From Newsgroup: alt.buddha.short.fat.guy

Parliament always has an otherworldly feel; itrCOs a world of gothic crenelations, of specialised language, of deliberate artifice. But
something even less real has crept in recently. A deliberate indulgence
by the governing class of mawkishness and sentimentality, just as the
reality of the country theyrCOre supposed to be governing turns grimmer
and more violent. The two rCo the rise of violence and the dominance of mawkishness rCo are not unrelated.

We are entering day two of the fallout from Kemi Badenoch accusing
Bridget Phillipson of being a rCyspiteful class warriorrCO at PMQs. Phillipson, who likes to claim she has a thick skin, spent the
intervening period appearing on TV and radio saying how nasty and unfair
the epithet was, and marshalling Labour MPs to put out outraged tweets communicating much the same sentiment. Proportion went out the window. Murdered MPs were invoked. Anything rather than discuss PhillipsonrCOs
dire record on education. We are becoming used to pompous lectures about civility in politics, often from people who elsewhere throw around terms
like rCyfar-rightrCO and rCyracistrCO with joyous abandon.

Parliament historically offered a refuge from the emotive and
sentimental. According to the authoritative guide to parliamentary
procedure Erskine May, rCyuntil recent times it was not in order to refer
to persons in the galleries (except generally for the purpose of an
order for their withdrawal)rCO though the Chair could decide whether to intervene. The rCyuntil recent timesrCO is crucial: this is no longer the case. In 2017, this strict rule was relaxed by then-Speaker John Bercow, though he did specify that references by Members should remain rCybriefrCa directly related to proceedings, and notrCa phrased so as to be in any way intimidating or to seek to influence debate.rCO This has, like so much,
fallen prey to the reality of the slippery slope. Increasingly,
ministerial statements lead on not just the rCylived experiencerCO, but
often the physical presence of wronged members of the public in the
Commons. Sir Lindsay Hoyle could instantly raise the quality of debate
by returning to the stricter regulations and the useful purpose they
served.

Now itrCOs open season on the invocation of emotion. Scarcely a week goes
by without a minister hailing a victim or relative in the viewing
gallery rCo sometimes for manifestly self-interested reasons. A
particularly egregious example came during a PMQs session in 2024, when
Sir Keir Starmer, then-leader of the opposition, countered Rishi SunakrCOs (accurate) observation that he had U-turned on his definition of
biological sex by haranguing him for insensitivity since Esther Ghey,
the bereaved mother of murdered teenager Brianna Ghey, was in the
Chamber that day. rCyOf all the weeks to say that, when BriannarCOs mother
is in the chamber. Shame. Parading as a man of integrityrCO, he huffed. As Starmer now seeks to build a myth that he was a decent man brought down
by events and by a toxic environment in social and other media, it is
worth remembering his own willingness to play dirty.

Duncan Robinson, author of the EconomistrCOs Bagehot column, has
documented the growing salience of victimhood in politics. Since the
start of 2020, he notes, the word rCyvictimrCO has been mentioned in Parliament more than rCyBrexitrCO, rCywelfarerCO, rCyimmigrationrCO, rCypensionersrCO
and rCyvotersrCO. It is an apt metaphor for our politics: questions of ideology, policy, even specific causes of a particular tragic incident
are all secondary to the hyper-personal.

In the wake of a tragedy, politicians excel at having the conversations
they want to have, rather than acknowledging inconvenient truths. David AmessrCOs murder by an Islamist prompted discussions about rCycivility in politicsrCO. Axel RudukubanarCOs massacre of children in Southport triggered parliamentary censure of AmazonrCOs delivery practices. The Manchester
Arena attack generated little soul-searching from the authorities about
why a security officer was reluctant to approach the bomber for fear of
being called racist, despite his suspicions. Instead it ushered in
additional, victim-led regulation (rCyMartynrCOs LawrCO) requiring both large and small public venues to improve their terror preparedness. Following
the murder of Henry Nowak, MPs accused those asking questions about
potential rCytwo-tier policingrCO, of trying to rCydivide the countryrCO and rCystoke tensionsrCO and invoked NowakrCOs family to close down discussions. But what if many people were simply appalled, without any stoking required?

