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The right to water

24/3/2015

Do you know your rights? Would they, for instance, include the right to clean water – enough to drink, at least?

Maybe, maybe not. It seems it depends on how you look at it.

In the words of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights: “Everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of person”.

That’s how the United Nations phrased it in 1948 and the Declaration is still supposed to apply in most countries of the world. Some nations’ justice systems seem to ignore the first part of the statement, and nearly all pass over the second, but I will pass over that for now. Let’s take it that everyone has the right to life.

And since water is one of the essentials of life, let’s assume everyone has a right to water.

In the words of a prominent page on the website of the world’s largest food corporation: “Nestlé chairman Peter Brabeck-Letmathe believes water is a human right.”

Quite right too. But if it’s so fundamental why does Mr Brabeck-Letmathe feel the need to say it?

Could it be because he once appeared to be saying the opposite in a well-publicised interview?

The web page built by his PR team asks itself the question: “Why have some organisations started a petition against Nestlé?”

And gives the answer: “People are using a video interview Mr Brabeck gave in 2005 to say that he thinks all water sources should be privatised. This is simply not true.”

So let’s see what Mr Brabeck actually said in that interview, which is not hard to find online.

He said: “The one opinion, which I think is extreme, is represented by the NGOs, who bang on about declaring water a public right. That means as a human being you should have a right to water. That’s an extreme solution.”

Extreme...

He goes on: “The other view says that water is a foodstuff like any other and like any other foodstuff it should have a market value.

“Personally I believe it’s better to give foodstuff a value so we’re all aware that it has a price.”

And what is the price of water? Or, more pertinently, what is the price of being without it?

In case you’re still in any doubt where Nestlé stands on what really is a life-and-death issue, Mr Brabeck concludes: “I’m still of the opinion that the biggest social responsibility of any CEO is to maintain and ensure the successful and profitable future of his enterprise.”

And he’s not alone in that view, of course. It’s as clear and honest an expression as you could wish for of what global capitalism is all about.

In the words of an excellent post-apocalypic cartoon I saw recently: “Yes, the planet was destroyed. But for a glorious moment back there we made a lot of profit for our shareholders”.

Not that the planet itself is really in any danger. But human life may be if it insists on putting a cash price on everything.

United Nations Resolution 64/292, passed in 2010, made it specific. Everyone on the planet should have a water supply “sufficient and continuous for personal and domestic uses”.

These include “drinking, personal sanitation, washing of clothes, food preparation, personal and household hygiene”.

This is reckoned to add up to between 50 and 100 litres of water a day. Sounds reasonable.

So how much water do you reckon you use each day?

A recent US government survey found that people in Palm Springs, California, were using 3,000 litres a day.

And that’s without counting what goes into everything they eat, wear or drive.

Of course we’re not in California. People in East Anglia don’t guzzle like Americans.

But do you ever eat a burger? Once you take into account what the cattle drink, and how much is used to irrigate the crops that feed them, that can be as much as 17,000 litres of water. Per burger.

Agriculture accounts for 80 per cent of all fresh water use. Four litres for one almond. A head of broccoli, 20 litres.

Why on earth do we go to all the trouble of cleaning water that we’re only going to flush down the loo? It’s good enough to drink – until you put it down the lav. Your used bath or shower water would do the job just as well.

And as for bottled water – that’s possibly the clearest sign there is of the madness of the modern world. I’ll write about that in more detail another time.

But for now just take a look at the figures on the right, some of them published this week for World Water Day (as if we could do without the stuff for the other 364 days of the year). You may need a nice cool drink of water after taking some of them in.

Water facts & figures

783million people (a ninth of the world’s population) officially have no access to a clean water supply
1.5million under-fives die every year from water-borne diseases
Farming accounts for 80% of fresh water use worldwide – 200million litres per second
Americans open 1,500 litres of bottled water per second
40% of bottled water in the USA comes direct from the mains supply
It can cost 500 times as much
Sales of bottled water in Britain topped 2billion litres a year in 2003
It takes 25 bathfuls of water to manufacture one T-shirt
It takes 160 pints of water to make one pint of beer
1,000 pints of water go into every pint of milk
Flushing toilets takes more than a third of the water used in UK homes

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Cash for votes

17/3/2015

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This country is not (yet) America. One of the ways we differ is in our politics. The two systems are so different it can be difficult for either to understand the other.

