Progressiveness and the Tribe

As a for­mer sup­porter of the Lib­eral Democ­rats, I found my sup­port lean­ing toward Labour due to the Lib Dems’ ongo­ing dis­as­trous coali­tion with the Con­ser­v­a­tive party.  But in truth, the Labour party are just a con­ve­nient polit­i­cal marker for some of my opin­ions on eco­nomic and social pol­icy.  What I really care about, I sup­pose, is progress – chang­ing things that are bro­ken, try­ing new ideas until we dis­cover some­thing that makes the coun­try work better.

But all three main par­ties now label them­selves as “Pro­gres­sive”. (I sup­pose “regres­sive” isn’t much of a vote-winner.)  The minor par­ties mostly have lim­ited agen­das that make it impos­si­ble to sup­port them to the exclu­sion of all oth­ers.  Who, then, do I vote for? The truth is prob­a­bly that none of the UK’s polit­i­cal par­ties are as pro­gres­sive as I would like, but more than that — a politi­cian being pro­gres­sive on my behalf isn’t really what I want at all.

I want to design the future.

Then I want to engi­neer the future.

Then I want to sit back and think “bloody hell, we made that.”

That’s what gets me out of bed and halfway across the county five morn­ings a week, what keeps me sketch­ing inter­faces and gets me through design meet­ings, what keeps me cod­ing and sol­der­ing and get­ting cov­ered in grease and salt-spray.

I’m not pre­tend­ing that I could engi­neer the future of this coun­try by myself, or that I should have any more of a say than the other sixty mil­lion of us, but I’d like to at least have some input besides a sim­ple vote.  As far as I’m aware, there exist only two ways of hav­ing this kind of input — sell your soul for a career in pol­i­tics, or be ignored on e-petitions.

All of this leads me to the con­clu­sion that hav­ing our voice heard and our expe­ri­ence utilised on our own terms is not some­thing that a nation state can offer its cit­i­zens.  Our voices are heard and our expe­ri­ence utilised by our fam­i­lies and friends; at our places of work — tribes of a few hun­dred peo­ple at most — but not on a national scale

Is there some use­ful way for cit­i­zens to help engi­neer their future at the state level, or are we rel­e­gated to hav­ing that kind of influ­ence only in our hundred-strong social tribes?  Are there any coun­tries that are sig­nif­i­cantly bet­ter at this than ours, coun­tries that progress with heavy cit­i­zen involve­ment?  Am I dream­ing of an impos­si­ble soci­ety, and most impor­tantly of all, should I go to bed and sleep it off instead of fill­ing the inter­net with my ranting?

When Science met Big Society

Yesterday’s announce­ment that the Arts and Human­i­ties Research Coun­cil will, on pain of los­ing fund­ing, devote a “sig­nif­i­cant” amount of time to study­ing the notion of “Big Soci­ety” is frankly shock­ing. If it is indeed true, it smacks of incred­i­ble ego­tism on the part of the government.

The government’s money is the people’s money — if we’re not going to leave the job of decid­ing what to research to the actual researchers, why should the government’s whims be involved? If there were a ref­er­en­dum on it now, what pro­por­tion of the tax-paying pub­lic would label the Big Soci­ety as a steam­ing pile of shite that we shouldn’t be throw­ing any more money at?

Con­versely, how many of the government’s other sweep­ing changes — the pro­gramme of cuts (Warn­ing: least impar­tial sum­mary ever) that we are now sub­ject to, for exam­ple — have been the sub­ject of such hopefully-independent research?

A future UKIP gov­ern­ment promises to ban global warm­ing research, and apart from the cli­mate change deniers, I’m con­fi­dent the pub­lic would not sup­port that par­tic­u­lar aspect of gov­ern­men­tal med­dling in research. So why are we putting up with this?

(And on a related note, does any­one else think it’s a lit­tle odd to com­mis­sion research on a pol­icy after com­mit­ting to it?)

tl,dr: Hands off mah sci­ence, government.

“Meh” to AV

There are four months left before Britain goes to the polls to decide whether to adopt the Alter­na­tive Vote sys­tem, and already the #yes2av and #no2av cam­paigns are hot­ting up on Twit­ter.

Barely a year ago, I would have shouted “yes” with all my might — the Labour incum­bents were more into spin and sur­veil­lance than the redis­tri­b­u­tion of wealth, and the oppo­si­tion Con­ser­v­a­tives appealed even less. But AV would have helped the Lib Dems immensely, maybe giv­ing them a shot at power. As the party of the young, in my eyes maybe more a party of the Left than Labour was, I was all for the Lib Dems hav­ing as much of a chance as pos­si­ble to win seats in the House of Commons.

