Alan Turing doesn’t deserve a pardon

A lot of concern, some outrage, over the refusal to grant Alan Turing a pardon, yet this seems about right to me; not for the stated concern that he was properly convicted no matter how objectionable the law of the time, it’s more for what a pardon represents. A pardon is, to quote one definition, the “excuse or forgiveness for a fault, offense, or discourtesy”. Turing did nothing that requires forgiveness. I’m aware of the pardon in 2006 for the 306 soldiers shot during the First World War for cowardice, but I’d suggest this is different; we can excuse supposed acts of cowardice through exceptional circumstances or doubt about any guilt, without excusing the act itself. To pardon Alan Turing would amount to forgiving him for being homosexual and, having been treated so brutally, it’s the last thing he deserves.

I, hypocrite

I don’t know how many times I’ve despaired at the aggression shown on social media, whether via Twitter or blog, only to subsequently post something using less than friendly language; that or I’m too embarrassed to count. Consider this holier-than-thou missive over a year ago:

...who was ever persuaded through being boxed in and called an idiot?

Compared to my post of yesterday:

...one subject to unite the idiot left with the idiot right and all the idiots in-between...

In my defence I will argue that yesterday’s communication was provoked by a number of people of less than average intelligence. Also, it wasn’t directed at anyone specifically, but at you all. Also, I was in a bad mood. I shall then acquit myself in the hope it’s all part of my journey to discover whether I’m nice or nasty, or something like that. Nice, I hope, only I must try to steer clear from politics, as that’s asking for trouble.

Matter meets anti-matter

It’s not a good week to measure the collective common sense. David Cameron has scrambled to match Ed Miliband’s stupidity, though Ed - to be fair - is only catching the public mood. It started with the affair of one man’s windfall; Stephen Hester, the current CEO of RBS, received a bonus in shares worth around £1 million to go with his £1.2 million salary, and if there’s one subject to unite the idiot left with the idiot right and all the idiots in-between - which is a lot - it’s “fat cat” bankers. It’s a lot of money, but insignificant compared to the billions used to prop up the company. The question is whether we intend this change of ownership to be permanent, or one day hope to return RBS to the private sector. The idiot alliance (have I mentioned them?) would like to take the opportunity to rein-in “excessive” salaries - to save a million here and there; I’d rather we concentrated on recouping our £45 billion - and paid the going rate.

So a lynch-mob mentality ensured Hester waived his bonus, and political collusion ensured his predecessor would follow in the news. Fred Goodwin (as we must now call him) was stripped of a knighthood awarded in 2004, for the crash of RBS in 2008, in 2012. What a petty vindictive people we are to strip someone of an honour, not for committing a crime (for there wasn't one) but for making a mistake. A big mistake, but last I checked there was no monetary limit to a liberal outlook; no excess above which decent minded individuals are excused a pitch-fork wielding response. Peter Tatchell was on Channel 4 news last night suggesting key executives be accountable before the law, and was immediately backed up by some idiot (they're everywhere!) of a Tory MP. Yes, that Peter Tatchell.

In addition to being illiberal, he’s irresponsible. I think it’s usually in larger companies; an employee needs for something to happen, so asks a manager, who asks a manager, who asks another and so on. However much we might be tempted to think otherwise, it’s not a case of incompetence but one of managerial survival. It’s a condition that permeates throughout the workforce, who soon realise that whilst making a decision is preferable, making the wrong decision can cost you your career - and Tatchell (amongst others) would add a legal penalty too.

All companies take risks; for example, from what product to invest in to where they should open stores and how many people to employ. It’s all risk, and all risks (by definition) carry the possibility of failure. Some calculate it well, some badly, but one thing is certain, a company that doesn’t take risks - through fear of career or legal consequences - will atrophy. An economy that criminalises failure is itself destined to fail.

The worst of Bath

I'm on to Persuasion, Jane Austen’s last novel though only the second I’ve read. Of them all, this story has always been my favourite, being more introspective and darker than the rest. I remember two adaptations; a recent ITV production with Sally Hawkins and an older BBC effort with Amanda Root and Ciaran Hinds. It is - again - incredibly romantic; I can see why Austen has such a following. It’s bitingly funny too:

The worst of Bath was the number of plain women. He did not mean to say that there were no pretty women, but the number of plain was out of all proportion ... there certainly were a dreadful multitude of ugly women in Bath.