Odd that both go by the name “democracy” – though exactly what that word means is hard to pin down. Try it and you’ll find it’s as flexible and elusive as a water-snake.

The way the Americans use it to justify an unjustifiable approach to foreign policy, you might think it meant capitalism. Which is odd when you think of all the countries where it’s been synonymous with communism.

The almost religious reverence both Yanks and Brits give to money is, sadly, one of the ways we resemble them.

And there’s an interesting point in that if you ever thought democracy was… well, democratic.

US political commentators routinely assess the race to the White House on the basis of who has most cash to shell out on getting their message across. There are rules (sort of), but the sums spent on promoting the leading contenders are astronomical.

The last US presidential campaign cost about £3.7billion – that’s £12 for each man, woman and child in the land.

It’s been estimated that the 2010 general election in Britain cost about £60million – roughly £1 per head.

And if you’re looking at value for money, you could call it a triumph for Gordon Brown.

David Cameron’s Conservative campaign cost more than twice as much as Labour’s, yet they still scraped into power only with the aid of the LibDems (whose spend was a bit more than half that of Labour).

So what might that tell us about the 2015 campaign?

If cash buys votes, it should be a shoo-in for the Conservatives, who are expected to spend three times as much as Labour.

As the party of the rich, and of big business, they have much wealthier backers.

And – though you probably didn’t notice at the time – they recently changed the rules. The limit on what candidates can spend was raised by 23 per cent to a total of £32.7m.

That’s still some way short of the £78m the Tories are believed to have raised in this time of “austerity”. But it’s well beyond what Labour can afford, let alone any of the smaller contenders.

The Green Party, for example, is almost wholly reliant on what its members can chip in out of their own pockets. And most of them aren’t rich.

The green energy company Ecotricity gives the Greens £40 for each new customer who signs up. It gave Labour £250,000. And that’s small beer alongside the £2.5m other power companies have given the Tories.

Next time you see an election poster, leaflet or broadcast, stop and think who might have paid for it. And what they might hope to gain.

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Small nations, big decisions

17/3/2015

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Terry Pratchett, who died last week, was a man of good humour, intelligence and decency. The dignity with which he faced Alzheimer’s disease, and the positive use he put it to, set a great example for anyone facing adversity. He was a great man.

He was also a great writer, though I never really “got” his surreal Discworld novels.

If he’d written nothing else – and in fact he wrote around 60 books – his place in the pantheon would be assured by his 2008 novel Nation.

Marketed as a book for “young adults”, it is superb writing for adult adults too. As clever as it’s gripping, sharp and warm in its characterisation, it is a thrilling book in all the best senses. And it’s deeply thought-provoking on a number of vital issues, such as race, gender, science and religion.

It was timely – prescient, even – in its depiction of a Pacific island community overwhelmed by a catastrophic tidal wave.

I recommend it heartily. Which seems rather grim so soon after the near-obliteration of life as the people of Vanuatu have known it.

Hearts must go out to those poor people whose homes, loved ones and livelihoods have been swept away by a storm of unprecedented ferocity.

Unprecedented, but don’t call it a freak. “Freak” weather events are getting commoner. The chances are more cyclones like the inaptly named Pam will happen – soon, and frequently.

It’s inevitable, and right, that countries around the world should rush to Vanuatu’s aid.

But – and I hope this doesn’t sound too heartless – I wonder if anyone should really be talking about “rebuilding” the country. To do so might be a case of being kind to be cruel. Putting people back in the path of peril.

The world needs to address the issue of climate change much more urgently than it has yet done.

A vital part of that must be accepting the changes that are already inevitable.

Which, to be brutal, may mean small island nations like Vanuatu and the low-lying Tuvalu will not be habitable for much longer.

Perhaps, rather than rebuilding flattened homes we should be offering the victims safe places to build new lives.

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Tintin in perspective

11/3/2015

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Can you name a famous Belgian? It used to be one of those stock jokes: supposedly no one could do it. In fact I could name quite a list – probably a longer one than I could for any other country of 11million people.