Increasingly I think this emotional blackmail and tiptoeing around the
actual issues rCo mass migration, violence on our streets and, frankly,
evil rCo is a coping strategy. Humankind cannot bear very much reality.
ItrCOs also, perhaps, a measure of impotence; mawkishness allows the
British state to engage in displacement activity rather than tackling
real problems. It can sometimes trick politicians into viewing their
words as genuine substitutes for action.

It isnrCOt just in Parliament but almost every single public sphere where
this happens. The Samaritans advise journalists to avoid rCy[attributing] blame for suicidal behaviourrCO or citing a simple rCysingle eventrCO as the cause of an individualrCOs suicide. These rules of engagement were
suspended as Ofsted rCo and former Ofsted head Amanda Spielman rCo were
blamed for the suicide of headmistress Ruth Perry, who took her own life following a critical Ofsted inspection. The tragic event was framed as a moment of reckoning for the inspectorate, an unanswerable case for its
reform. Single-word Ofsted judgments have since been banned.

The sentimental mode hastened the passage of assisted suicide through
the Commons. Individual, upsetting stories of people scared of being
trapped by physical decline superseded the extensive evidence from other countries and the concerns of experts and professionals in relevant
fields. The mawkish tendency explains the growing prominence of children
in politics; from the annual meetings of the British Youth Parliament to
the influence of rCyyoung climate leadersrCO on environmental policy around the globe. YourCOd be amazed how often questions begin with reference to
some local eight-year-old with views conveniently similar to those of
the middle-aged MP quoting them. This is a rehash of the semi-Victorian
ideal that children are pure and never wrong; the difference is that no
one put Tiny Tim in charge of our energy supply.

What possible solution is there? Certainly, the logical conclusion is
that rCylived experiencerCO is now the only currency that matters, and the only way to get MPs to take up a cause in Parliament. Given the recent preponderance of named legislation, perhaps I can propose MadelinerCOs
Law: that the state is forbidden from spending more than 40 per cent of
GDP; fare dodgers will be electrocuted; and anyone campaigning to give
away sovereign territory to a China ally should be hanged, drawn and quartered. Just something small, nothing silly. But the thing is, I
donrCOt actually think our laws should be based on my rCylivedrCO experience. More worryingly, I believe mawkishness is being used as a mask rCo for incompetence, hypocrisy and sometimes malice.


Madeline Grant
--- Synchronet 3.22a-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: alt.buddha.short.fat.guy

On 6/26/2026 8:59 AM, Julian wrote:

Parliament always has an otherworldly feel; itrCOs a world of gothic crenelations, of specialised language, of deliberate artifice. But
something even less real has crept in recently. A deliberate indulgence
by the governing class of mawkishness and sentimentality, just as the reality of the country theyrCOre supposed to be governing turns grimmer
and more violent. The two rCo the rise of violence and the dominance of mawkishness rCo are not unrelated.

We are entering day two of the fallout from Kemi Badenoch accusing
Bridget Phillipson of being a rCyspiteful class warriorrCO at PMQs. Phillipson, who likes to claim she has a thick skin, spent the
intervening period appearing on TV and radio saying how nasty and unfair
the epithet was, and marshalling Labour MPs to put out outraged tweets communicating much the same sentiment. Proportion went out the window. Murdered MPs were invoked. Anything rather than discuss PhillipsonrCOs
dire record on education. We are becoming used to pompous lectures about civility in politics, often from people who elsewhere throw around terms like rCyfar-rightrCO and rCyracistrCO with joyous abandon.

Parliament historically offered a refuge from the emotive and
sentimental. According to the authoritative guide to parliamentary
procedure Erskine May, rCyuntil recent times it was not in order to refer
to persons in the galleries (except generally for the purpose of an
order for their withdrawal)rCO though the Chair could decide whether to intervene. The rCyuntil recent timesrCO is crucial: this is no longer the case. In 2017, this strict rule was relaxed by then-Speaker John Bercow, though he did specify that references by Members should remain rCybriefrCa directly related to proceedings, and notrCa phrased so as to be in any way intimidating or to seek to influence debate.rCO This has, like so much, fallen prey to the reality of the slippery slope. Increasingly,
ministerial statements lead on not just the rCylived experiencerCO, but often the physical presence of wronged members of the public in the
Commons. Sir Lindsay Hoyle could instantly raise the quality of debate
by returning to the stricter regulations and the useful purpose they
served.

