The Pinch - Baby Boomers and Bust

David Willetts – “The Pinch: How the baby boomers took their children’s future – and why they should give it back.”

In a 44 year period in the town of Leighton Buzzard 900 properties changed hands, but only a third of these were between people in the same family. The rest were bought by purchasers from further afield – evidence surely of the vibrant home owning society we all live in.

When was this? Oh, between 1464 and 1508! Britain has, apparently, always been a home owning society of smaller nuclear families.

This is just one of the highly satisfying little nuggets of information in this beautifully researched account by Tory MP David Willetts on how those born between 1945 and 1965 have got a pretty generous slice of the financial, cultural and political pie at the expense of those born afterwards, and why.

Willetts is a rare public intellectual who consistently stands apart from his coalition colleagues by virtue of his obvious probity and analytical prowess. In this book he postulates that the baby boomer generation owes a debt of reparation to the young, likening them to a hunter-gatherer tribe with an acute demographic problem.

Imagine Homo-erectus living in an earlier tribal community. There are the elderly and the young who need taking care of and then the fit adults who provide for them. If, by some freak event such as a series of mild winters or an increase in food stocks, the providers have a slightly better time of it and the population of the young spikes upwards, what happens?

Well, when the abundant young turn into providers they will comfortably be able to support their elderly but what if the number of new tribe members being born falls again? Who will provide for abundant adults in old age when there are suddenly more elderly mouths to feed and fewer replacement adults to feed them?

This is Willetts’ central argument, and it is so well made that you feel inclined not to quarrel with it. He suggests that, on average, every baby boomer will have taken out from society about 118% of what he or she has put in, and that such a boom trails an inevitable bust.

He recreates the “tribe” scenario today – imagining a household where there are husband and wife, two children and an elderly mother all living under one roof. The husband is in well-paid full-time employment; the wife works part time and looks after the children and the elderly mother.

This household is, he argues, akin to the welfare state. The man’s earnings pass to four dependants across three generations and even if he is quite well off he will not feel affluent.



Willetts weaves it all seamlessly into his central narrative that fortune has tracked the boomer generation like a stratified sample fund. When they were of school age, spending on schools went up; when they bought their houses, mortgages had tax relief and property rapidly increased in value; when they hit their peak earnings years tax rates fell, and the coffers bulged so much that many employers bestowed generous final salary pensions on everyone, sweetened further by contribution holidays and index linking. How much of that was true for the generation that followed?

BY 2050 over 50% of the UK will be over 50. The same over 50’s already own 4/5ths of the country’s wealth. There is a flash point here. The boomers will be so abundant they will have real power at the ballot box – tempting politicians to pander to them further. This creates horizontal cultural links, between members of the same generation, rather than vertical ones across generations. That will leave a disaffected youth, over taxed and under rewarded. It is a cocktail for catastrophe.

The conclusions David Willetts reaches are not 100% water tight, but the journey to get there is a hugely enjoyable one. He is, after all, a right of centre minister and I felt justified being a little sceptical of any politician’s motives writing a book proposing large scale social change!

Yet for all that this book is very informative, concise and well written. Economics students will relish the sections on Keynes, Schumpeter and Marx whilst sociologists will salivate at all the well-organised data.

It’s a book I can recommend highly.

Beautiful Mathematics!

For many the very mention of Maths brings them out in a cold sweat and induces either ambivalence or an instant switch off! Why is this? I have always found that Mathematics has a beauty and even a fundamental perfection that can be every bit as thrilling as studying a poem or a painting – and yet so many people never experience this.

Don't misunderstand me - I am no professional Mathematician! I just love the beauty of playing with numbers and shapes.

The first time I remember this happening to me was at primary school. We had a maverick head teacher who just wouldn’t be tolerated today – his name was James Denny and he was a rotund, peppery but jolly Scot who would, on a whim, call the whole school together and teach them something en masse! The other teachers would be expected to just stop what they were doing and join him in the assembly hall.

One of these lessons taught us to count up to 31 on one hand using binary (I had no idea what binary meant at the time, but looking back I see that is what it was) the thumb was one, the index finger two, the thumb and index finger was three, the middle finger alone was four, middle finger plus thumb five etc. We all heard a story about a strange woodland elf that Mr Denny had met and who taught him this secret way of counting! Try it – it’s fun!

From this I discovered the rainy day activity that is Pascal’s triangle – my brother and I used to create these for hours. You know – you start at the top with 1, beneath that you write two more 1s and then continue down where underneath every pair of numbers you write the sum of the number above – so row 3 would be “1, 2, 1” and row 4 would be “1,3,3,1” and so on for whatever size the paper is. Fascinating patterns appear even if your writing has to get very small!

