE old cliché goes ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’. But what if something crucially important for all our futures is broken, is acknowledged to be broken and yet we still refuse to do anything about it? Such is the case with adult social care in England, unfair and inconsistent even before the cuts, and now threatening to get very much worse.

Old age should be a blessing. It should be the time when you are rewarded for the hard work you have put into the previous 40 to 50 years. Of course, it can also be a time of steep physical and mental decline, and this should be acknowledged in the way we help the elderly by supporting their ability to care for themselves, whether it be by delivering a meal or helping them wash and bathe. What many face however is an old age fraught with uncertainty, loneliness, isolation and financial ruin.

The main problem about adult social care is that the way of funding and delivering it has not changed significantly since the 1970s. Over that time that time the Cold War has ended, industries privatised, successive governments have come and gone, the internet has changed the world and, most crucially, advances in medical science and healthcare have meant more of us are living for longer. Not one administration, however, has seen fit to change the way in which our vulnerable and elderly are cared for.

As you would expect from a system which hasn’t changed in a generation there are dreadful archaisms. The threshold by which people have to pay for all their care is currently £23,250 in assets – if they have more than this they receive no state support. Bearing in mind that these assets include owned property and pension funds, we are talking about rather modest amounts of money, meaning that only the very poorest of pensioners are exempt. There is also no upper limit for how much they would have to pay towards their care, which means their modest means, all that they had worked for and saved, would be drained off.

There is also little consistency as to what “state support” as provided by the local authority entails. Unlike education, health, or even bin collection, there is scandalously little in the way of statutory requirements when it comes to adult social care. One local authority could provide the bare minimum – a 15-minute session a day to help an elderly person have a quick wash. Another council might provide two hourly sessions (one in the morning, one in the evening) where you are helped with washing and dressing, cooked a meal, helped to go to the toilet and, maybe, you will even be sat down with for a while for a chat. Such blatant inconsistency would be scandalous in education or healthcare.

This system has groaned on for a quarter-of-a-century, but it is so imperative now because of the cuts. As adult social care is not well protected by statute, it remains the largest discretionary area for local authority budgets. In other words, if cuts are to be made, it’s far less of a headache to take it from this area than heavily safeguarded education. The consequences could be that the majority of councils will be providing a poor quality bare minimum.

There’s evidence that councils are even using more underhand methods to shirk their responsibilities by resetting eligibility criteria and refusing to give proper assessments of needs. Some have been successfully challenged, for example, last November two severely disabled adults won a court case against Isle of Wight council in which the Judge ruled the changes to adult social care were unlawful, but there are many less dramatic cases which are harder to challenge.

There could be real human consequences to such negligence. An elderly person who has been unable to secure help bathing might slip and break a hip and end up in hospital, perhaps never to return home or to be discharged out of hospital into a care home. They may have to sell their home and many of their possessions in order to afford the cost of care.

A very clear solution has been offered to this government from the Dilnot Commission, which suggests simple things such as raising the threshold by which people have to pay for care and introducing a cap. This would save many elderly people financial ruin at a time when they should be enjoying the fruits of their labour. It also suggests overall consistency, transparency and ease of use that the piecemeal current system starkly lacks. The costs of implementation are estimated to add £1.7 billion to the social care bill per year, but the long term savings would be inestimably more.

Despite being offered such a strong case and a practical plan for social care which was indeed commissioned by the current administration, the government line has been not particularly committed so far. It rather blandly ‘welcomed’ the proposals while having concerns over the hefty price tag which accompanied it. During Prime Minister’s Questions on January 11 David Cameron stated that “we must do something about the rising costs of domiciliary care, improve the quality of the care that people receive, and address the issue of people having to sell their homes and all their assets to pay for care”. But he added the crucial qualifier that a change in system must be one that the country “could afford”.

The powers of short-termism and political necessity have the ability to seriously scupper these sensible solutions and make them come to naught. In a time when the Conservatives seem ideologically attached to austerity despite the human cost, the price tag attached to change may be anathema to them. However, the long-term savings make the Dilnot proposals worthwhile, and if the government incorporates them into its upcoming social care bill the fact that it helped fix care for the elderly and disabled will be remembered long after the anger over cuts has subsided.