Now itrCOs open season on the invocation of emotion. Scarcely a week goes
by without a minister hailing a victim or relative in the viewing
gallery rCo sometimes for manifestly self-interested reasons. A
particularly egregious example came during a PMQs session in 2024, when
Sir Keir Starmer, then-leader of the opposition, countered Rishi SunakrCOs (accurate) observation that he had U-turned on his definition of
biological sex by haranguing him for insensitivity since Esther Ghey,
the bereaved mother of murdered teenager Brianna Ghey, was in the
Chamber that day. rCyOf all the weeks to say that, when BriannarCOs mother is in the chamber. Shame. Parading as a man of integrityrCO, he huffed. As Starmer now seeks to build a myth that he was a decent man brought down
by events and by a toxic environment in social and other media, it is
worth remembering his own willingness to play dirty.

Duncan Robinson, author of the EconomistrCOs Bagehot column, has
documented the growing salience of victimhood in politics. Since the
start of 2020, he notes, the word rCyvictimrCO has been mentioned in Parliament more than rCyBrexitrCO, rCywelfarerCO, rCyimmigrationrCO, rCypensionersrCO
and rCyvotersrCO. It is an apt metaphor for our politics: questions of ideology, policy, even specific causes of a particular tragic incident
are all secondary to the hyper-personal.

In the wake of a tragedy, politicians excel at having the conversations
they want to have, rather than acknowledging inconvenient truths. David AmessrCOs murder by an Islamist prompted discussions about rCycivility in politicsrCO. Axel RudukubanarCOs massacre of children in Southport triggered parliamentary censure of AmazonrCOs delivery practices. The Manchester
Arena attack generated little soul-searching from the authorities about
why a security officer was reluctant to approach the bomber for fear of being called racist, despite his suspicions. Instead it ushered in additional, victim-led regulation (rCyMartynrCOs LawrCO) requiring both large
and small public venues to improve their terror preparedness. Following
the murder of Henry Nowak, MPs accused those asking questions about potential rCytwo-tier policingrCO, of trying to rCydivide the countryrCO and rCystoke tensionsrCO and invoked NowakrCOs family to close down discussions. But what if many people were simply appalled, without any stoking required?

Increasingly I think this emotional blackmail and tiptoeing around the actual issues rCo mass migration, violence on our streets and, frankly,
evil rCo is a coping strategy. Humankind cannot bear very much reality. ItrCOs also, perhaps, a measure of impotence; mawkishness allows the
British state to engage in displacement activity rather than tackling
real problems. It can sometimes trick politicians into viewing their
words as genuine substitutes for action.

It isnrCOt just in Parliament but almost every single public sphere where this happens. The Samaritans advise journalists to avoid rCy[attributing] blame for suicidal behaviourrCO or citing a simple rCysingle eventrCO as the cause of an individualrCOs suicide. These rules of engagement were
suspended as Ofsted rCo and former Ofsted head Amanda Spielman rCo were blamed for the suicide of headmistress Ruth Perry, who took her own life following a critical Ofsted inspection. The tragic event was framed as a moment of reckoning for the inspectorate, an unanswerable case for its reform. Single-word Ofsted judgments have since been banned.

The sentimental mode hastened the passage of assisted suicide through
the Commons. Individual, upsetting stories of people scared of being
trapped by physical decline superseded the extensive evidence from other countries and the concerns of experts and professionals in relevant
fields. The mawkish tendency explains the growing prominence of children
in politics; from the annual meetings of the British Youth Parliament to
the influence of rCyyoung climate leadersrCO on environmental policy around the globe. YourCOd be amazed how often questions begin with reference to some local eight-year-old with views conveniently similar to those of
the middle-aged MP quoting them. This is a rehash of the semi-Victorian ideal that children are pure and never wrong; the difference is that no
one put Tiny Tim in charge of our energy supply.