What a dif­fer­ence a year can make.

The Tories are dec­i­mat­ing the pub­lic sec­tor and some­how still believe that char­ity and the free mar­ket will make it all bet­ter. The Lib Dems are com­plicit and must be on course for break­ing the major­ity of their elec­tion pledges. Labour have a new leader who doesn’t seem to do any­thing apart from offer the occa­sional doom­ful pre­dic­tion about the coalition’s cuts.

The Greens would have me out of a job, UKIP are crazy, the BNP are evil, and I can’t bring myself to run as a Pirate Party can­di­date because I believe in far more than an end to abuse of copyright.

Who would I vote for if a gen­eral elec­tion were called tomor­row? Nobody.

In fact, the cur­rent polit­i­cal cli­mate has almost brought me full cir­cle on the sub­ject of the Alter­na­tive Vote. Under a sys­tem like AV, smaller par­ties are likely to do bet­ter. But with a three-(major-)party sys­tem, it’s unlikely to be the case that we’ll see a Labour-Pirate or a Conservative-UKIP coali­tion or any­thing inter­est­ing — it’s still going to be Convervative-Lib Dem or Labour-Lib Dem, even with AV. And all that does is con­tinue the last 13 years’ rush for the cen­tre ground.

The Tories are rush­ing for it so fast that they’re alien­at­ing half their party. The Lib Dems, in the­ory, define the cen­tre, and despite elect­ing the younger Miliband, the Labour party has yet to decide if and how it’s going to stop its New Labour love affair with ‘Mid­dle England’.

What we absolutely don’t need, for the sake of the next generation’s inter­est in pol­i­tics, is an unend­ing suc­ces­sion of coali­tions, each one indis­tin­guish­able from the last.

So if it could hap­pen, bring on the Labour-Pirate coali­tion and the Conservative-UKIP coali­tion. Any­thing to keep things inter­est­ing. But if it can’t — and unless the Lib Dems utterly toast their pop­u­lar­ity, it can’t — then let’s have the next gen­er­a­tion of Mag­gie Thatcher and Michael Foot, let’s have some peo­ple with real ide­o­log­i­cal dif­fer­ences fight­ing it out in the Commons.

Bring me some­one I can believe in.

Until then, “meh” to AV.

Dystopia Fetishism and the Fall of #Solidarity

Two weeks ago, I sat in this same warm office, look­ing out at the cold world out­side. And this is what I saw. I saw Lau­rie Penny’s Spi­der Jerusalem-esque piece for the New States­man, cov­er­ing the stu­dent riots, and I saw Wik­ileaks prepar­ing to dump 250,000 clas­si­fied US Embassy cables on the world. It all felt like a sud­den rush towards the hor­rid, glo­ri­ous dystopia that as a British cit­i­zen I am required to fetishise. (c.f. H.G. Wells, George Orwell, John Wyn­d­ham et al.)

One of those retains the abil­ity to stir up more trou­ble. The other, I fear, is now a lost cause.

Being approx­i­mately a social­ist, and hav­ing voted for the Lib­eral Democ­rats as I felt they were the only almost-credible party of the Left, I was almost warmed by the scale of the protests — not only were the Lib Dems’s bro­ken elec­tion promises not being taken lightly, but only six months in to a gov­ern­ment of the centre-Right, we were already see­ing the peo­ple up in arms.

The vio­lence involved in some of those protests, of which I of course do not approve, was referred to in the media at the time as being the actions of a “hard core” of pro­test­ers intent on stir­ring up trou­ble. The reac­tion of the pro­test­ers to that was often along the lines of “no, we all feel that strongly!”.

I won­der if they’ll be say­ing that this morning.

Last night, as it became appar­ent that the protests were inef­fec­tive at con­vinc­ing more than half of the Lib Dems to vote against the pro­posal, some pro­test­ers attacked a car car­ry­ing the Prince of Wales and the Duchess of Corn­wall. Nat­u­rally, this made the front page of every news­pa­per in the coun­try (Guardian, Inde­pen­dent, Tele­graph, Mail, Sun, Mir­ror, nice pay­wall there, Times).