But the best fun of all is Geometry. Say the word “Euclid” and you get blank expressions (or ones of abject horror!) most of the time – but he is like the father of Mathematics in so many ways. His theories mean that even today every schoolgirl and boy has a compass and ruler in their Geometry set – and with them can draw almost any shape, angle or plan. Greek mathematics has endured in a way Greek Philosophy and Literature has of course, but arguably in a more prominent role.

What about Pythagoras? The sheer stultifying brilliance of the formula that expresses the relationship between the sides of a right angled triangle is so rewarding – first when you first try it out but then, if you go that far, when you learn how to prove it! The square of the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides. Less well known is if you draw semi circles on each side of the triangle, or pentagons, the same is true! In fact any proportional shape will have the same relationship.

Plato showed how there are only five “solids” that can be generated by regular shapes – the Tetrahedron from a triangle, the Cube from a square, the Octahedron from the triangular pyramid, the Icosahedron from the triangle and the Dodecahedron from the Pentagon. Great for using as die in role playing games!

From here I remember exploring tessellation – basically using a repeating shape to “tile” an area! Some shapes tessellate easily but actually any four sided shape, if inverted exactly, can create a shape which will tessellate! That is pretty amazing in itself. Some of the most beautiful mosaic patterns in the world employ this principle. Interestingly, Islam where graven images were banned still created artistic beauty with mathematics in the tiled floors of mosques from Istanbul to Baghdad – in fact the Islamic nations were well ahead of the west in Mathematics for centuries.

Jack once told me that there are two types of tessellation – essentially with one you can ‘pick up’ a section, move it around and match it exactly somewhere else, and another type where this is impossible. The first is known as periodic tessellation and for years mathematicians tried to discover an example of nonperiodic tessellation. The person who achieved it was known in another field – it was cosmologist Roger Penrose with his “Dart and Kite” pattern shown.

There is no section of this pattern that is ever exactly repeated yet it tiles perfectly! Wonderful… Some even suggest that Islamic mathematicians may have discovered this 1000 years earlier…had religion not poisoned their progress we might have had the Internet in the time of Shakespeare!

Ahh, the beauty of Maths! Hardly even a scratch on the surface…

Favourite Art - L'Umana Fragilita by Salvator Rosa

'Conceptio Culpa, Nasci Pena, Labor Vita, Necesse Mori'

I first saw this piece when I was about 20 years old, and I remember I admired its obvious dark qualities but very little else. I think it was for a creative writing project, and it may have been seen on a glossy page in some text book or catalogue. I barely even bothered to decipher its symbols or translate the Latin inscription – but it obviously touched me in some deep way because when I saw it again years later in the Fitzwilliam Museum Cambridge I was reminded and drawn back in.

At the time of my second viewing I had grown older, had children, had lost my Father and was increasingly identifying with Eliot’s “Love Song Of J. Alfred Prufrock” and Philip Larkin’s “Toads” as contemplations of ageing and the wasting of one’s precious and too brief time alive on working for, or pleasing, others. So on the second occasion I sat in front of the painting for several pensive and ponderous minutes and just…thought.

The painting, which I have returned to on several occasions subsequently, between meetings, after appointments, before seminars, is so obviously a product of personal tragedy for the artist Rosa who lost many of his family to plague the year before it was completed in 1656 - but it reflects most poignantly of all the fact that he lost his son, Rosalvo. It is the imagination of the moment of this loss that is captured in the scene, and yet, at the same time, it is as if all grief and futility is encapsulated within it.

The title means “Human Frailty” and the painting shows the mocking, leering angel of death sealing a contract for the life and soul of young Rosalvo who is portrayed as too young even to form letters on a page with a pen. You can almost trace a demonic Christian cross of light from the angel’s wings through the child’s arms. He sits, oblivious, on the lap of his mother, and on the page is written in Latin “Conception is Sin, Birth is Pain, Life is Toil, Death a Necessity” giving the most lucid understanding of Salvator Rosa’s state of mind. I read that he wrote to a close friend in a letter “This time Heaven has struck me in such a way that all human remedies are useless and the least pain I feel is when I tell you that I weep as I write”.

The moment your children are born you live with the almost constant terror of losing them. In the same way that their birth completes your life's purpose, their premature death must surely destroy it. I am certain that the grieving Salvator shed many tears onto this canvas and I still find it awe-inspiring that he found the courage to create it.