What possible solution is there? Certainly, the logical conclusion is
that rCylived experiencerCO is now the only currency that matters, and the only way to get MPs to take up a cause in Parliament. Given the recent preponderance of named legislation, perhaps I can propose MadelinerCOs
Law: that the state is forbidden from spending more than 40 per cent of
GDP; fare dodgers will be electrocuted; and anyone campaigning to give
away sovereign territory to a China ally should be hanged, drawn and quartered. Just something small, nothing silly. But the thing is, I
donrCOt actually think our laws should be based on my rCylivedrCO experience.
More worryingly, I believe mawkishness is being used as a mask rCo for incompetence, hypocrisy and sometimes malice.

Madeline Grant

"Labour MPs have criticised Kemi Badenoch after a fractious prime
ministerrCOs questions on Wednesday, in which she accused the education secretary of being a rCLspiteful class warriorrCY.

In a rare move, Badenoch was chastised by the speaker, Lindsay Hoyle, in
the chamber of the House of Commons after she took the personal swipe at Bridget Phillipson before saying that Keir Starmer had been betrayed and
had rCL400 knives stuck in his backrCY.

rCLLet us think about the language we use,rCY said Hoyle. rCLBecause when we leave this chamber, donrCOt be surprised when constituents feel they can
use the same language. Let us show a little bit more decorum and
respect.rCY - Guardian
--- Synchronet 3.22a-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: alt.buddha.short.fat.guy

On 26/06/2026 19:51, Dude wrote:

On 6/26/2026 8:59 AM, Julian wrote:

Parliament always has an otherworldly feel; itrCOs a world of gothic
crenelations, of specialised language, of deliberate artifice. But
something even less real has crept in recently. A deliberate
indulgence by the governing class of mawkishness and sentimentality,
just as the reality of the country theyrCOre supposed to be governing
turns grimmer and more violent. The two rCo the rise of violence and the
dominance of mawkishness rCo are not unrelated.

We are entering day two of the fallout from Kemi Badenoch accusing
Bridget Phillipson of being a rCyspiteful class warriorrCO at PMQs.
Phillipson, who likes to claim she has a thick skin, spent the
intervening period appearing on TV and radio saying how nasty and
unfair the epithet was, and marshalling Labour MPs to put out outraged
tweets communicating much the same sentiment. Proportion went out the
window. Murdered MPs were invoked. Anything rather than discuss
PhillipsonrCOs dire record on education. We are becoming used to pompous
lectures about civility in politics, often from people who elsewhere
throw around terms like rCyfar-rightrCO and rCyracistrCO with joyous abandon.

Parliament historically offered a refuge from the emotive and
sentimental. According to the authoritative guide to parliamentary
procedure Erskine May, rCyuntil recent times it was not in order to
refer to persons in the galleries (except generally for the purpose of
an order for their withdrawal)rCO though the Chair could decide whether
to intervene. The rCyuntil recent timesrCO is crucial: this is no longer
the case. In 2017, this strict rule was relaxed by then-Speaker John
Bercow, though he did specify that references by Members should remain
rCybriefrCa directly related to proceedings, and notrCa phrased so as to be >> in any way intimidating or to seek to influence debate.rCO This has,
like so much, fallen prey to the reality of the slippery slope.
Increasingly, ministerial statements lead on not just the rCylived
experiencerCO, but often the physical presence of wronged members of the
public in the Commons. Sir Lindsay Hoyle could instantly raise the
quality of debate by returning to the stricter regulations and the
useful purpose they served.

Now itrCOs open season on the invocation of emotion. Scarcely a week
goes by without a minister hailing a victim or relative in the viewing
gallery rCo sometimes for manifestly self-interested reasons. A
particularly egregious example came during a PMQs session in 2024,
when Sir Keir Starmer, then-leader of the opposition, countered Rishi
SunakrCOs (accurate) observation that he had U-turned on his definition
of biological sex by haranguing him for insensitivity since Esther
Ghey, the bereaved mother of murdered teenager Brianna Ghey, was in
the Chamber that day. rCyOf all the weeks to say that, when BriannarCOs
mother is in the chamber. Shame. Parading as a man of integrityrCO, he
huffed. As Starmer now seeks to build a myth that he was a decent man
brought down by events and by a toxic environment in social and other
media, it is worth remembering his own willingness to play dirty.