The Twit­ter hash­tag #sol­i­dar­ity has been used by the pro­test­ers and their sup­port­ers for a while now — I do hope some of that sol­i­dar­ity remains. But aside from amongst stu­dents, schoolkids and twenty-somethings who still fondly remem­ber their uni­ver­sity days, I sus­pect that sol­i­dar­ity just took a mas­sive hit.

The tabloid press was never going to be kind to stu­dent protests, but if they were qui­etly depriv­ing them of col­umn space before, by god they are not any more. The attack on Prince Charles’ car last night was one of the most impres­sive acts of shoot­ing one­self in the foot I have ever seen.

My great­est fear over the whole mat­ter, though, is the effect it has had on the young — the peo­ple whose edu­ca­tion was at stake. What have they learned over the last few weeks?

That break­ing into Mill­bank Tower, that light­ing fires and putting bricks through win­dows, that spray­paint­ing walls and break­ing down doors, that being ket­tled by riot police and attack­ing the Royal Fam­ily, isn’t enough. It’s not changed the minds of more than a dozen peo­ple inside the House of Com­mons, maybe none at all.

So what’s left to do? Give up hope and aban­don what mea­gre trust remains in our politi­cians, hop­ing that by the time the pro­test­ers reach mid­dle age they’re elec­table and their opin­ions haven’t changed? Or protest harder, get ket­tled more viciously, dream­ing of glo­ri­ous rev­o­lu­tion while all around the coun­try turns against them?

Dystopia is a great thing to expe­ri­ence for two hours of a film or two hun­dred pages of a book. But when you have to live in it, two weeks is about the point at which it stops being fun.

Alright Government, Hands Off Our Internet

And that is an ‘our’ that does not extend to those inside West­min­ster, because with a few notable excep­tions, MPs have shown an almost com­plete lack of under­stand­ing of the inter­net and how it works.

Guess what’s back from the dead? Our old friend, the Inter­cept Mod­erni­sa­tion Plan.

Between this crazy “log every­thing” scheme (in the name of com­bat­ting ter­ror­ism, nat­u­rally) and the barely-debated Dig­i­tal Econ­omy Act, the pre­vi­ous Labour government’s approach to tech­nol­ogy and the inter­net was at best mis­guided. And though I’m gen­er­ally left-leaning, I found some promise in the Tories’ and the Lib Dems’ pro-freedom, anti-surveillance agenda.

This makes it all the more sad that the new gov­ern­ment has gone against its coali­tion agree­ment and cho­sen to res­ur­rect the Inter­cept Mod­erni­sa­tion Plan as part of the Strate­gic Defence and Secu­rity Review. (Hey, at least I got my submarines.)

Let’s rehash some old arguments:

  1. Überdata­bases are expen­sive. Even if the effort of main­tain­ing them is farmed out to ISPs rather than cen­tral gov­ern­ment (and it will), the cost will be enor­mous. The ISPs will protest, and if they end up hav­ing to pass that cost on to their cus­tomers, we will protest too. It’s your Orwellian plot, if you’re going to intro­duce it, at least have the decency to pay for it.
  2. Who has access? That our ISPs can, to some extent, log our com­mu­ni­ca­tions is some­thing we sign up to in our ser­vice agree­ments. Who could ask for these logs under the Inter­cept Mod­erni­sa­tion Plan? Police with a rea­son­able sus­pi­cion, fair enough — it’s no dif­fer­ent from the cir­cum­stances under which they could get a search war­rant for your house. But when it’s all dig­i­tal, how do we ensure that ‘rea­son­able sus­pi­cion’ is never abused? And who else is allowed access? Gov­ern­ment depart­ments? Civil ser­vants? Schools? Hos­pi­tals? None of this is rigidly defined, and it needs to be.
  3. Data Min­ing is Evil. Can the police, or who­ever, request only spe­cific data from spe­cific times, or can they request all your data? All of sev­eral people’s data? At what point does it stop being a proper inves­ti­ga­tion and start being data min­ing for ‘crime prediction’?
  4. Ph34r t3h haxx0rz! The more data you put in one place, the more inter­est­ing a tar­get it is. And in the real world, enough civil ser­vants leave con­fi­den­tial mate­r­ial on trains already — they’re sure to down­load some of this data to a mem­ory stick and lose it somewhere.
  5. Signal-to-Noise Ratio. This is the inter­net. Accord­ing to one esti­mate, 97% of e-mail traf­fic is spam. And most of the rest must be from Zynga. How much of our Twit­ter bull­shit and Live­Jour­nal angst are you going to read? How much crap are you going to go through to find the super-secret ter­ror­ist plans, and at what point does apply­ing Bayesian analy­sis to our web traf­fic start to fall under the “Data Min­ing is Evil” head­ing (pro­tip: really quickly).
  6. Ter­ror­ists are Smarter than You. And so am I. So are most 14-year-old kids. We know all about SSL, PGP, prox­ies, VPN tun­nelling, TOR, IPREDa­tor, dark­nets and all the rest. And god for­bid the ter­ror­ists do their busi­ness in real life, in a base­ment some­where, rather than on Face­book. Because if they do (spoil­ers: they do), this whole plan is a giant money-pit that robs us of our pri­vacy and achieves nothing.

