Society

After Mid-Staffs, the NHS needs whistleblowers – and whistleblowers need protection from the public

It is impossible, I would have thought, to have heard Debbie Hazledine’s account on the Today programme of her late mother’s mistreatment at Mid Staffs Hospital and not to have thought ill of the hospital in question. An institution in which such callousness thrived for so long must have few friends left, you might imagine. And yet the strangest thing about the Mid Staffs scandal is the defensive feeling it has inspired. The ‘Save Mid Staffs’ campaign has been vocal at points, while Julie Bailey, the Mid Staffs whistleblower, appears to have been persecuted. In front of this backdrop, a debate about what should happen to wards in failing hospitals has morphed into a full-on slanging

Why Britain needs Prince Charles

This week’s issue of Country Life magazine has been guest-edited by the Prince of Wales. As long term perspectives disappear from national debate, we should all be grateful for his presence in public life, says Ben Goldsmith. It is hard to name an area of modern life which has not been overcome by short-term considerations. Companies sacrifice long-term growth for their quarterly financial reports, politicians are blind beyond the next election, and the attention span of rolling news channels is shorter than ever. In cricket, the deep satisfaction of a five-day Test Match is threatened by one day or even shorter match formats. Long termism speaks with a quiet voice; a voice that has been all but obliterated. The Prince of

Denis MacShane pleads guilty to expenses fraud

The expenses continues to cast a long shadow. Denis MacShane entered a guilty plea at the Old Bailey this morning. As the Press Association reports: ‘The ex-MP admitted false accounting by putting in fake receipts for £12,900 of “research and translation” services. He used the money to fund trips to Europe, including to judge a literary competition in Paris.’ MacShane will be sentenced on 19 December, and he has been granted unconditional bail. All sentencing options remain open to the court. MacShane says that he did not profit personally from the claims; but concedes that he made a ‘grotesque mistake’.

Kate Maltby

‘A Radical Imagination’ – Doris Lessing in the Spectator

Doris Lessing’s obituaries, as much as her writings, bear witness  to the great turbulences of the twentieth century. How many of us spent our childhood in two countries which have both since changed their names? But ‘exotic’ was the last word Lessing would have used to describe herself: ‘I am 85, an Englishwoman (with Scottish and Irish tinctures) living in London‘, she insisted in one tart correspondence in our letters page. Though happy to pose as a mere correspondent several times over the course of forty years (oh, to crack her username at CoffeeHouse comments!), the Nobel winner was also a regular Spectator contributor. Exploring her archive left me queasy

David Cameron’s crackdown on child porn is not over yet

Parliament returns from a three day break today, but the headlines this morning are dominated by the international crackdown on online images of child abuse on the ‘dark internet’. Technology companies have made significant progress since July, when David Cameron urged them to do more to eradicate these ‘depraved and disgusting’ images. For example, 200 employees of Google have been targeting 100,000 search terms in order to locate pictures of child pornography. YouTube engineers have found a way to identify videos created by and for paedophiles, and Google and Microsoft have been collaborating to identify pictures of child pornography. This announcement has come before a meeting in Downing Street about joint

The genius of Doris Lessing 1919-2013

Doris Lessing died this morning, aged 94. The below is from the Spectator’s archives. Doris Lessing’s Nobel win came as a surprise to everyone, the author apparently included. Despite her enormous, decades-long international reputation, she was less fancied than dozens of patently smaller writers. That could only have been ascribed to a cynical estimate of the way the Swedish academy works. On literary merit, no one would have questioned her right to it. She is one of the greatest of novelists in English. Her career is a matter of savage breakthroughs into quite new territory, as if her searching, sceptical intelligence could never be satisfied with stasis for long. It

James Forsyth

There’s no point in just outsourcing our CO2 emissions

The global warming question is back on the political agenda with David Cameron likening cutting greenhouse gas emissions to house insurance. His argument is that if there’s a risk that they may be harmful, you want to guard against it. But given that ‘global warming’ is no respected of national boundaries, one thing that isn’t sensible is to simply send energy intensive industries and their jobs and profits overseas. But this is just what the EU is doing, according to Bjørn Lomborg. He reports that: ‘From 1990 to 2008, the EU cut its emissions by about 270 million metric tons of CO2. But it turns out that the increase in

Spectator competition: compose some wintry nonsense

Our competition this week invites you to submit nonsense verse on a wintry theme. The line between sense and nonsense is a blurred one. In his Spectator review of Geoffrey Grigson’s Faber anthology of nonsense verse, Anthony Burgess encapsulated this nicely, noting that Mr Grigson ‘wisely evades, in his preface, anything like a definition of nonsense. He knows that we will only know what nonsense is when we know the nature of sense. Nonsense is something we think we can recognise, just as we think we can recognise poetry, but there has to be an overlap with what we think we can recognise as sense.’ A good way to get yourself in

Sachin Tendulkar is among the very greatest sportsmen, but heroes are made to be surpassed

It was the sort of summer’s day that makes you glad to be alive; but we were watching the telly. We would not normally do this. If the weather was fine, we would play games of catch on the lawn: my 4-year-old self hurling any object that came to hand at my 78-year-old grandfather. The old man would leap about for my amusement, often careering into my parents’ sacred flower beds. He would pooh-pooh my father’s concerns about the wisdom of these exertions, and ignore my grandmother’s distress over the ruin of ‘yet another pair of trousers’. My delight would urge him to even greater theatrics when their backs were

