The recent conviction of the actor Chris Langham was marked by an almost complete absence—with the honourable exception of Mary Warnock—of voices pointing out that, however serious his crime (and downloading images of child rape is serious), it was not morally equivalent to the abuse of children. In the understandable revulsion many in our society feel for paedophiles, important distinctions can be lost: in particular between having lustful thoughts towards children (which may be a moral failing, but isn't and shouldn't be a crime) and physically abusing them. The Langham case inhabited a complex middle ground: although he did not abuse anyone, he was complicit in abuse because he paid to download images of child pornography. It is probably right that he went to prison for this—but surely he should have been spared the full force of the press's vindictive "throw away the key" mentality, and even been shown some sympathy. One might also have expected civil rights groups such as Liberty—which are ever eager to campaign on behalf of those prosecuted for "thought crimes" such as countenancing terrorism—to have pointed some of this out.
MCB comeback?
With the fasting month of Ramadan approaching, can the Muslim Council of Britain expect a "Happy Eid" card from Gordon Brown? The MCB spent the final year of the Blair era locked out of Downing Street, parliament and much of Whitehall while the government lent its support to a rainbow coalition of its ideological rivals. These included the Sufi Muslim Council, the British Muslim Forum (a network of Barelwi imams led by social scientist Zareen Ahmed), and a rare secular group, the Progressive British Muslims. The MCB stood accused of being soft and inept on extremism and of having links to Islamist movements abroad, and was roundly criticised for its long-standing boycott of Holocaust memorial day (HMD). Its punishment included the cancellation of a DfID grant to popularise the UN millennium development goals among British Muslims. But the MCB's year in the wilderness has had two unintended consequences: some distance from the former PM perked up its anti-establishment image at the grass roots; at the same time, public criticism of its childish HMD boycott has strengthened the council's modernisers (led by Abdul Bari, secretary-general, who is close to Tariq Ramadan).
Interestingly, the treasury under Gordon Brown ignored advice to go cold on MCB. Brown wants London to become a hub for the world's £300bn Islamic finance industry, and had been working with the council to see how this might happen. Last June, the MCB put together a conference where Brown was joined by several international Muslim grandees. So expect to see a semi-chastened MCB back in the corridors of power.
French lit gets real
France's rentrée littéraire, or autumn publishing bonanza, is upon us. This year 727 novels are to be published, timed to be eligible for the Prix Goncourt, the Médicis, the Femina and so on. Already commentators are talking about a new direction in French fiction. There's a move away from turgid, Paris-centric autofiction—and towards realism. Anglo-Saxon novelists like Jonathan Coe have long been popular in France because they write about the real world; now French authors, too, are dirtying their hands with topics such as discrimination in tower blocks, free-market consumerism and the plight of refugees in the suburbs.
Even more surprising, however, is the fact that French novelists are, for the first time, fictionalising the lives of real people—not a concept that the French (who were perturbed by the film The Queen) are particularly comfortable with. Without doubt the event of this year's rentrée is Yasmina Reza's new novel L'aube le soir ou la nuit (Dawn, evening or night). Best known for her successful play Art, Reza (below) was invited into the Sarko-circus on the campaign trail, and witnessed policy meetings and private soul-searchings as well as the big public spectacles. L'aube le soir ou la nuit is a close portrait of a highly ambitious politician in the course of his (successful) presidential campaign. It's total fiction, of course.
Adonis resigns
Andrew Adonis, minister for schools (and Prospect reviewer) has, reluctantly, had to resign his position as the official biographer of Roy Jenkins. The agreement with Jenkins's widow, Jennifer, was that Adonis would start work full time on the book when Tony Blair left office—the assumption being that arch-Blairite Adonis would get sacked from his job as a junior education minister. But thanks to Gordon Brown's unexpected political generosity, Adonis was forced to choose between power and the pen. Equally unexpected is the new candidate for the Jenkins job—Adam Sisman. Sisman is a literary biographer, with books on AJP Taylor, Boswell and the friendship between Wordsworth and Coleridge to his name. Lack of familiarity with the political scene may not be a big disadvantage, but surely no one but Adonis—an intimate of both Jenkins and Blair—can write the final chapter of Jenkins's life: his friendship with the New Labour leader.
