It disgusts me that London, one of the greatest cities in the world, has only one newspaper and that is the Evening Standard. The paper used to be a good one. When it was a paid-for title, I remember a series of well-written, well-researched articles, including one of the best articles I've ever read by Kate Hilpern about people who go missing in the city. Now I see the magazine piled up outside rail stations and hardly ever see anyone pick up a copy. Perhaps because it seems to be filled with stories of chinless socialites and the daughters of Russian billionaires who have nothing to say for themselves and are not in the least bit interesting.
Now the paper is little more than a mouthpiece for London Mayor Boris Johnson. How I wish we had the equivalent of the New York Times in London!
Saturday 13 August 2011
Thursday 11 August 2011
Afro Spring: Now They See Us...
Since the riots started, it's been open season for every not-so-closeted racist and Charles Murray apologist to make their feelings known in the national media. Cameron's decision to allow police to use plastic bullets and water cannons will only inflame the situation. And the language he has used is nothing short of abominable. He spoke of "phony human rights", the subtext being that people of colour don't have any rights because we're less than human. Wasn't that the argument used to support slavery?
It's interesting to compare Cameron's knee-jerk reaction to the calm, measured response of the Norwegian prime minister Jens Stoltenberg after the Oslo bombing and the shootings on Utoeya island. It's clear that Cameron is at sea over the riots. Britain needs a steadier, surer hand at the helm than his.
Cameron should really stand down over the riots but unless the rioters make it to Downing Street, I can't see that happening.
It's interesting to compare Cameron's knee-jerk reaction to the calm, measured response of the Norwegian prime minister Jens Stoltenberg after the Oslo bombing and the shootings on Utoeya island. It's clear that Cameron is at sea over the riots. Britain needs a steadier, surer hand at the helm than his.
Cameron should really stand down over the riots but unless the rioters make it to Downing Street, I can't see that happening.
Monday 8 August 2011
We're Mad as Hell and We're Not Going To Take It Anymore
I hate to be the harbinger of doom but for months I have been saying that this country would witness an unprecedented level of civil unrest over the summer. For me, it’s been like watching a car crash happening in very slow motion. What happens when you have large numbers of angry, disaffected youths, a negligent government and a police force that has failed to adequately address racism within its ranks?
The riots in Tottenham were just waiting to happen. Tensions have been simmering beneath the surface for some time - it would not have taken much to ignite, least of all the “accidental” death of Mark Duggan.
What’s been really interesting is watching and reading the media coverage. I always find it amusing watching white reporters on “ghetto duty”. Usually a riot is the only time a black or Asian reporter gets their moment in the sun, so to speak. And then that usually means playing second fiddle to a white journalist (watch out for those “additional reporting by” credits!).
Wild and woolly doesn’t even begin to describe the coverage I’ve seen so far. (In fact, the coverage reminds me of the initial reporting after Hurricane Katrina. Remember all those stories of widespread rapes, which later turned out to be untrue?). The conjecture, subjective statements and blatant rumours reported as fact - all to hide that for most journalists on national newspapers, this is an utterly alien world. They live “safe and proud above the hot struggles of the poor” in places such as West Hampstead and Hoxton. Perhaps Clapham, at a stretch. These journalists find such anger hard to fathom. So I’m going to explain: try to imagine being punched in the face every single day - for no reason. You can see that there would come a point when you would snap and fight back, can’t you?
I am a journalist and every day I go out in this country I can expect to encounter racism in some form or another - from the security guard who literally breathes down my neck as I shop, to the women who clutch their bags as I stand next to them in the lift or behind them in the queue at the supermarket. From the national newspaper editor who announced in front of me that she couldn’t sanction the use of black models because, she said, “they looked dirty” (and then instructed her deputy to ensure that I was never left alone in the office in case anything went missing), to the publisher who loudly warned staff not to leave valuables on their desks - while looking at me.
I have lived for several months in America. Not once did anyone move their bag if I sat at a table next to them in a cafe or restaurant. In America, no one has ever asked me stupid questions such as “Do you tan?” and “How do you wash your hair?” (my personal favourite).
If I’ve had enough of it, I can’t begin to imagine how those youths in Tottenham must feel.
The riots in Tottenham were just waiting to happen. Tensions have been simmering beneath the surface for some time - it would not have taken much to ignite, least of all the “accidental” death of Mark Duggan.
What’s been really interesting is watching and reading the media coverage. I always find it amusing watching white reporters on “ghetto duty”. Usually a riot is the only time a black or Asian reporter gets their moment in the sun, so to speak. And then that usually means playing second fiddle to a white journalist (watch out for those “additional reporting by” credits!).
Wild and woolly doesn’t even begin to describe the coverage I’ve seen so far. (In fact, the coverage reminds me of the initial reporting after Hurricane Katrina. Remember all those stories of widespread rapes, which later turned out to be untrue?). The conjecture, subjective statements and blatant rumours reported as fact - all to hide that for most journalists on national newspapers, this is an utterly alien world. They live “safe and proud above the hot struggles of the poor” in places such as West Hampstead and Hoxton. Perhaps Clapham, at a stretch. These journalists find such anger hard to fathom. So I’m going to explain: try to imagine being punched in the face every single day - for no reason. You can see that there would come a point when you would snap and fight back, can’t you?
I am a journalist and every day I go out in this country I can expect to encounter racism in some form or another - from the security guard who literally breathes down my neck as I shop, to the women who clutch their bags as I stand next to them in the lift or behind them in the queue at the supermarket. From the national newspaper editor who announced in front of me that she couldn’t sanction the use of black models because, she said, “they looked dirty” (and then instructed her deputy to ensure that I was never left alone in the office in case anything went missing), to the publisher who loudly warned staff not to leave valuables on their desks - while looking at me.
I have lived for several months in America. Not once did anyone move their bag if I sat at a table next to them in a cafe or restaurant. In America, no one has ever asked me stupid questions such as “Do you tan?” and “How do you wash your hair?” (my personal favourite).
If I’ve had enough of it, I can’t begin to imagine how those youths in Tottenham must feel.
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