Camilla Swift

Let us eat horse

Could creating a UK market for horsemeat be the solution to the increasing number of equine welfare cases? This was the question posed by Princess Anne yesterday at World Horse Welfare’s annual conference. The former Olympic eventer argued that creating a horsemeat market, and thereby adding a financial value to many horses, would most likely improve the level of care that they currently receive. Unsurprisingly, Princess Anne’s comments have upset certain groups such as the RSPCA and Peta, with the RSPCA saying in a statement that ‘the killing of horses for meat is an emotive subject, as many see them as companion animals rather than a food source, a sentiment

Carola Binney

Rowing at university is most fun when there’s no rowing

I remember telling my friends that I was going to row at Oxford. I could picture myself in flattering Magdalen College Boat Club lycra, a rosy glow on my cheeks as I enjoyed boat-based camaraderie with my team mates on a crisp spring morning. I didn’t even make it to the river. After a week of leaving grimy gyms with sore muscles and a sense of inadequacy, I jumped ship. My only contact with the sport since has been bumping into the rowers on my corridor on the way to the shower, on the rare occasions when I’m up before 10. Back from their 6am appointments with frostbite on the

Poinsettias are just one victim of the energy crisis. Who’ll be next?

‘For millions of families’, the Telegraph reports today, poinsettia ‘is as much a festive favourite as turkey and Christmas trees’. Which is odd given that they’re tropical plants which like to be grown at a balmy 20 degrees. But we can expect fewer of them this year because the UK energy crisis means energy bills are up by almost a third for some growers this year. The plants aren’t worth heating. We could see a million fewer of them grown here this Christmas than five years ago, so suppliers are having to bring in lower-quality stock from the continent to meet demand. Will Ed Miliband pledge a price freeze on poinsettias? And show

The Muslim Brotherhood thrives in Britain

The Muslim Brotherhood aren’t doing so well in Egypt at the moment. Happily they are making some gains in Britain. On Tuesday the organisation’s dauphin – Tariq Ramadan, famous Islamist ideas man, grandson of the Brotherhood’s founder and prominent double-speaker gave the Orwell prize’s annual ‘Orwell lecture’. I wonder which direction Orwell’s body is spinning in? And elsewhere, at London’s SOAS (the School of Oriental and African Studies, better known as the School of Organised Anti-Semitism) a speaker who is opposed to the Muslim Brotherhood was chased from the stage by Muslim Brotherhoood supporters. It is worth watching the video of what turned into an Islamist rally just to remind

The return of the family doctor?

Ministers have described the deal on GP contracts, negotiated by the government and the British Medical Association (BMA), as a return to the days when GPs were family doctors. Certainly, it is a step in that direction. The contract, which will come into force next April, revives the personal link between doctor and patients aged 75 or over, and makes GPs responsible for out of hours care. The Department of Health says that GPs will also be: offering patients same-day telephone consultations; offering paramedics, A&E doctors and care homes a dedicated telephone line so they can advise on treatment; coordinating care for elderly patients discharged from A&E; regularly reviewing emergency

Sanjuro

In Kurosawa’s samurai warrior classic Sanjuro, the hero, a wandering Ronin played by Toshiro Mifune, ends the film in a face-off with his mortal enemy Hanbei Muroto. For a long moment the two martial swordsmen face each other in total immobility. Then, in a flash, a movement known by Samurai as Debana-Waza, Mifune slices his opponent in two, creating a violent fountain of blood.   There is an analogy to be made with the world chess championship, currently in progress in Chennai. After two quiet draws, the players are in a Debana-Waza state of immobile preparation, while awaiting the sudden stroke that will break the deadlock and propel one of the two

No. 292

White to play. This position is from Anand-Ding Liren, Alekhine Memorial, Paris 2013. White’s next destroyed the already compromised black position. What did he play? Answers to me at The Spectator by Tuesday 19 November or via email to victoria@spectator.co.uk or by fax on 020 7681 3773. The winner will be the first correct answer out of a hat, and each week I shall be offering a prize of £20. Please include a postal address and allow six weeks for prize delivery.   Last week’s solution 1 Rxa7 Last week’s winner Guy Faithful, Hove, East Sussex

Barometer: David Dimbleby is not alone (unfortunately)

Whose tattoos? David Dimbleby, 75, has had a scorpion tattooed on his right shoulder. Some more tattoo-wearers who perhaps ought to know better: —  Lady Steel, 71, wife of former liberal leader David Steel (pink jaguar on left shoulder). — Vanessa Feltz, 51 (photographed with Bob Marley on left arm, although it’s not known to be permanent). — Vladimir Franz, 54, composer and university professor who came fifth in this year’s Czech presidential elections (entire face covered with swirling motifs). — John Fetterman, mayor of Braddock, Pennsylvania (town’s postcode on his left forearm; dates of five murders in the town on his right). — 21% of US adults, according to

Tanya Gold

Boulestin has nothing to do with Marcel Boulestin — but could entice Mary Berry

Boulestin is a pretty restaurant on St James’s Street, between the posh fag shop (Davidoff) and the old palace, which the Hanoverians thought so ghastly that they moved out to Kensington Gardens, a fresher hell full of squirrels. This is one of the more fascinating West End streets because it is 300 years old and is, as such, the only street in the West End in which the ancient nobility look safe, or even human; you pass tourists, rats and also dukes wafting towards White’s gentlemen’s club, which is duchess-free and where a grown man can be treated like a baby, and not in a perverted way. So Boulestin, named