So Cameron, Clegg et al, please just let this one die. It was a bad plan to begin with, that’s why you promised not to do it. And before you come up with the next plan to foil online ter­ror­ist col­lab­o­ra­tion, please learn what how the inter­net works and what is and isn’t sen­si­ble to do to it.

Learn Internet

For any­one who’d like to sign another peti­tion against the Inter­cept Mod­erni­sa­tion Plan, the Open Rights Group cam­paign is here.

The Curious Case of the Disappearing Child Benefit

This morn­ing, the Prime Min­is­ter used his BBC inter­view to let us know why, exactly, his pro­posed changes to the Child Ben­e­fit sys­tem take into account the income of a sin­gle fam­ily mem­ber rather than the house­hold overall.

As loudly bemoaned in the media over the past few days, the Con­ser­v­a­tives plan to scrap Child Ben­e­fit for higher rate tax pay­ers, those earn­ing over £44,000 a year. Because this is tied in to the tax sit­u­a­tion for a sin­gle indi­vid­ual, it leads to wild incon­sis­ten­cies in the fam­ily incomes that are affected. Under the scheme, a two-parent house­hold where one par­ent earns £44,000 and the other does not work would lose their Child Ben­e­fit. How­ever if both par­ents were to work and earn £43,000 each, for a total of £86,000, they would still receive the payments.

As some­one who earns far less than £44,000 and who could still get by with­out Child Ben­e­fit if nec­es­sary, I have no prob­lems with scrap­ping or reduc­ing Child Ben­e­fit for those sub­stan­tially more wealthy than myself. But couldn’t we at least make it fair?

David Cameron’s excuse for this unfair­ness is that to base it on house­hold income rather than indi­vid­ual income would involve a whole new means-testing process, with all the added bureau­cracy and money-wasting that involves.

Has Mr Cameron for­got­ten about Labour’s Child Tax Credit scheme, a bizarrely par­al­lel yet unre­lated pro­gramme under which work­ing par­ents can claim more money. Child Tax Cred­its are means-tested based on house­hold income in just the same way that the Prime Min­is­ter is claim­ing to be too much work. Would it not in fact reduce bureau­cracy and wasted effort if both were to be com­bined into a sin­gle Child Ben­e­fit sys­tem that was means-tested on house­hold income?

But no, appar­ently the deci­sion is set in stone.

How do the Con­ser­v­a­tives plan on try­ing to fix this unfair­ness? Appar­ently, it emerged this after­noon, with a mar­ried cou­ples’ tax break. How­ever, as the rumour heard by the BBC has it, this would only affect cou­ples earn­ing less than the £44,000 thresh­old — the house­hold with one par­ent earn­ing over £44,000 and one stay-at-home par­ent would not stand to ben­e­fit. It’s also reported as being intro­duced “before the 2015 elec­tion”, poten­tially leav­ing a four-year gap between then and now in which the unfair­ness of the Child Ben­e­fit change is not being adressed.

Fur­ther­more, while the pro­posed mar­ried cou­ples’ tax break thank­fully includes civil part­ner­ships, it pre­sum­ably does not include long-term part­ners who choose not to marry. I imag­ine that encour­ag­ing tra­di­tional val­ues such as mar­riage is a vote-winner amongst cer­tain groups of Tory vot­ers, but should the gov­ern­ment not stay well clear of these very pri­vate deci­sions? Should a poor cou­ple who do not want to marry be pres­sured into it, how­ever gen­tly, by their finan­cial situation?

New Labour: Gone, but not Forgotten

“The era of New Labour has passed,” said Ed Miliband on Sun­day, and boy was I happy to hear that.