Objectively, the main reason I really love this painting is that it combines that raw, visceral emotion with perfect artistic precision in structure and imagery. There are several symbols of death scattered around the scene – a knife, a death mask, a bursting bubble, the Roman God of death Terminus. The light is used to great effect. The faces of the characters are haunting and memorable. Every detail rewards study and contains profound references and explanations. Most of the allusions I got from subsequent study, but the image is so strong it really does not require much interpretation. It is quite simply what art should be – a means of communicating something tangible, or intangible, about what it means to be human - a glimpse of the numinous that transcends faith or belief.

Whenever I take life a bit too seriously, I often think of that cold bony hand gripping the young child’s wrist. Death too early was an ironic fact of life in 1656 of course, the artist himself died at just 57, and most life was nasty, brutish and short - but I manage to believe that the message of gloom contained within this work can be turned into a hopeful optimism, even if just by my vowing to make a little bit more of every extra day I am granted and finding precious moments of human interactivity that prove the inscription, albeit occasionally and too briefly, to be over stated.

A short story I tell my youngest daughter.

Amazing!

Once there was a little girl called Charlotte who was very clever, very curious and very brave.

Her teacher, Miss Burgess was a colourful, smiley young girl who wore striped tights and loved telling stories. She had a big shelf behind her desk with all her clever teaching books on it with titles like “How to think in shapes and numbers” and “Count the stars”.

One afternoon Miss Burgess handed the children their Maths books to take home for the weekend.

“Now remember children, you mustn’t work any further than the page I told you” she said “Or your brains will be full!”

After the class had gone Charlotte went over to the shelf of books and looked at the ones on the top which were covered in dust and very thick. They had gold lines down their spines and old fashioned embossed letters. Checking that nobody was looking, she climbed onto Miss Burgess’ desk and took down the first book.

It was titled “Very Clever Maths” and was full of pictures of revolving spheres and levers and graphs and shapes and other things that made Charlotte’s eyes widen.

She slipped the book into her bag and ran to catch up with the other children.

That night, with a torch under her bed clothes, Charlotte read the whole book and then did all the test questions at the end so that the next morning she could show her answers to Miss Burgess.

At first her teacher was very cross that Charlotte had taken the book but when she read the test she said:

“Amazing!” and ran off to show the Head Teacher.

“Amazing!” said the Head Teacher and ran off to show the Governors.

“Amazing!” said the Chairman of the Governors and took it to show the Mayor…

When the Mayor saw Charlotte’s hard work in the Maths test he decided he had to show the Prime Minister.

“Amazing!” said the Prime Minister and set off at once for the United Nations where he read out the results of Charlotte’s Maths test to all the nations of the world, and they all nodded to each other smiling and clapping gently. All agreed that it really was amazing.

That night as Charlotte was doing her homework there came a knock at the door. When she opened it there were five scientists dressed in white lab coats, each with spectacles and a clipboard and all scribbling away attentively.





“We are from NASA the space people!” said the tallest one with the bright yellow tie “come with us!”

So Charlotte followed them to their shiny rocket ship, which was parked in her back garden and they flew her off to NASA’s base in the United States of America.

The scientists took Charlotte into a big room where there was one desk in the middle and lots of others in a big circle around it where even more scientists sat, all with glasses and clipboards and bright coloured ties.

“Please” said the man with the yellow tie “Can you try and help us? We want to land a space ship on Mars but the Maths equations are just so difficult!”

Charlotte looked at the piece of paper he handed her and scratched her chin “hmmm…” she said and then sat down at the desk in the middle.

“It’s quite easy...look” she said and explained the equations to the scientists whose eyes were getting wider and wider. Then suddenly they all began shouting “Of course!” and “Eureka!” and “That’s it!” and ran back to their own desks in feverish excitement.

This continued for some time. Then, at last, the scientist with the bright yellow tie stood on a chair and shouted “We’ve done it!” and all the other scientists stood up and applauded Charlotte who did her best curtsey, in recognition of their kindness.

“How can we ever thank you?” said the scientist with the yellow tie.

“Well, you could give me a ride home” said Charlotte.

And they did.

It was several months later when Charlotte and her classmates were all gathered around the screen in her classroom watching the first ever humans landing on Mars. The astronauts bounced and wobbled about in their big space suits and planted a flag, and lots of famous people on Earth gave speeches and clapped.

The day came for the ship to come home. The last astronaut was just about to board the shuttle when he stopped and began scratching something in the dry, red dust on the planet’s surface. Nobody knew what he was doing.

He climbed in and slowly the great space shuttle lifted off to rejoin the Mother ship and return the astronauts safely home. As they began to lift off, the astronauts switched on a camera on the bottom of the shuttle. It was looking back down at the surface of Mars, so everyone could see.