Happy Trevor
After a bumpy start, Trevor Phillips is sounding more confident these days about his commission for equality and human rights. Following the recruitment of foreign office high-flyer Nicola Brewer, two more biggish names have been lured to the commission. Patrick Diamond, ex-No 10 strategist and head of centre-left think tank Policy Network, has been recruited as director of policy. (Policy Network is looking for a continental European to replace him.) And John Wadham, ex-head of Liberty and number two at the police complaints commission, is head of the legal department.
Reading Lolita in Arabic?
Many were shocked when, in 2003, a UN report announced that only 330 books from other languages were translated into Arabic annually; and that, in the last 1,100 years, only 10,000 books have ever been translated into Arabic—the same number Spain translates into Spanish in a single year. Western countries, however, are little better—fewer than 50 new books a year currently make it from Arabic into any other language. But all this may be changing. Earlier this year, Abu Dhabi's annual book fair (left)—organised for the first time in association with Frankfurt—attracted 400,000 visitors and 406 publishers from 46 countries, and saw the launch of Kalima, the largest ever independent foundation dedicated to the translation, publishing and distribution of foreign titles in Arabic. Headed by the Egyptian businessman Karim Nagy and funded by Abu Dhabi's crown prince, Kalima initially plans to bring 100 western works to the Arab world, and to increase this by 2010 to 500 titles per year. The final list, announced later this year, is sure to make waves.
Foes reunited?
There is a solution to India and Pakistan's fractious relations, writes Kamran Nazeer: 60 years after partition, the two countries should reunite. After all, they have a lot in common. Thanks to Bollywood, the internet and satellite television, India and Pakistan are more similar culturally than ever before. Pakistan's annual economic growth (over 7 per cent) is not far off India's, and its per capita GDP is only a third lower. Both countries have weak central governments and greater strength at local level, so gradual unification, accompanied by a federalist settlement, may improve rather than impair government.
But since unification is not on the agenda in either country, perhaps the case should be stated more bluntly: the benefits would fall entirely to those who want a liberal, democratic and secular future, and these people should take up the cause. The power of Pakistan's military is propped up by the perceived threat of India, which makes military muscle appear crucial: remove the threat, and Pakistan's citizens would be more likely to enjoy real democracy. Communalists in both countries would lose out if they were reunited: in an expanded, more Muslim India, the electoral advantage enjoyed by Hindu supremacists would be reduced; and Pakistan's Islamicists would no longer be able to bolster their support by perpetuating the myth of Pakistan as a Muslim "homeland" (there are roughly as many Muslims in India as there are in Pakistan).
The only real drawback, in fact, is sporting: the cricket team of a United States of India would be so strong that the rest of the world might give up playing on the grounds that they had no chance.
Save our Storyville
One of the biggest victims of the BBC's recent cutbacks may be the documentary strand Storyville. The strand, which for ten years has provided a mainstream television home for the "authored documentary," is rumoured to be facing budget cuts of 60 per cent. Annual screenings could fall from 45 to 20 a year.
Aside from the quality of its output, Storyville is admired for the creative freedom it allows documentary-makers, and for regularly giving breaks to new talent. But the reason many people believe the BBC is shooting itself in the foot is that Storyville has a multiplier effect that extends way beyond its own output.
It works like this. In 2003, Ofcom ruled that the rights of broadcasters to programmes they acquired from independent production companies only extended to five years on British television screens—all other rights, including international syndication and video/DVD, would stay with the producer. One consequence was a drop in acquisition fees, meaning production companies had to look elsewhere, often abroad, to fund their programmes. Not only has Storyville helped spur the global rise in popularity of the documentary format, but the power of the brand has proved immensely helpful to documentary producers seeking third-party funding—the Storyville seal of approval strengthens their hand in negotiations. And according to one insider, Storyville itself earns the Beeb £4-5 for every £1 it costs. Expect a final decision on its future over the next couple of months; hopes are high that BBC decision-makers will change their mind.