Duncan Robinson, author of the EconomistrCOs Bagehot column, has
documented the growing salience of victimhood in politics. Since the
start of 2020, he notes, the word rCyvictimrCO has been mentioned in
Parliament more than rCyBrexitrCO, rCywelfarerCO, rCyimmigrationrCO, rCypensionersrCO
and rCyvotersrCO. It is an apt metaphor for our politics: questions of
ideology, policy, even specific causes of a particular tragic incident
are all secondary to the hyper-personal.

In the wake of a tragedy, politicians excel at having the
conversations they want to have, rather than acknowledging
inconvenient truths. David AmessrCOs murder by an Islamist prompted
discussions about rCycivility in politicsrCO. Axel RudukubanarCOs massacre >> of children in Southport triggered parliamentary censure of AmazonrCOs
delivery practices. The Manchester Arena attack generated little soul-
searching from the authorities about why a security officer was
reluctant to approach the bomber for fear of being called racist,
despite his suspicions. Instead it ushered in additional, victim-led
regulation (rCyMartynrCOs LawrCO) requiring both large and small public
venues to improve their terror preparedness. Following the murder of
Henry Nowak, MPs accused those asking questions about potential rCytwo-
tier policingrCO, of trying to rCydivide the countryrCO and rCystoke tensionsrCO
and invoked NowakrCOs family to close down discussions. But what if many
people were simply appalled, without any stoking required?

Increasingly I think this emotional blackmail and tiptoeing around the
actual issues rCo mass migration, violence on our streets and, frankly,
evil rCo is a coping strategy. Humankind cannot bear very much reality.
ItrCOs also, perhaps, a measure of impotence; mawkishness allows the
British state to engage in displacement activity rather than tackling
real problems. It can sometimes trick politicians into viewing their
words as genuine substitutes for action.

It isnrCOt just in Parliament but almost every single public sphere
where this happens. The Samaritans advise journalists to avoid
rCy[attributing] blame for suicidal behaviourrCO or citing a simple
rCysingle eventrCO as the cause of an individualrCOs suicide. These rules of
engagement were suspended as Ofsted rCo and former Ofsted head Amanda
Spielman rCo were blamed for the suicide of headmistress Ruth Perry, who
took her own life following a critical Ofsted inspection. The tragic
event was framed as a moment of reckoning for the inspectorate, an
unanswerable case for its reform. Single-word Ofsted judgments have
since been banned.

The sentimental mode hastened the passage of assisted suicide through
the Commons. Individual, upsetting stories of people scared of being
trapped by physical decline superseded the extensive evidence from
other countries and the concerns of experts and professionals in
relevant fields. The mawkish tendency explains the growing prominence
of children in politics; from the annual meetings of the British Youth
Parliament to the influence of rCyyoung climate leadersrCO on
environmental policy around the globe. YourCOd be amazed how often
questions begin with reference to some local eight-year-old with views
conveniently similar to those of the middle-aged MP quoting them. This
is a rehash of the semi-Victorian ideal that children are pure and
never wrong; the difference is that no one put Tiny Tim in charge of
our energy supply.

What possible solution is there? Certainly, the logical conclusion is
that rCylived experiencerCO is now the only currency that matters, and the >> only way to get MPs to take up a cause in Parliament. Given the recent
preponderance of named legislation, perhaps I can propose MadelinerCOs
Law: that the state is forbidden from spending more than 40 per cent
of GDP; fare dodgers will be electrocuted; and anyone campaigning to
give away sovereign territory to a China ally should be hanged, drawn
and quartered. Just something small, nothing silly. But the thing is,
I donrCOt actually think our laws should be based on my rCylivedrCO
experience. More worryingly, I believe mawkishness is being used as a
mask rCo for incompetence, hypocrisy and sometimes malice.