And there, written in the dust, were the words

“Thank you Charlotte!”

“Amazing!” thought Charlotte (…and continued working on her idea for a ship to fly to the stars!)

X Factor & The Beatles is like Peaches & Diesel...

X Factor – Oh no…

If you drew a giant smiley on The Haywain by Constable you could not have insulted our cultural heritage more profoundly than the X Factor mob did by covering Beatles songs this week. The whole thing was reminiscent of those horrible seaside specials in the 70s when camp dancers gyrated around a Blackpool pier lip-synching to crap pop songs. It was absolutely appalling.

What is it with Cheryl? Do some men actually fancy her? If so, it must be domestic abusers looking for a guilt free punch-fest. When she does that pathetic hurt look I am usually being pulled off the TV, blood streaming from my knuckles. I loved when she was attacking Wagner for revealing her council house origins – like she keeps those well hidden!

So what of the show itself and the performances? Well the highlight for me was when I thought West Life had all died in a car crash but it turned out that was just an advert for their new album shown during a break. Ah well…

Five soppy boys singing “All You Need Is Love” was my start point without a harmony in sight. They pout, bob, sway and sing badly destroying an anthem like the puppets in Team America destroying world heritage sites. Disgraceful…oh and Stretch Armstrong came on Sunday and said he wanted them to win!

Rebecca Ferguson, who is undoubtedly talented, is being slowly caricatured into a cross between Sade and Macy Gray and her version of Yesterday was obviously really terrible but only one judge was brave enough to say so. It was awful – a travesty and a shame because I think she can be a good recording artiste in time if she can escape Cowell’s clutches.

Then there was Katie Weasel or whatever her name is whose only claim to fame with me is she takes my mind off punching Cheryl Cole when she appears. Her warbling “Help” was like an advert for genocide and when Simon called it “genius lyrically” well I nearly choked on my cup cake…she didn't write the lyrics you pothead she sang them! Badly. I really hope he dies in a Hotel fire, as Morrissey would say.

Then Mary did Shirley Bassey doing Something, a truly amazing song by George and one of my favourites, which was interesting – a bit “Stars In Their Eyes” really. Which could be said of the whole show actually.

Even Matt Cardle looked out of his depth which is a shame because again I think he could be a good performer given free expression and time. Come Together is a great song but only when sung by John Lennon. Which leads me to…

Point of order – Imagine is a John Lennon song recorded post-Beatles so it can’t be on Beatles night. (And who the hell chose “Hippy Hippy Shake”? The judges do nothing for their credibility with these errors.) I was actually less frightened in The Exorcist than I was at the thought that she was about to start rapping the Imagine lyrics...if she had I would have got in my car, driven to London and beaten the Great Satan Cowell to death with a rusty spanner, I swear I would have.

The mini-me Cole blubbed her way through Sunday when she needn’t have worried, not being black she was always going through. Cowell tried getting rid of Paije a week before putting him on first to play on poor viewer memories, but they gave the thumbs down to that twitchy bloke with the quiff. Hah!

All that and Wagner the protest vote believing his own bullshit and Louis thinking he has a fan base!! So funny – when he got through on Sunday I recorded Cheryl’s expression and replayed it a hundred times whilst punching the screen. Excellent therapy.

Anyway the circus continues and I will be watching mindlessly like the rest of the country. Ho hum…

Praise for “The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists” by Robert Tressell

Few novels can really claim to have had a wholly transformative effect on the reader but in the case of this one I can totally understand the cover statement by Ricky Tomlinson that this book changed his life. It certainly informed mine, much like Orwell's "Down and Out in Paris & London" and "Road to Wigan Pier" did.

It's creator, Robert Noonan who took the nom de plume of Tressell to avoid recriminations, sadly didn’t live to see it published. In the introduction he vouches for its accuracy and claims it is all true which gives every scene added resonance.

It charts a year in the life of a group of working class painters and decorators in Edwardian England who suffer unspeakable poverty and suffering as they attempt to survive the cruel realities of post-industrial capitalism in a fictitious town of Mugsborough.

Into their midst comes a well-read activist called Owen who attempts to teach them how they are being exploited by the capitalist system – memorably demonstrating in one scene the “great money trick” using bread divided up into pieces. The men are scornful of Owen blaming their ills on immigrants, tariff reform or free trade and decrying socialism as an evil to be condemned.

I had to constantly remind myself that this novel actually pre-dates The Suffragettes, The Russian Revolution, The first Labour Government and The First World War and excuse many of its more subsequently discredited notions on that basis. That said, many of the books central criticisms of the Western Capitalist philosophy could be equally levelled today.