I am, I sup­pose, of the New Labour gen­er­a­tion — Tony Blair swept to power in 1997, just as I was turn­ing 12 years old. I stayed up late to watch the votes roll in, more excited by the fact that I was simul­ta­ne­ously maths-geeking with half the pop­u­la­tion than I was knowl­edge­able about how a Labour or Tory win would affect me.

But from about that time, the dawn of my polit­i­cal aware­ness, Labour has been New Labour. Min­ers’ strikes and Poll Tax riots are crea­tures of the his­tory books to me, and trade unions just aren’t things a 12-year-old cares about. Labour, to me, was about the cult of per­son­al­ity and of spin, Mandelson’s scan­dals and Blair’s toothy grin. They were about Mid­dle Eng­land and unpop­u­lar wars and sac­ri­fic­ing our lib­er­ties at every turn for our pro­tec­tion from today’s ter­ror­ist organ­i­sa­tion of choice.

After a while I turned 18, and like the good proto-Socialist that I was, I voted for what I per­ceived as the most Left-leaning party on the bal­lot sheet.

The Lib­eral Democrats.

Five years later, well, that alleigance didn’t work out so well.

But while I’m glad that Labour’s new leader has called the end of the Blairite regime, I’m a lit­tle sad­dened by how quickly the pos­si­bil­ity of a “lurch to the Left” has been dis­missed. Ed Miliband has said that he wants to “rede­fine” the polit­i­cal cen­tre ground, but where does that leave our polit­i­cal landscape?

We have the Con­ser­v­a­tive party, on the centre-right. The Lib Dems, approx­i­mately at the cen­tre. And now Ed Miliband’s Labour, redefin­ing… the centre.

Cen­tre, cen­tre, cen­tre. Should we be brac­ing our­selves for a con­tin­u­ing era of utter dull­ness in pol­i­tics? If we dis­count the tiny Greens, the loony-fringe UKIP and the despi­ca­ble BNP, and if post-New Labour con­tin­ues Blair’s obses­sion with win­ning Mid­dle England’s votes, everyone’s man­i­festos start look­ing sus­pi­ciously similar.

Time to just say “sod it” and run as a can­di­date for the Pirate Party or something?

(Sources for the Mil­liband quotes are the Finan­cial Times’ web­site, which I’m not link­ing to because it’s got Mur­doch cooties.)

Politics, meet Videogames. Everybody Loses.

On Sun­day, Britain’s Defence Sec­re­tary Liam Fox called for the upcom­ing Medal of Honor game to be banned by retail­ers (BBC). Appar­ently he finds it “hard to believe any cit­i­zen of our coun­try would wish to buy such a thor­oughly un-British game”, which shows quite a remark­able lack of under­stand­ing of the peo­ple he is sup­posed to rep­re­sent. And since when has there been an expec­ta­tion that Amer­i­can games should be “British” anyway?

Appar­ently it is “shock­ing that some­one would think it accept­able to recre­ate the acts of the Tal­iban against British sol­diers”. Well, in real life, maybe. But this is a game, and an 18-rated one at that, so it is played by adults that are fully capa­ble of dis­tin­guish­ing between fic­tion and reality.

And yes, you can play as the Tal­iban. It’s called mul­ti­player. Would Mr Fox pre­fer that the mul­ti­player was Amer­i­cans shoot­ing Amer­i­cans? Because that’s just as morally dubi­ous, and also kind of dumb. No, one team plays the good guys, one team plays the bad guys. That’s the way these things work. I don’t recall politi­cians los­ing their shit about Coun­ter­strike because zomg half the play­ers are being ter­ror­ists! How many games have there been where you can play as a Nazi sol­dier in multiplayer?

I won­der if the Defence Sec­re­tary ever got the chance to play Cops and Rob­bers as a kid, because, you know it’s no dif­fer­ent. One team plays the good guys, one team plays the bad guys, that’s how it works. Cops and Rob­bers doesn’t glo­rify vio­lent crime, just as Medal of Honor doesn’t glo­rify the Afghan insurgency.

So Mr Fox, it would be appre­ci­ated if you could please go back to get­ting our real sol­diers some MRAPs and some more heli­copters and guns that work, and leave the rest of us to enjoy our videogames. Thank you!

My Contribution to Big Society

Today, Prime Min­is­ter David Cameron launched his ‘Big Soci­ety’ ini­tia­tive, aimed at empow­er­ing local com­mu­ni­ties to fix their own prob­lems. On the sur­face it sounds to me like a nice idea, get­ting neigh­bours to work together to save their post office or whatever.