Madeline Grant

"Labour MPs have criticised Kemi Badenoch after a fractious prime ministerrCOs questions on Wednesday, in which she accused the education secretary of being a rCLspiteful class warriorrCY.

In a rare move, Badenoch was chastised by the speaker, Lindsay Hoyle, in
the chamber of the House of Commons after she took the personal swipe at Bridget Phillipson before saying that Keir Starmer had been betrayed and
had rCL400 knives stuck in his backrCY.

rCLLet us think about the language we use,rCY said Hoyle. rCLBecause when we leave this chamber, donrCOt be surprised when constituents feel they can
use the same language. Let us show a little bit more decorum and
respect.rCY - Guardian

Hurty words are far worse that hurty actions, apparently.

--- Synchronet 3.22a-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: alt.buddha.short.fat.guy

On Fri, 26 Jun 2026 19:58:17 +0100, Julian <julianlzb87@gmail.com>
wrote:

On 26/06/2026 19:51, Dude wrote:

On 6/26/2026 8:59 AM, Julian wrote:

Parliament always has an otherworldly feel; itAs a world of gothic
crenelations, of specialised language, of deliberate artifice. But
something even less real has crept in recently. A deliberate
indulgence by the governing class of mawkishness and sentimentality,
just as the reality of the country theyAre supposed to be governing
turns grimmer and more violent. The two u the rise of violence and the
dominance of mawkishness u are not unrelated.

We are entering day two of the fallout from Kemi Badenoch accusing
Bridget Phillipson of being a aspiteful class warriorA at PMQs.
Phillipson, who likes to claim she has a thick skin, spent the
intervening period appearing on TV and radio saying how nasty and
unfair the epithet was, and marshalling Labour MPs to put out outraged
tweets communicating much the same sentiment. Proportion went out the
window. Murdered MPs were invoked. Anything rather than discuss
PhillipsonAs dire record on education. We are becoming used to pompous
lectures about civility in politics, often from people who elsewhere
throw around terms like afar-rightA and aracistA with joyous abandon.

Parliament historically offered a refuge from the emotive and
sentimental. According to the authoritative guide to parliamentary
procedure Erskine May, auntil recent times it was not in order to
refer to persons in the galleries (except generally for the purpose of
an order for their withdrawal)A though the Chair could decide whether
to intervene. The auntil recent timesA is crucial: this is no longer
the case. In 2017, this strict rule was relaxed by then-Speaker John
Bercow, though he did specify that references by Members should remain
abriefa directly related to proceedings, and nota phrased so as to be
in any way intimidating or to seek to influence debate.A This has,
like so much, fallen prey to the reality of the slippery slope.
Increasingly, ministerial statements lead on not just the alived
experienceA, but often the physical presence of wronged members of the
public in the Commons. Sir Lindsay Hoyle could instantly raise the
quality of debate by returning to the stricter regulations and the
useful purpose they served.

Now itAs open season on the invocation of emotion. Scarcely a week
goes by without a minister hailing a victim or relative in the viewing
gallery u sometimes for manifestly self-interested reasons. A
particularly egregious example came during a PMQs session in 2024,
when Sir Keir Starmer, then-leader of the opposition, countered Rishi
SunakAs (accurate) observation that he had U-turned on his definition
of biological sex by haranguing him for insensitivity since Esther
Ghey, the bereaved mother of murdered teenager Brianna Ghey, was in
the Chamber that day. aOf all the weeks to say that, when BriannaAs
mother is in the chamber. Shame. Parading as a man of integrityA, he
huffed. As Starmer now seeks to build a myth that he was a decent man
brought down by events and by a toxic environment in social and other
media, it is worth remembering his own willingness to play dirty.

Duncan Robinson, author of the EconomistAs Bagehot column, has
documented the growing salience of victimhood in politics. Since the
start of 2020, he notes, the word avictimA has been mentioned in
Parliament more than aBrexitA, awelfareA, aimmigrationA, apensionersA
and avotersA. It is an apt metaphor for our politics: questions of
ideology, policy, even specific causes of a particular tragic incident
are all secondary to the hyper-personal.

