Thrashing Out The Issues
Time for an open thread, I think. But first,
Yes, let’s squeeze in another visit to the Guardian‘s Dining Across the Divide series, in which “strangers from across the divide” – albeit strangers with, very often, eerily similar opinions and a common choice of newspaper – “discuss the divisive issues of our time” and attempt to “bridge their political differences.” Should any significant differences actually materialise.
Yes, a series in which the entire breadth of conceivable political thought – as imagined by the Guardian‘s intellectual powerhouse Zoe Williams – is given an airing. And where left-leaning teachers, left-leaning writers and left-leaning university administrators discuss just how awful and stupid those non-leftwing people are, and whether Net Zero is super-imperative or just really, really important.
A series in which totally random Guardian readers – sorry, totally random members of the public – encounter “the opposite point of view,” while chewing on kale and butternut squash. Except that they both vote Green and are named Tamsin and Matilda.
This week, the clashing titans are BJ, a vegan and Lib Dem-voting writer, and Toby, a Labour-voting student now enthused by the Greens.
As you’d imagine, there’s much laughter and gaiety:
“I don’t see there’s any debate,” says Toby.
It’s all going terribly well, this debate thing.
Sadly, details of any clashing are for the most part left to the imagination. Filthy details are few and far between. Though BJ is slightly more concerned by exactness of terminology, and by antisemitism, of which both disapprove.
Says BJ,
I know. It’s just one blow after another.
To which, Toby replies,
At which point, I could just leave this here.
And this.
And this.
And this.
And this.
And this.
And this.
And this.
And…
Well, we’ll be here all day. And we must push on.
And so, during dessert:
Again, it’s all clash, clash, clash. Whether either participant is married or in some way entangled is, alas, not divulged.
And in a final, shocking twist:
Do take a moment to recover from all that spirited thrusting.
Previously in this bare-knuckle arena of Guardian debate:
Or, in effect, to themselves.
As commenter Rafi quipped following the above,
‘I think Trump is Hitler but in a slightly different way.’
THE DIVIDE!
Well, indeed. On poking through the series, of the three Conservative voters I could find, two were very soft Conservative, in the sense of actually voting for Labour, and the token Reform voter was oddly steeped in the Guardian tongue, showing great enthusiasm for “wealth taxes,” and disliking Mrs Thatcher.
This seems to be a common pattern – lefties and, well, almost lefties bonding over their dislike of Reform or Mr Trump. There’s very little substance to be had. It’s chiefly leftist boilerplate with some occasional and oddly flaccid pushback. Hardly representative of rebuttals one might offer. And not exactly capturing the tensions of our time.
Update, via the comments:
EmC quotes this,
And adds, not unfairly,
Quite.
Among the many miracles conjured into being by the Green Party in Brighton were numerous, long strikes interrupting basic services; residents having to wade through mountains of uncollected garbage for weeks on end; subsequent invasions by rats; plans to abolish car use in the city; and – despite the party’s ecological mania – the lowest recycling rates in the country.
Not to mention the endless manufactured congestion and astronomical parking fees, due to the council’s hostility to car ownership; the loss of tourism revenue as a direct result of these policies; countless failures to maintain simple infrastructure; and pavements overgrown with weeds to a degree that endangered the elderly and called to mind some dystopian science fiction.
For those unfamiliar with the farce in question, long-time Brighton resident Julie Burchill conveyed something of its scope and flavour:
And what every voter wants is a city councillor laughing at their frustration when trying to do formerly simple things. A frustration entirely the fault of said councillor’s own party and their bizarre policies. In this case, a policy based on a belief that when people go to the local dump – sorry, recycling centre – they do so by bicycle.
Readers are welcome to picture Brighton residents making three-mile journeys by pedal bike with old fridges and unwanted microwaves strapped to their backs.
Oh yes, I almost forgot. Open thread. Share ye links and bicker, baby.
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Their feelings don’t care about the facts.
In case David is still feeling nostalgic for his sweaty adolescence, a little something from Mandeville’s The Fable of the Bees:
Yes. Somebody laid out multiples of that $10K down payment. Recovering that over however many years with indeterminate inflation and the real interest payments is where the risk lies. Right now, the guy with the physical car is way ahead of the deal. Well ahead. Whoever backed the loan is depending upon some other third party, or fourth or whatever party, (costing whatever…but not cheap) to successfully recover that vehicle in its mostly current condition if payments don’t show up. And who is paying for the insurance, the real insurance on the real value of the car? I’m not in the insurance or loan or any such trust business, but there is no way I would bet multiple tens of thousands that that guy…and his baby momma…are going to remain solvent for 16 months, let alone 160. The probability that both of them along with that sweet ride disappearing, IMNSHO, far exceeds the probability of ever getting that car back, let alone enough of those payments. Which is why I am highly suspicious as to whose money is really on the line.
Band name.
Pretty much.
And which is why it’s possible to have a quite long and involved discussion in which someone angrily asserts something that isn’t true, or even logically possible, and you politely explain why they’re wrong and wheel out evidence, and you go through a whole process, back and forth, with more evidence and pointing out more flaws, and they can’t refute any part of what you’ve said, which annoys them even more, and then they storm off in a huff.
And then, days or weeks later, you see the same person, somewhere else, making exactly the same bizarre claims with the same angry attitude, as if no long and detailed conversation had ever taken place. And they’re utterly ungrateful for the time and effort you’ve expended on trying to point out their mistakes in a civil way.
The latter point, I know, may be asking too much. But still.