In the glamorous world of international diplomacy, a posting to Kyrgyzstan is, Sordel would guess, not the most contested of vacancies. Still, ambassador is ambassador, and Tatiana Gfoeller-Volkoff was presumably delighted when she was appointed by President George W. Bush as part of his initiative to get "all things that are difficult to spell" into the same file. Shortly after her arrival, she attended a brunch in the capitol, Bishkek (you knew that, right?), little guessing that her moment of Destiny had arrived.
When one is born with the accurate transcription of a sneeze where a surname should be, one has to try that little bit harder, so it is hardly surprising that Gfoeller attempted to spice up her reports back to the State Department: not least when the opportunity arose to venture a sketch of Prince Andrew. What is remarkable about this storm in a teacup, however, is not that she took exception to him, but that she took exception to things which seems so very unexceptional.
Among the comments recorded are his declaration that the investigation into Britain's Al-Yamama deal with Saudi-Arabia was a bad thing. The British government clearly thought so too, since it intervened to prevent the investigation. The Duke of York was hardly off-message in voicing his criticism.
Other titbits thought worthwhile for addition to the State Department's file include the Prince's referring to the current adventure in Central Asia as "The Great Game" which, one would have thought, is neither controversial nor novel.
And that the U.S. has no sense of Geography, which - given that it blithely invaded two countries which together have an area of over a million square kilometres using an army more suited in size to the occupation of Cornwall - is an assertion voiced and proven in the space of two sentences.
So the question that arises is not whether Prince Andrew has demonstrated a shocking lack of delicacy, but whether the Diplomatic Corps is really worth its cost if the intelligence data that it is providing is really of this extraordinarily low quality. It seems that the U.S. is gloating over the possession of a hoard of international secrets that even Hello magazine would consign unpublished to the editorial shredder.
As for Prince Andrew ... well, given that he is the former husband of Sarah, Duchess of York, he must be used to public revelations a good deal more embarrassing than these.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Alas Woolas
Generally speaking, a party in opposition has little opportunity to demonstrate its suicidal lack of political judgement.
Even, however, where little opportunity exists, Labour MPs will heed its gentle knock, which is perhaps why they are lining up to voice their support for disgraced former ballot-swindler Phil Woolas.
Phil, who has only appeared in these pages or the public imagination once previously - whilst being verbally spanked to universal delight and approbation by renowned Gurkhaphile Joanna Lumley - has again been the victim of public matriarchal chastisement. This time it was at the gloved hand of Harriet Harman, who told the Resident Intellectual that while a judicial review might reinstate the mendacious Phil, it could not exonerate him of the accusation that he knowingly lied in order to win an election, and he would therefore not be reinstated as a Labour MP under any circumstances.
By any sane standard, this should have seen an end to the story, but seemingly not so, and for reasons that may point to a deeper schism in Labour ranks.
Harman, bug-eyed sophomore grandee of the Labour rump, has also become its Cassandra: universally vilified despite doing the obviously right thing. Having presided over a leadership election process that delivered the "wrong" Miliband as leader, she was marked for death when the loser, David, visibly reproached her for applauding his brother at the Labour Party Conference.
If Harman, however, is regarded as an Ediband loyalist, then her antagonist is a doyenne of the Daviband insurgency. When Daviband needed someone to run his sleazy leadership campaign, he turned to Phil, who proceeded to bring to national politics the approach that had worked so well at Oldham East and Saddleworth. Although the wholly negative campaign, which depicted Ediband as a raving Marxist, has Phil's grubby fingerprints all over it, he actually nominated Diane Abbott, in what he termed "an act of pluralism" (a.k.a. "an attempt to dilute the left-wing vote").
The man whom the rest of us regard as a festering canker on British politics is, to the Davibandians, a poster-boy for political effectiveness.
Of course, this cheers Sordel as a rotting pear does the fruitfly. What could be better for the cynical onlooker than the hyenas of Millbank angrily contesting the last bone of political power?
It is worth acknowledging, however, that for Elwyn Watkins, the Liberal Democrat candidate mercilessly defamed by Woolas, the smear campaign was perhaps less entertaining. A sober account of the judgement in the Saddleworth News reminds us that the thrust of the lies was to imply that Watkins was pro-Islamist in a constituency with racial tensions, which goes rather beyond the rough-and-tumble of regular politics.
There is only one group of people in the world who will question the severity of Phil's punishment, and they all take tea with David Miliband.
Even, however, where little opportunity exists, Labour MPs will heed its gentle knock, which is perhaps why they are lining up to voice their support for disgraced former ballot-swindler Phil Woolas.
Phil, who has only appeared in these pages or the public imagination once previously - whilst being verbally spanked to universal delight and approbation by renowned Gurkhaphile Joanna Lumley - has again been the victim of public matriarchal chastisement. This time it was at the gloved hand of Harriet Harman, who told the Resident Intellectual that while a judicial review might reinstate the mendacious Phil, it could not exonerate him of the accusation that he knowingly lied in order to win an election, and he would therefore not be reinstated as a Labour MP under any circumstances.
By any sane standard, this should have seen an end to the story, but seemingly not so, and for reasons that may point to a deeper schism in Labour ranks.
Harman, bug-eyed sophomore grandee of the Labour rump, has also become its Cassandra: universally vilified despite doing the obviously right thing. Having presided over a leadership election process that delivered the "wrong" Miliband as leader, she was marked for death when the loser, David, visibly reproached her for applauding his brother at the Labour Party Conference.
If Harman, however, is regarded as an Ediband loyalist, then her antagonist is a doyenne of the Daviband insurgency. When Daviband needed someone to run his sleazy leadership campaign, he turned to Phil, who proceeded to bring to national politics the approach that had worked so well at Oldham East and Saddleworth. Although the wholly negative campaign, which depicted Ediband as a raving Marxist, has Phil's grubby fingerprints all over it, he actually nominated Diane Abbott, in what he termed "an act of pluralism" (a.k.a. "an attempt to dilute the left-wing vote").
The man whom the rest of us regard as a festering canker on British politics is, to the Davibandians, a poster-boy for political effectiveness.
Of course, this cheers Sordel as a rotting pear does the fruitfly. What could be better for the cynical onlooker than the hyenas of Millbank angrily contesting the last bone of political power?
It is worth acknowledging, however, that for Elwyn Watkins, the Liberal Democrat candidate mercilessly defamed by Woolas, the smear campaign was perhaps less entertaining. A sober account of the judgement in the Saddleworth News reminds us that the thrust of the lies was to imply that Watkins was pro-Islamist in a constituency with racial tensions, which goes rather beyond the rough-and-tumble of regular politics.
There is only one group of people in the world who will question the severity of Phil's punishment, and they all take tea with David Miliband.
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