In the wake of a tragedy, politicians excel at having the
conversations they want to have, rather than acknowledging
inconvenient truths. David AmessAs murder by an Islamist prompted
discussions about acivility in politicsA. Axel RudukubanaAs massacre
of children in Southport triggered parliamentary censure of AmazonAs
delivery practices. The Manchester Arena attack generated little soul-
searching from the authorities about why a security officer was
reluctant to approach the bomber for fear of being called racist,
despite his suspicions. Instead it ushered in additional, victim-led
regulation (aMartynAs LawA) requiring both large and small public
venues to improve their terror preparedness. Following the murder of
Henry Nowak, MPs accused those asking questions about potential atwo-
tier policingA, of trying to adivide the countryA and astoke tensionsA
and invoked NowakAs family to close down discussions. But what if many
people were simply appalled, without any stoking required?

Increasingly I think this emotional blackmail and tiptoeing around the
actual issues u mass migration, violence on our streets and, frankly,
evil u is a coping strategy. Humankind cannot bear very much reality.
ItAs also, perhaps, a measure of impotence; mawkishness allows the
British state to engage in displacement activity rather than tackling
real problems. It can sometimes trick politicians into viewing their
words as genuine substitutes for action.

It isnAt just in Parliament but almost every single public sphere
where this happens. The Samaritans advise journalists to avoid
a[attributing] blame for suicidal behaviourA or citing a simple
asingle eventA as the cause of an individualAs suicide. These rules of
engagement were suspended as Ofsted u and former Ofsted head Amanda
Spielman u were blamed for the suicide of headmistress Ruth Perry, who
took her own life following a critical Ofsted inspection. The tragic
event was framed as a moment of reckoning for the inspectorate, an
unanswerable case for its reform. Single-word Ofsted judgments have
since been banned.

The sentimental mode hastened the passage of assisted suicide through
the Commons. Individual, upsetting stories of people scared of being
trapped by physical decline superseded the extensive evidence from
other countries and the concerns of experts and professionals in
relevant fields. The mawkish tendency explains the growing prominence
of children in politics; from the annual meetings of the British Youth
Parliament to the influence of ayoung climate leadersA on
environmental policy around the globe. YouAd be amazed how often
questions begin with reference to some local eight-year-old with views
conveniently similar to those of the middle-aged MP quoting them. This
is a rehash of the semi-Victorian ideal that children are pure and
never wrong; the difference is that no one put Tiny Tim in charge of
our energy supply.

What possible solution is there? Certainly, the logical conclusion is
that alived experienceA is now the only currency that matters, and the
only way to get MPs to take up a cause in Parliament. Given the recent
preponderance of named legislation, perhaps I can propose MadelineAs
Law: that the state is forbidden from spending more than 40 per cent
of GDP; fare dodgers will be electrocuted; and anyone campaigning to
give away sovereign territory to a China ally should be hanged, drawn
and quartered. Just something small, nothing silly. But the thing is,
I donAt actually think our laws should be based on my alivedA
experience. More worryingly, I believe mawkishness is being used as a
mask u for incompetence, hypocrisy and sometimes malice.


Madeline Grant

"Labour MPs have criticised Kemi Badenoch after a fractious prime
ministerAs questions on Wednesday, in which she accused the education
secretary of being a ospiteful class warrioro.

In a rare move, Badenoch was chastised by the speaker, Lindsay Hoyle, in
the chamber of the House of Commons after she took the personal swipe at
Bridget Phillipson before saying that Keir Starmer had been betrayed and
had o400 knives stuck in his backo.

oLet us think about the language we use,o said Hoyle. oBecause when we
leave this chamber, donAt be surprised when constituents feel they can
use the same language. Let us show a little bit more decorum and
respect.o - Guardian

Hurty words are far worse that hurty actions, apparently.

Let us know if you have been acted upon.
--
Noah Sombrero mustachioed villain
Don't get political with me young man
or I'll tie you to a railroad track and
<<<talk>>> to <<<YOOooooo>>>
Who dares to talk to El Sombrero?
dares: Ned
does not dare: Julian shrinks in horror and warns others away

--- Synchronet 3.22a-Linux NewsLink 1.2