The Conservative MP John Redwood made throw-away comments to the Today programme about the Dilnot proposals being too concerned with protecting children’s inheritance. This is nonsense, it’s about protecting those whose shoulders we stand on, making sure their final years and decades are as comfortable as possible and not one of isolation and misery. The government needs to take on board the simple suggestions and fix a system that has been crying out for change for decades. At least they can’t say they’ve never been told.

What’s in a byline?

by Melanie Hall

JOURNALISTS are often told how important it is to have a “personal brand” in order to get your name out there. But what happens if your name changes? Does the journalist then have to start from scratch, with their former byline disappearing and taking their “brand” with it?

Essentially that’s the question female journalists have to face if they get married – do they decide to take on their partner’s surname in their professional dealings, and run the risk that people will think they disappeared off the face of the earth, byline-speaking?

It’s for this reason that I imagine a number of female journalists opt to stick with their maiden name when it comes to what goes on the top of their articles. It’s certainly a lot easier, and there’s no messing around with having to explain to contacts or sub-editors that you’re the same person, you haven’t disappeared anywhere or metamorphosed into another creature overnight, you just so happen to have got hitched.

Personally, I reckon sticking with one’s maiden name as a journalist is definitely the way forward – it’s easier, less hassle, and above all, if you’ve managed to build up a name for yourself in a certain field, you won’t lose that named identity you’ve worked so hard to foster.

Of course there’s nothing wrong with choosing to take on a partner’s surname in professional dealings – but if you’re going to do an Elizabeth Taylor and make your way through several hubbies, there are going to be some confused sub-editors around.

Then again, getting the right byline isn’t always a prerogative for every sub, unfortunately – I know of one sub-editor who, on having it pointed out to him that he had put the wrong byline on top of a story, replied that it didn’t matter whose name was on the top of a story, adding: “It’s only a design thing anyway”. Tell that to the journalist who’s worked hard on that story, only to have the credit given to someone else.

Anyway, another issue struck me as well – what if two journalists in the same country have exactly the same name? Is it a problem? One answer could be to stick an initial into your name, to differentiate it. Three might be pushing it, though – I’m not sure a name like JRR Tolkien as a byline would look that great.

Either way, it wouldn’t be as unfortunate as being threatened with legal action because of the name your parents gave you at birth – take the case of reporter Bill Wyman, who received a letter from lawyers telling him to “cease and desist” from using his own name. This was because lawyers for a certain Rolling Stones bass player of the same name thought it was “a seriously misleading and arguably intentional, unauthorized exploitation of our client’s name”.

Ironically, the Rolling Stones’ Bill Wyman wasn’t even born with that name – he was born William Perks, and changed his name to Bill Wyman three years after the journalist Wyman was born.

This piece first appeared at melanie-hall.co.uk

Ani Difranco @ Concorde 2, Brighton

by Sam Blackledge

ANI Difranco has been through enough re-inventions and reincarnations over the last two decades to give David Bowie a run for his money. From her debut as a wide-eyed, shaven-headed 20-year-old, through the tortured, angsty mid-90s and into a more mellow middle age, the self-proclaimed “righteous babe” has been a chameleon of the folk world. It is fitting that Bowie’s 65th birthday saw Difranco kick off 2012 in style with an intimate solo gig on Brighton’s seafront.

Home-grown pianist Carly Bryant opened the show, nervously smiling her way through a charming set, her cover of Blossom Dearie’s Tout Doucement bringing to mind Fiona Apple and Charlotte Gainsbourg. Difranco then bounded on stage to storm through a selection of her vast repertoire, which she performs with as much skill and gusto as ever.

Songs from her new record Which Side Are You On?, her 17th studio album, sound fresh and intricate, and add to the overall reflective theme of the evening. After a career of brutal honesty on the themes of sexuality, relationships and heartbreak, Difranco seems to be reluctantly enjoying looking back at her younger self.

Now married for the second time and mother to a four-year-old daughter, she speaks of feeling settled and at peace with herself, and visibly cringes at the raging introspection of her early work.

But that’s not to say that the 41-year-old has lost her edge. Her thirst for political change is as strong as ever, as she speaks passionately about the Occupy movements and her frustration at creaking democracy on both sides of the Atlantic. On Promiscuity, a stand-out track from the new record, Difranco smirks: “How you gonna know what you need, what you like / till you been around the block a few times on that bike?”