Tressell does not hold back in his condemnation of the Edwardian employers. Hunter is the feared foreman, referred to variously as Misery and Nimrod, who can cut the men off at any time – they are, however, entitled to an hour’s notice! The owner, Rushton, is another tyrant who happily has the men working in freezing temperatures with poor tools and only the fear of loss of income as an incentive.

Yet Tressell understands that a system where everyone chasing the same contract must seek to undercut the other bidders is inevitably doomed to fail. He almost sympathises with the men forced to drive their employees as slaves to squeeze profit from each job – many of the scenes explore this convincingly.

He highlights poverty and the lack of help and support from the authorities in a more straightforward manner than say Dickens does, but despite being true the narrative does not suffer from a lack of story-telling. It is, at times, maddening and moving in equal measure.

All ages and classes are covered and Tressell uses names for his characters that are laugh out loud funny at times. Bodger and Leavit, Sir Graball D’Encloseland the MP, Mr Sweater and Mr Grinder the employers, Slyme the immoral cad and even Dr Weakling the only voice on the council who attempts to speak against corruption and self-interest but always fails.

The book is optimistic in the end but the irony is that Owen, who is Tressell, contracts TB in the story but ultimately survives to meet with some good fortune.

Robert Tressell was not so fortunate dying young, another victim of the system he sought to change.

The original manuscript can be viewed on-line at the TUC website complete with Noonan's alterations and notes. It is very readable and a fascinating artefact of the class struggle.

Worth a look this Xmas if you need something different!

Horror & Gore!!

Watching the Psychoville Halloween Special recently reminded me of just how much I love the Horror genre. I hit seventeen at the perfect time – the VCR had arrived in the UK and some of the most creative horror movies from the 60s and 70s could be watched late at night after a trip to The Three Horseshoes in Stukeley, preferably in groups of four or five.

I grew to love Horror from that moment onwards. The genre appeals to the visceral core of what it means to be human. The fear of death in all its forms, the struggle with terrifying ordeals, the nature of self, religion, independence and even child abuse – all have been covered in Horror movies and the teenage impressionable me was lapping it all up in the late seventies. Here then is my Horror Top 10 covering all the films that I first saw on VCR and still watch today.

10. Psycho – the original “slasher” serial killer movie has to scrape onto the chart mainly because I still really enjoy watching it so much. That scene on the stairs still gets me as does the final denouement. A classic

9. The Shining – OK Jack Nicholson is a bit over the top, but the way the film deals with the twin themes of domestic abuse and isolation is still masterly. The techniques used look a bit passé but the sheer brilliance of the direction makes up for it.

8. The Ring – Japanese version of course and truly chilling from the very start. The last scene seems to break the fourth wall by crawling out of the TV twice – the second time into your own lap! Fabulous.

7. Halloween – Michael Myers cutting up baby sitters and their boyfriends…but only if they have had sex. Innocent Laurie is ultimately spared and of course he himself can’t be killed, just as immorality can’t be killed. The film is dated but still has a brio I love and is always worth another viewing.

6. Suspiria – Fantastic Italian Horror with ground breaking special effects at the time and a genuinely disturbing underlying theme of separation and exclusion.

5. Zoltan, Hound of Dracula – slightly quirky vampire movie but the dog steals the show as a monster somewhere between the Baskerville Hound and the Alien. Superbly terrifying at the time and still worth an evening’s viewing

4. The Wicker Man – so English and so ground breaking with its plot based on paganism and ignorance laced with escapist independence from the rule of law. Edward Woodward screaming “Oh My God!” still makes my blood freeze and makes you think of ethnic cleansing, executed hostages and brutal murders in the name of religions.

3. Dawn of the Dead – The prophetic fable on consumerism. Watch it now and you could just as easily be out on a Saturday at the local Debenhams or John Lewis. We are all the Zombies now and this film tried to warn us. Superb.

2. Blood on Satan’s Claw – a kitsch hammer classic made memorable for me by the full frontal nude scene where “Angel” reveals her loyalty to the Dark Side, which disturbed me greatly as a teenage youth. Wonderful.

1. The Exorcist – As America feared for the morality and sanity of its youth, William Friedkin produced the ultimate stroppy teenager to play on all those suppressed anxieties. Yet there is more to the plot than that – the voyage of Father Carras is by far the most interesting aspect of this film and the scenes where he interplays with the devil inside Regan are the most enduring and terrifying.

You can if you wish, give points for trying to the following: The Omen trilogy, Rosemary’s Baby, The Hills Have Eyes, Scanners, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Last House On The Left, Nightmare On Elm Street and The Thing.

Oh for the golden age of the VCR!!