And that’s not just because of Belgium’s proud cycling history or its current outstanding crop of footballers. I can think of a couple of tennis stars (Kim Clijsters and Justine Henin), one pop singer (remember Plastic Bertrand?), a map-maker (Mercator’s projection is the world we all know), and a catalogue of painters from the Brueghels to Magritte.

Then, of course, there’s that trio of brilliant investigators, Poirot, Maigret and Tintin. Probably the most famous Belgians of all – and all of them fictional.

I have little interest in the improbable workings of Agatha Christie’s little grey cells. Maigret is more plausible and engaging, his settings and psychology grittier and more real – but, let’s face it, Simenon rather churned them out too.

But Tintin… I’ve been a fan for more than 50 years.

It’s probably fair to say his creator Hergé (a truly great Belgian) did more to form my world view more than any other writer except Shakespeare. And since I was still in my earlier formative years when the Tintin bug bit me, he may even have the edge over the Bard.

It’s undoubtedly down to the depictions in ‘Prisoners of the Sun’ and ‘Tintin in Tibet’ that Peru and the Himalayas have been on my want-to-visit list for as long as I can remember. And yet at the same time (since I haven’t yet visited either) retained in my mind a sense of unreality – or perhaps hyper-reality.

Tintin’s support for the underdog, his habit of going to the rescue of small, picked-on African, Indian, Chinese or Peruvian children, sets a great example.

As great as his habit of helping out countries threatened by aggressive neighbours. China in the 1930s under Japanese domination in ‘The Blue Lotus’. Syldavia menaced by Borduria in ‘King Ottokar’s Sceptre’.

Hergé was accused, unfairly, after the Second World War of collaborating with the Nazis. Yes, he went on working after Belgium fell under Nazi occupation. Most people who could, did. As would be the case in any country under such circumstances.

His critics tend to overlook the bravery of writing – in 1938 and 1939, up to the very brink of war – a story pitting brave peasants against the grey-uniformed aggression of a military predator.

Syldavia is a blatant amalgam of Austria, Czechoslovakia, Romania and Yugoslavia. Borduria is plainly Germany. Its brutal leader Musstler is part Mussolini, part Hitler.

The symbolism, and the satire, could hardly have been plainer. At that time, and in a little country which had been brutally invaded by the Germans less than 25 years earlier, it was a remarkable book for a children’s author to produce.

No one, surely, could deny that Hergé was a brilliant artist, a brilliant evoker of exotic places and a brilliant creator of characters and character comedy. And from admittedly rather ropy beginnings, he improved quickly and went on improving.

The fact that Tintin himself is something of a blank at the centre makes it easier for readers to put themselves in his place, fulfilling many a fantasy - as surely he did for Hergé himself. And it serves to highlight the cast of glorious characters he is surrounded by - his irrepressible, ever-faithful dog Snowy, the irascible Captain Haddock, the inept Thompson twins, the crazed genius Professor Calculus.

The naked and simplistic anti-Communist propaganda of his first adventure, 'Tintin in the Land of the Soviets', the racist portrayal of Africans in 'Tintin in the Congo' and the 'comic' savaging of wild animals in the same book are embarrassing today. But no more embarrassing than they soon were to Hergé.

In both books he was collaborating - with the crypto-fascist editor of the paper that employed him.

He was just 21 when the Soviets story was published, 22 when the Congo adventure appeared. Both merely repeated the prejudices prevalent in his society at the time - and he quickly outgrew them. He described both as "youthful indiscretions" and for most of his life they were not re-published.

I have come late to these early stories. My single-volume copy of the pair of them came wrapped in a warning that “some people might find the portrayal of African characters offensive”. Any decent person would, frankly – except that any value the books have now is historical.

It is interesting to Tintin fans to see his origins, to realise how rapidly he would develop. And they are interesting as a snapshot of European attitudes of the time – which was 1928-1930.

Within a few years Hergé himself came to see those attitudes as archaic, ignorant and bigoted – as they were. Will many of today’s common opinions – on the subject of immigrants, for example – seem any more enlightened when we come to look back in a few years? Somehow I don’t think they will.

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Litter - tip of a global iceberg

5/3/2015

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Driving through Essex on my way to London, I spotted a new sign. It said: “Picking up your litter puts road workers’ lives at risk.”