It’s a lyric that is at once self-aware, cheeky, bold and mature, and it sums up the present mindset of this remarkable performer. “It’s nice to see you smiling,” a member of the audience shouts during a break in the action. “Yeah, it’s nice to be happy again,” Difranco replies. “It’s taken me a while.”

This piece first appeared at For Folk’s Sake.

Let’s not confuse morality with religion

by Luke Bishop

IT’S such an odd juxtaposition that it might almost seem like the work of the divine. On the day after Christopher Hitchens, one of Britain’s most vociferous proponents of societal secularisation, died, the Prime Minister reaffirmed the UK as a “Christian country” and defended Christianity as instituting “a set of values and morals which make Britain what it is today”.

He said this at a ceremony commemorating the 400th anniversary of the production of the King James’ Bible, a book which has undoubtedly had a profound impact on British cultural history. It is also a book which contains many statements which are undeniable in their moral simplicity and which any good member of society would agree with – Thou shalt not kill, Love thy neighbour and the golden rule of Do unto others.

All of these are fine sentiments. So why do I disagree with what Cameron says about Christianity being able to bridge the moral chasm which many believe has prized apart modern Britain? Because, if you will excuse a little blasphemy, the devil is in the detail.

Morality is universal, religion is divisive. The examples given above are the type of moral statements people of any faith (or lack thereof) could and should abide by. But why should we have to take on a whole and expansive set of creeds for these to be relevant? Do we really need to believe that a wise man who lived 2,000 years ago was really the son of God and saviour of mankind in order to take on board such moral truths and try and enact them in our lives?

The major divisions between and within religion has always been a matter of detail and its interpretation. Thou shalt not kill is as unequivocal as it gets. Yet Europeans were willing to burn each other to death throughout the 16^th and 17^th centuries over the question of whether it was our faith in God or our good acts in life that was the major contributor towards the salvation of our souls.

Even differences between Christianity and the other two monotheistic religions could be considered just a matter of interpretation over who our saviour is and whether they have arrived yet. Yet I’m sure most clerics from all three faiths would, at heart, agree on the basic moral principles common to each.

If Christopher Hitchens had lived a little longer I’m sure he’d have reacted to Cameron’s speech with a mixture of disgust, amusement and giddy joy as he composed a stinging riposte to one of the most direct declarations of religious faith from a British Prime Minister in a decade. In a country where Tony Blair could only really ‘come out’ as a committed Christian after he had left office, David Cameron has burdened himself with the cross early into his term.

While Hitchens may have poured scorn on Cameron it is more a cause for concern than anger. By so clearly linking morality to religious belief the Prime Minister suggests that there can be no alternatives, that secularism and the faithless society it has created is bound to be morally deficient because it has nothing to strive for, no higher power to answer to.

Certainly, nihilistic thought and behaviour can be a consequence of lack of faith but, then again, in the humanist ideal faith in the divine is replaced with faith in humanity, the belief that we should be good to each other because it is the right thing to do in and of itself. Not because such behaviour is divinely approved or because we fear supernatural wrath through breaking the moral code.

Cameron was not utterly wrong to recognise that Christianity, and by extension religion, can be a force for good. Nor, from a purely historical perspective, can he be denied his point about the religion and the King James Bible’s cultural impact, for better or worse. His speech rightly recognises the common phrases and idioms it has bequeathed to the English language. He even recognised the delicious irony that a book sanctioned by the King and Church of England would be used to justify a royal execution and the dismantling of the established church following the English Civil War. But recognising the historical debt of the King James Bible, shouldn’t be confused with relevance.

Whatever the moral malaise we find ourselves currently suffering from, Christianity can no longer be the sole answer. The lifestyle changes, scientific advances and expanded cultural and intellectual horizons of modern life have, unsurprisingly, left a 2,000-year-old book out of step and unable to guide us through the moral maze of our times. It’s time to recognise this basic fact.

Bing’s speech

“I haven’t got a speech, I didn’t plan words, I didn’t even try to, I just knew I had to get here, to stand here and I knew I wanted you to listen, to really listen. Not just pull a face like you’re listening, like you do the rest of the time, a face that you’re feeling instead of processing.