But of course, no-one really knows how it’s going to hap­pen yet, or if there’s any money. And money will be needed. No inde­pen­dent community-built schools are going to spring up if the only peo­ple who can vol­un­teer their time are house­wives and a bunch of unem­ployed sales exec­u­tives. Peo­ple need train­ing, and even after a bit of train­ing, they’ll still not do the job as well as pro­fes­sion­als. Appar­ently the gov­ern­ment can’t afford to pay actual builders to build schools, so is this part of the ‘Big Soci­ety’ plan doing any more than invest­ing in cheap, shoddy infra­struc­ture that will fall to the com­mu­nity to main­tain when it starts falling down?

It all seems based on the idea that no-one’s got much money but we’ve all some­how got a lot of spare time. Which, with unem­ploy­ment threat­en­ing to rise even higher, is pretty much true. Unfor­tu­nately, all the peo­ple in this sit­u­a­tion are spend­ing all their spare time try­ing to get money again, by means of find­ing a job that actu­ally pays them. ‘Big Soci­ety’ doesn’t dish out feel-good points that can be traded in at the food bank.

In an attempt to find some money for train­ing and so that there is some finan­cial incen­tive for these vol­un­teers, Cameron also sug­gests “…announc­ing plans to use dor­mant bank accounts to fund projects.” Wait. Are you nation­al­is­ing our bank accounts? How exactly does he pro­pose to do that, and has any­one else done that in recent his­tory besides Com­mu­nist dic­ta­tors? (Or, more likely, am I com­pletely fail­ing to grasp the actual plan here?)

Any­way, I’m feel­ing pretty good about my con­tri­bu­tion to the Big Soci­ety. With all the web­sites ask­ing what we should cut the hard­est, with Con­ser­v­a­tive and Lib Dem man­i­festos falling by the way­side, and with the gov­ern­ment wash­ing their hands of com­mu­nity projects, I think I’ve found myself some­where to volunteer.

In the deprived cen­tral Lon­don bor­ough of West­min­ster, there are plenty of vol­un­teers work­ing in char­ity shops and soup kitchens — but where we’re really lack­ing, where we really need to come together and save our com­mu­nity, is in the area of policy-making. Since the gov­ern­ment clearly isn’t keen on doing it them­selves, I humbly pro­pose myself as a vol­un­teer here. I could spare a few hours after work each night to down a few pints in the Com­mons bar before head­ing to the Cham­ber and being an angry leftie at peo­ple until the gov­ern­ment realises that we pay tax so that they fund these projects, not us.

Announcing: Westminster Hubble!

Ladies and gen­tle­men of the blo­gos­phere, I am proud to announce the release of a new web­site. This is what I have been wind­ing up most of my Twit­ter fol­low­ers for the last two months by refer­ring to it only as “Super Secret Project #1″. Its name is West­min­ster Hub­ble.

Westminster Hubble Logo

A joint ven­ture between myself and Chris Cox, West­min­ster Hub­ble helps you stay in touch with your rep­re­sen­ta­tives in Parliament.

Each MP has their own page, which you can nav­i­gate to by search­ing by name, con­stituency or post­code, or by select­ing from a map of the UK or a list of every­body in the data­base. Here’s an exam­ple for one of Westminster’s most tech-savvy, Tom Wat­son.

On each MP’s page, each item of their online pres­ence is listed: their web­site, blog, Twit­ter account, Face­book page, and so on. These are all editable, so that MPs or benev­o­lent users can help keep their page up to date. MP’s pro­files on They­Work­ForYou, the UK Par­lia­ment web­site and the Tele­graph news­pa­per are all auto­mat­i­cally linked to as well, and if they’re on record, the pages also list MPs’ con­stituency addresses and phone numbers.

Each of the online items is rou­tinely checked for updates by West­min­ster Hub­ble, and from them a feed is cre­ated. This feed forms the body of each MP’s page, and is a fil­ter­able list of all that MP’s activ­ity on all the web­sites we know about.

Of course, you can sub­scribe to an RSS feed for an MP too (or even a sin­gle feed for all 650 of them, if you’re that way inclined). Just click the “Sub­scribe” but­ton at the top of any feed.

So if you want a sin­gle feed of your MP’s speeches in Par­lia­ment, blog posts, tweets and YouTube videos, West­min­ster Hub­ble is a new site that will give you just that. If you want a sin­gle page that’ll give you quick access to all their pro­files across the inter­net, we do that too.

Please, spread the word!