And sometimes, just biting:

He had, in fact, though his sisters were now doing all they could for him, by calling him ‘poor Richard,’ been nothing better than a thick-headed, unfeeling, unprofitable Dick Musgrove, who had never done anything to entitle himself to more than the abbreviation of his name, living or dead.

Ouch, she’s hardly sentimental! One mild complaint, more of a thought, and not of the book; Anne is described as plain yet Sally Hawkins is anything but. To digress a little, neither is Ruth Wilson in Jane Eyre, and Toby Stephens was a little too good looking for Rochester. They’re all supposed to be, if not plain, certainly not striking. It’s a familiar failure; with respect to physical attractiveness, the source is often ignored - has it always been this way? Have we so little faith in character, or is it that producers - perhaps rightly - have so little faith in us?

Ethan Frown

On an impulse, having seen a tweet mentioning Ethan Frome and with almost nihilistic expectations, I decided to read the book. I’ve not read any Edith Wharton before though I’ve seen the odd adaptation. I even dug out a copy of The Age of Innocence in expectation of reading it next, then put it aside; Ethan Frome is crushing, but not in a good way.

Hey Mrs. Kinetta, are you still inflicting all that horrible Ethan Frome damage on your students?
-- Grosse Pointe Blank

So now I can appreciate Martin Blank’s comment. Perhaps a tale of what, for one individual, might have been if not for circumstance, is darker than one where our end is certain? In some ways I found it more depressing than The Road, yet though I could tell it was well-written, beautiful, tragic and so on - and it is all these things - it was also that rare case of knowing a good book but not feeling it.

Fiiiiiiight!

Yes, it's about equality, but it's also about something else: commitment. Conservatives believe in the ties that bind us; that society is stronger when we make vows to each other and support each other. So I don't support gay marriage despite being a Conservative. I support gay marriage because I'm a Conservative.
-- David Cameron

It’s a week of imaginary fights, or appears to be. Odd how that bastion of equality, otherwise known as The Labour Party, managed to avoid settling the issue in all the years they were in power, yet its supporters still feel able to use a reported rebellion against the Prime Minister’s plans to legalise gay marriage, as the stick with which to beat the Tories. I don’t doubt the rebellion is real, nor however do I doubt the objections - often on a religious basis - are cross-party.

Meanwhile, Ed Miliband’s war with Len McClusky may not be entirely phony, but there must be plenty in the Labour party toasting the general secretary of Unite, for giving the leader of the opposition the appearance of having a backbone. Ed’s offence was to face reality and accept the freeze on public sector pay; far more impressive - and to be honest, more fun - was the stand-off that followed with a union dinosaur. Rwooooarr!

It might be enough, but I don’t think SaveEd.org can rest quite yet. Michael Gove may have to repeat his efforts of earlier; “I’ll keep you in the game”, he said to Labour, whilst buying a yacht for the queen, “but I’m not going to throw it for you”. Unfortunately he didn’t say that, also it turned out his attempt wasn’t quite as determined as The Guardian made out, who failed to make clear the salient detail that no taxpayer money - or as The Guardian likes to call it, government money - was proposed. It’s almost like they wanted to start a fight.

Appellations

I should confess my culpability; in adversity will I prove to be the good person I have always imagined or hoped? I finished Any Human Heart on Friday. I don’t think “profound” so apt, but certainly moving; sad stories are the best, those I remember anyway. Is “sad” a deserved label? I remember that same empty feeling having read Doctor Doolittle as a child, sad because it was the natural end of things, but there’s more to William Boyd's novel than that.

John refuses to patronize pubs with royal or aristocratic appellations as a matter of principle.

I’ve noticed a week or so will elapse before I pick up my next book, and again I’ve no idea what I’m going to read. Logan rates Gogol (a recommendation from a fictional character!) or there are traditional classics from such as Dickens or Hardy - I like a bit of tortured soul. They jostle for position and I’m increasingly aware of how little I’ve read, but I tell myself there’s plenty to keep me busy. Then there are those I have; numerous writers telling me how little I know. As a teenager I was all maths, science gave a kind of certainty to the world, yet now I often feel the opposite; it describes everything, telling me nothing. Muriel Rukeyser wrote “The Universe is made of stories, not of atoms” - bloody poets.