“You pull a face and poke it towards the stage, and we lah-di-dah, we sing and dance and tumble around. And all you see up here, it’s not people, you don’t see people up here, it’s all fodder. And the faker the fodder, the more you love it, because fake fodder’s the only thing that works any more. Fake fodder is all we can stomach. Actually, not quite all; real pain, real viciousness, that, we can take.”

“Yeah, stick a fat man up a pole and we’ll laugh ourselves feral, because we’ve earned the right. We’ve done cell time and he’s slacking, the scum, so ha-ha-ha at him! Because we’re so out of our minds with desperation, we don’t know any better. All we know is fake fodder and buying shit. That’s how we speak to each other, how we express ourselves is buying shit.”

“What, I have a dream? The peak of our dreams is a new app for our Dopple, it doesn’t exist! It’s not even there! We buy shit that’s not even there. Show us something real and free and beautiful. You couldn’t. Yeah? It’ll break us. We’re too numb for it. I might as well choke. There’s only so much wonder we can bear. That’s why when you find any wonder whatsoever, you dole it out in meagre portions.”

“And only then until it’s augmented, and packaged, and plumped through 10,000 pre-assigned filters till it’s nothing more than a meaningless series of lights, while we ride day in day out, going where? Powering what? All tiny cells and tiny screens and bigger cells and bigger screens and fuckk you!”

“Fuckk you, that’s what it boils down to. It’s fuckk you. Fuck you for sitting there and slowly making things worse. Fuckk you and your spotlight and your sanctimonious faces. Fuckk you all for taking the one thing I ever came close to anything real that every meant anything. For oozing around it and crushing it into a bone, into a joke. One more ugly joke in a kingdom of millions. Fuckk you for happening. Fuckk you for me, for us, for everyone. Fuck you!”

Black Mirror

Family of murdered private investigator vow to keep fighting

by Sam Blackledge

ALASTAIR Morgan lives on the top floor of a high-rise building in north London, shielded by a network of locks, lifts, intercoms and buzzers. It makes him feel safe, he explains, since he has developed a habit of asking difficult questions about potentially dangerous people.

In March 1987 his brother, private investigator Daniel, was found dead in a car park in Sydenham with an axe embedded in his head. 24 years later Alastair is still searching for answers, a quest that began just hours after what has become one of Britain’s most notorious unsolved murders.

He immediately sought out Daniel’s business partner, Jonathan Rees, later named as one of the prime suspects, before speaking to the police, visiting the murder scene and quizzing his brother’s friends and associates.

“I think I went into a state of emergency,” Alastair says. “I had to stay alert, I had to keep my eyes open. I kind of suppressed everything.”

“I was crying in private but it was as though my emotions were numbed and just my head was working.”

The following month Rees, his brothers-in-law Gary and Glen Vian and three police officers were arrested in connection with the murder but released without charge – a pattern that would become all too familiar over the next two decades.

We head to a nearby café where Alastair, 62, looks back on his childhood in Wales, a time before life became consumed with bringing the killers to justice and exposing what he sees as a tangled web of lies and cover-ups.

“I was Daniel’s older brother, there were 11 months between us,” he says. “We shared a room, so I knew him pretty well. He was just my pesky kid brother. He was quite a gregarious, outgoing sort, he liked people.” The pair went their separate ways in their early 20s – Alastair to Sweden and Daniel to agricultural college – and started their own families, but always kept in touch.

When Daniel was murdered, Alastair’s life changed overnight and he has dedicated himself to searching for the truth ever since – lobbying MPs, giving interviews, attending court hearings, even dealing with death threats.

Alastair Morgan

Alastair’s Scandinavian background allows him to work from home as a translator, which gives him time to run the campaign, reading, researching, blogging and tweeting, which he says has become like a full-time job.

“There have been many, many bad days, bad weeks and bad months,” he says. “I feel that almost every time the police have done any investigation we have been left in a worse position than when they started. We have found out more about police corruption on each occasion and the situation looks worse and worse each time.”

The most recent inquiry looked like it would finally result in a trial, until the case collapsed again in March. A possible motive had emerged – that Daniel was preparing to expose a network of crooked police officers with links to his PI firm – and the Metropolitan Police admitted corruption had scuppered the initial investigation. But the family was told it was unlikely anyone would ever be convicted.

“It was like a slow-motion car crash,” Alastair says. “I just thought ’24 years of my life I have been fighting for this and it has gone again.’”