Which is a slightly odd way of putting it. Does it really mean: “Don’t pick up your litter, just leave it where it is”?

I suppose it makes you think, though, which must be at least part of the point. And once I’d got past admiring the correct use of the apostrophe, what I thought about was those road workers.

On another recent journey – this one into Norwich along a congested A146 – I passed a small group in hi-vis jackets walking the verge with litter-pickers. And I thought what a truly ghastly job that must be.

Aside from the very real danger posed by the passing vehicles, the constant noise of them, the fumes and muck from the tyres must be a constant background irritation. Not to mention something of a health hazard.

And as for the litter itself – trying to keep down that ever-rising tide must feel like Canute ordering the North Sea to retreat.

Walk along any busy out-of-town road and you can’t fail to be appalled by the quantity of rubbish strewing the ditches and hedgerows.

It’s hard to see how much difference the very occasional team of garbage-grabbers can make. Or the odd cunningly-worded sign.

Years ago I wrote that the companies whose packaging makes up most of the drifting rubbish mountain should be made to pay for its proper disposal.

It’s interesting, then, to see that this idea has surfaced, sort of, in the corridors of power.

In January Parliament’s Communities and Local Government Committee took evidence in its inquiry on litter.

Wakefield’s council leader Peter Box told them: “Keeping streets clean costs taxpayers nearly £1billion each year.”

He spoke about “the unacceptable levels of litter outside some fast-food outlets and the piles of cigarette butts outside some pubs, as well as discarded chewing-gum on high-street pavements, which costs each town centre £60,000 a year to clean up”.

And he said: “A number of councils have been pioneering tough but fair approaches. Alongside public campaigns, many are now asking businesses to clean up and provide bins outside their premises.”

Which is good, I suppose, as far as it goes. A sticking plaster applied to a wound that needs major surgery.

A few bins and a few brooms may make a small difference in town-centre streets but none at all to the problem of a trash-filled countryside.

How many plastic bottles and old crisp packets are lying right now along the highways and byways of Norfolk? How many tons of aluminium lie in the form of crushed cans around the roads of Britain?

Can we expect Walkers and Coca-Cola and all the other purveyors of brightly packaged drinks and snacks to pay for a proper clean-up?

I’d like to think so. And I’d like to see a herd of winged pigs swoop elegantly past my upper-storey window.

Martin Kersh doesn’t think the companies behind the problem should have to pay anything. Even for the rubbish littering the pavements right outside their doors.

He argues: “It’s illogical to say companies create litter. Businesses create the products, but no product throws itself on the ground without consumer intervention. What is needed is strict enforcement of legislation regarding littering.”

Mr Kersh is executive director of the Foodservice Packaging Association, so he would say that, wouldn’t he?

The real problem is not the unsightliness of old food wrappers at the roadside. It’s not even the harm old bits of plastic can do wildlife – which is unquantifiable, but real.

It’s the sheer wastefulness of a species steadily and pointlessly turning the natural resources of the world into a pollution nightmare.

Out in the wild ocean is an enormous area known to geographers as the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. It’s full of old bits of discarded plastic washed there by sea currents from around the world.

No one knows quite how much plastic is there, how big the patch will grow or how much damage it will do. But if one thing sums up our trashing of the planet, that’s it.

The rubbish by our roadsides is the merest tip of a global iceberg. It’s a sobering thought what may happen when the berg starts to melt down.

Meanwhile, before you chuck that fag packet out of your car window, spare a thought for the poor road worker who may have to pick it up. It may be a fairly thankless life, but it’s a life.

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I had the Football League Cup on my desk the other day. Well, the desk of the bloke working next to me. Being a Liverpool supporter (semi-final losers), he wasn’t that impressed.

In a curious stunt, the trophy apparently made a tour of national paper sports desks in the couple of days before it was presented to Chelsea at Wembley. Whether this garnered the sponsors a single extra public mention, I rather doubt.

But they had another go on final day itself, delivering boxloads of pies and gravy to those same teams of working journalists.

I suppose they couldn’t really give away freebies of the sponsors’ actual product. Pity really. It’s a bank.

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The right to water

Water facts & figures

Cash for votes

Small nations, big decisions

Tintin in perspective

Litter - tip of a global iceberg

the Semmens blog

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