Alastair and Daniel’s mother, Isobel Hulsmann, has been just as vocal as her eldest son in calling for all the evidence to be reviewed and for the Government to meet with the family.

The 83-year-old, who lives in Hay-On-Wye, said: “My God, I have put some fight into this. It has been hard going, because I have been living off the state all these years.
“I think Daniel would be proud but I don’t think he would have wanted us to suffer so much. It has been so cruel and twisted and dirty and grubby. This has not been a straightforward case, but it has been made more complex than it should have been.”
She added: “We have pursued this with vigour, vitriol and anger. We cannot give up.”

The case was thrust back into the spotlight in the summer with new evidence that the News of the World may have interfered with the original investigation, and the family believe they have been victims of phone and computer hacking.

Along with pressing for a judicial hearing, Alastair has now turned his attention to the Leveson inquiry, which offers daily revelations about alleged corruption and illegal practices within the tabloid press. He speaks passionately and emotionally about how much he has learned since 1987 and says a culture of corruption remains within public institutions.

“I am very distrustful of authority and I think with good reason,” he says. “I have realised that our democracy is far more stunted and emaciated than I believed.

“I have given up hope of any convictions. It has been so messed up, I don’t think anybody will ever stand trial for Daniel’s murder. But the way this has been dealt with by the police and their relationship with the News of the World needs more probing.

“Daniel is gone now and nothing is going to bring him back. It has become bigger than that.”

www.justice4daniel.org
www.mybrodan.blogspot.com

Live review: Bon Iver at Hammersmith Apollo

by Emily Friend

OKAY so let’s just get this straight: there is more than just one man in Bon Iver. Everyone seems fixated on Justin Vernon, frontman and “face” of the band, but seeing them live was a real eye-opener. There were nine of them. NINE. From percussionists to a bloke with a huge saxophone, Bon Iver is clearly more than just one man. Admittedly, Mr Vernon took centre stage, but it was never The Justin Vernon Show… far from it.

The band are touring their eponymous second album to a crowd who don’t seem overly familiar with it. They lap up the old stuff like a comforting milky drink, but seemed to get a bit restless during newer tracks, which I felt was a shame.

Obviously it was classics such as ‘Skinny Love’ and ‘Wolves’ that the audience was waiting for, as a hush came over the crowd as soon as the opening chords were strummed.

My highlights were Colin Stetson’s awesome circular-breathing-fest of a solo along with the 80s-inspired album track ‘Beth/Rest’, and the beautiful horn-filled ‘Towers’.

We must admit that ‘Skinny Love’ was bloody brilliant – they cleverly found a way to include the other 8 band members in a track that is in essence just good old Justin and his guitar. Getting the rest of the gang to clap and sing in the background gave the song a touching sort of team spirit vibe… I saw much weeping across the circle seats. (Oddly, my personal tearjerker was ‘Flume’… started with incredibly touching solo acoustic guitar and vocals.)

Another thing: the Hammersmith Apollo have got some serious issues with circle seating. I chose to buy seated circle tickets as I imagined that a Bon Iver gig is the sort of place that you fancy a bit of a sit down whilst weeping quietly into your lap.  I’m sorry to say that most of the weeping we did stemmed from the fact that I was allocated circle standing tickets… aka standing at the back. I wouldn’t have let this dampen my spirits if there had actually been space to stand there… due to overcrowding we opted for sitting in the aisle. Error.

Not only did the beer man keep parading up and down the aisle with his stupid beer backpack and flag but, for some reason, the other audience members just couldn’t sit still. This meant that some of my weeping wasn’t due to the beautiful sounds floating up to me from the stage, but due to being trampled on by brogue-footed men en-route to the toilet… not cool.

Hammersmith Apollo, I have not lost faith in you yet. The situation was salvaged by some of the best lighting I have seen at a gig in years (if only I could have captured this on camera… from the back) ranging from a stark theatrical wash to a multi-layered red and blue state that seriously convinced me that we were in fact watching a very talented 3D hologram rather than nine real human beings playing their hearts out.

The venue’s pros and cons aside, Bon Iver were breathtaking and beautiful, and I can’t wait to see them again (without the beer man).

This piece first appeared at For Folk’s Sake.

The PCC still has a part to play in local press

by Sam Blackledge

LAST month I wrote a piece for the Dorking Advertiser about thieves stealing industrial hemp in the mistaken belief they had discovered fields of cannabis. It was a strong story for a weekly paper in a rural district, combining the three key elements of bungling criminals, disgruntled farmers and illegal substances. Unfortunately, not everyone saw the funny side.

An angry phone call and a couple of strongly-worded letters followed from the wife of a farmer I had spoken to. She claimed that she had not agreed to be named or quoted and that we had breached the Press Complaints Commission Code on clause 1 (accuracy) and clause 3 (privacy). The PCC has now ruled in our favour, stating that there was no breach of the code.

The case raises an interesting point about who holds the power in exchanges between journalists and sources. If a reporter calls you and tells you he is working on a story about a particular issue, should he be required to ask your consent before publishing your comments? Or is the burden on the subject to make it clear that the conversation is “off the record”?

The PCC code is typically hazy on this. It states that “the press must take care not to publish inaccurate, misleading or distorted information”, and that “everyone is entitled to respect for his or her private and family life”.

A further clause, which covers the dramatic-sounding subject of “clandestine devices and subterfuge”, is perhaps more relevant. It states that reporters must avoid “engaging in misrepresentation” except in the public interest.

We were confident that the commission would rule in our favour as we had acted within the code (though we removed the offending section from the story on our website). I had identified myself as a journalist, said I was working on a story about a particular issue and noted down the complainant’s comments.

She told me I would be better off speaking to her husband, but my deadline was approaching and he was unavailable. At no stage during our three conversations did she indicate that she did not want to be quoted or named.

The PCC ruling sums it up: “In terms of the complainant being unaware that the journalist would quote her, the commission made clear that it has previously issued guidance in this area which states that ‘people should be aware that if they speak to a journalist and do not categorically state that the conversion is ‘off the record’, it may well be regarded as ‘on the record”.

“In this instance, the reporter had not informed the complainant that he intended to quote her but, equally, the complainant – while making clear that another individual may be better placed to comment – had not stated that she had no wish to be quoted.”

While it is not in the same realm as hacking phones, stalking politicians or exposing diplomatic cables, this could set a powerful precedent for the future of news reporting. All too often people make statements which they later regret when they appear in print, and much of the time they will go to the PCC in an attempt to save face.

The press regulator has taken its fair share of knocks in recent months and may not be around in its current form for much longer, but it is nice to get a reminder that the code is not just a stick with which to beat the press. It can also act as a useful mediator, a calm voice among the hysteria that threatens to overwhelm newsrooms as tensions run high.

Most local news reporters are honest, professional people who have no political axe to grind and work hard to operate within the rules. But next time you pick up the phone to us, be careful what you say. It’s on the record.

This piece first appeared at The Guardian.

National pride hangs on sporting glory

By Luke Bishop

ON checking Facebook and Twitter on Saturday morning I was confronted with an array of outraged posts and tweets. There were people declaring they would give up their citizenship, condemning the country where they were born and brought up in the most vehement of terms, while others were just wearily resigned to pointing out how awful the place was.

What caused this display of national self-loathing you ask? Had we finally launched a nuclear missile at Iran, annihilating hundreds of thousands of innocent Tehranis? Had we started a greedy, pre-emptive war against a country on false grounds? Had a sex-slave ring been discovered at 10 Downing Street? Or, perish the thought, had The Enemy been allowed to release another album? Alas none of the above turned out to be the cause for this extraordinary bout of teeth gnashing. Instead it turns out that a bunch of blokes who happen to share the same geographic boundaries as us didn’t kick, throw, or tackle as well as another bunch of blokes who happen to be from a different geographical area (although, most unfortunately, that area was France).

Behind all this jollity lies a serious point – if England’s national pride is so dependent on how well a bunch of men happen to kick a ball, or throw it, or hit it with a plank of wood, then what does that say about the state of our national pride? Almost every major sporting fixture or tournament involving the English national team rides a crescendo of national self-worth, the belief that this time it might be ours for the taking, that we as a team, as a country, are up to the challenge. This is inevitably followed by the crash of abject disappointment that comes when expectation and reality fail to meet. It has developed into an exceedingly unhealthy form of nationalism.Too much is invested in too few people who, despite tabloid dross about them being “role models”, are mostly arrogant young men with too much money and attention and who act accordingly. We burden these extremely faulty human beings with our collective hopes and yet blame them, and ourselves, when they happen to disappoint. And so we are left with a very reactive and fatalistic form of nationalism.How we feel about the place in which we live, work and exist is hinged on a game of chance, played by people we don’t know and certainly didn’t choose. If we win we’ll pat ourselves and each other on the back for something we didn’t achieve, if we lose it’s just confirmation of how terrible it all is. Sport is something people get passionate about and shouldn’t be dismissed completely, but there are much better ways to feel good about this country than the outcome of a game of rugby.

Sexist ads are no laughing matter in Brazil

by Thais Porthilo-Shrimpton

The Brazilian government department for policies for women took action this week against a series of lingerie ads starring supermodel Gisele Bündchen, which it deemed “offensive and sexist”. In the ads, titled Hope Teaches, the model gives her husband bad news such as “honey, I’ve crashed the car” or “honey, I’ve reached the credit card limit … both mine and yours” – first fully dressed (which they teach viewers is wrong), then wearing tiny lingerie (which, according to Hope, is right). Essentially, women are taught to use their charm and sexy lingerie to control their husbands. Sigh.

Former football blogger Lila Salles, 31, a translator from Rio de Janeiro, thinks the ad is quite funny, despite being extremely sexist: “I don’t think calling for it to be banned was the best way of dealing with it. Perhaps another ad with a heartthrob wearing trunks in the same situation would be a nice payback and a more effective response than censoring it.” I agree with Lila, but I agree with the government too.

When Dilma Rousseff, the first-ever woman to become president of Brazil, was elected in October last year I was incredibly proud. For the first time, the country where I grew up officially recognised the value, competence and ability of a womanby choosing her to be its head of state. It was, after all, the country where I grew up being told to refrain from making comments about football (“women had nothing interesting to say about it”) and witnessing men make the most appallingly offensive remarks to and about women. It is the country where other advertisements are generally populated with half-naked attractive women, where women are encouraged to wear almost nothing during carnival, and where they very much struggle in the workplace to have the same opportunities and salaries as their male counterparts.

More importantly, it is the place where recent research figures show at least 43% of women have suffered from domestic violence and where 70 per cent of murder cases where victims are female relate to domestic violence. It was under president Lula da Silva that the department for policies for women was created in 2003. Iriny Lopes, the minister currently in charge of it, was appointed by Rousseff at the beginning of her term in January this year. Lopes drafted the Maria da Penha law five years ago, to offer protection to women who were victims or likely to become victims of domestic violence.

Despite Rousseff not making any statements herself about the calls to ban the ad, Lopes, when notifying the National Council for Advertising Self-regulation – an independent advertising regulatory body with a statutory backstop – of her wish to have the ads banned, she was most certainly echoing the president’s thoughts on the matter. Unfortunately, for a government faced with such horrendous numbers in the fight against violence that specifically affects women, the sexist, belittling message the ad carries is no laughing matter. Couple that with Brazil’s desperate attempts to drop its status as a sex tourism haven, and you have a seriously bleak picture of the situation of many women in that country.

As a stark defender of freedom of speech, I found it harsh that the government called for the ad to be banned, despite understanding their reasons behind it. At the same time, my stomach churns when I think educated Brazilian men and women working for advertising agencies still feel the need to portray our women as being dependent or fearful of their husbands, giving them a “good-humoured” solution to avoid a bollocking. I would like to see less scantily clad women in Brazilian media in general, as I believe that could potentially help us display our other attributes and earn more respect from our society. After all, we can undoubtedly be great journalists, academics, traders, teachers or entrepreneurs without having to don nothing but sexy lingerie to get to where we want.

Interestingly, I talked to 33-year-old lawyer and magistrate Miriam Rodrigues, from Rio de Janeiro, who thinks the ads are not offensive to women. In fact, in her opinion, they just show how easily manipulated some men can be: “To watch Gisele showing clearly that a clever woman can get anything from a man just by behaving in a sexy manner shows a sort of caveman quality that some guys have, and that intelligent women know how to take advantage of it.”

I disagree because, in my opinion, women should never have to undress to make a point, whatever that may be.

This piece first appeared at The Guardian.