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?

Like I said, I have no objection to the Church of England existing (and likewise its Scots equivalent).  I know many members, and I know it does good work.  What I can’t see the sense of, however, is declaring it our country’s religion.  It is the most popular religion amongst the people of this country, and the religion of our head of state, but nothing more.

We do not just live in a “Church of England” country, or a Protestant one, or even a Christian one.  We live in a Christian country, and a Muslim country and a Jewish country, a Sikh and Hindu country, a Buddhist and Pagan country, an Atheist and an Agnostic country, a Pastafarian and Scientologist country (for better or worse).

There is an English language, which there are some reasonable arguments in favour of requiring those who live here to speak.  Of course no-one in their right mind would suggest that people who live here adopt the “English religion”, so why have such a concept in the first place?  It can only serve as a small but niggling reminder to the nation’s Muslims and Sikhs that they aren’t quite as “English” as others.

I find the number of state-funded church schools quite odd too — in my town, there are only two non–faith schools, neither of which we are in the catchment area of.  So I am paying money in the form of taxes for my son to be taught as fact something that is only an opinion, and one that I disagree with at that.

I understand the historical reasons behind the system, why the Church of England exists and why the concept of a state religion exists.  But is it not a little out-dated now?

I admit that this post comes across as flame-bait, but I genuinely cannot think of an advantage to having a state religion, and I honestly welcome any comments that offer a reason as to why the state religion is useful to our society.

Over and above this, the biggest advantage of AV in my opinion is that it removes the desire to vote tactically.  Thus far in my adult life I have resolutely voted Lib Dem in my constituency, where they trail the Conservatives with about 30% of the vote compared to 40% — not exactly close, but not far off.  As I find my inclinations swinging toward Labour (15%), the existing First Past the Post system means I now have a choice: support Labour by voting for them, or oppose the Tories by voting Lib Dem.  (Not that that’s working too well at the moment.)  The AV system gives me the ability to properly express my opinions: I’d like Labour first, the Lib Dems second, and the others not at all.

But in case none of that was convincing, I suggest you attempt the following procedure, which has thus far done me no harm in life:

1. Figure out what a bunch of stuffy old-Etonian toffs and/or bigoted racist dicks want you to do
2. Figure out what the opposite is
3. Do that.

Whether it’s for fairer representation, for better allowing you to express your opinion, to Stick it to the Forehead Man, or just for the lulz — please join me in voting “Yes” to the Alternative Vote system on May 5th.

Communities have been affected by incomers who are unable to speak English and unwilling to integrate, [Cameron] will argue.

“That has created a kind of discomfort and disjointedness in some neighbourhoods. This has been the experience for many people in our country — and I believe it is untruthful and unfair not to speak about it and address it.”

Granted, I’m probably far from the average member of the public in my opinions, and certainly I’m far from core Tory material. But I see that disjointedness as more of a good thing than a bad one.

Many years ago, I lived for a while in the village of Easton, on Portland. It was blessed with both a Chinese restaurant and a Chinese take-away, as far as I am aware the only two on the island. When I was there, the restaurant was staffed with Chinese people (or at least those of Chinese descent) — whether they lived on the island or not, I have no idea. But the take-away? Well, I guess they ran out of Chinese people. It was staffed entirely by Brits. 96.8% of the population are of white ethnicity.

I come from, and have since returned to, Bournemouth. Just 30 miles away, it has a population more than 10 times that of the whole of Portland. During most of the year it is home to thousands of university students; in the summer it opens its doors to thousands more foreign language students and a never-ending influx of tourists. I live in an area with a high Brazilian population. Oriental and Middle-Eastern shops are everywhere.

It’s part of the world in a way that Easton is not.

By and large, immigrants naturally pick up enough English to get by — instead of imposing requirements on their proficiency with the language, how about we try to learn each others’ languages?

Instead of imposing some requirement to “integrate” with society (presumably that means reading the Daily Mail, drinking tea and moaning about the weather), why not celebrate each others’ cultures?

More to the point, why not stop pretending that there’s a single homogenous British society for people to integrate with in the first place? My comment about the Daily Mail was only partly in humour. How do you define such a nebulous concept?

I don’t read the Daily Mail, and I rarely drink tea. My instinctive reaction to the phrase “Oh dear, it’s come over all cloudy again, hasn’t it? Typical.” is an impotent rage as I realise that no matter how much of a travesty of conversation it is, in the eyes of the law, it’s still not cause enough to legitimately punch someone in the face.

Like most Brits though, I do love French food, German beer, Italian coffee, chow mein, pizza and chicken tikka masala.

If I’m trying to make a point here, it’s this:

• Everyone else’s culture is just as good as ours
• Everyone else’s language is just as good as ours
• And by the way, everyone else’s food is better than ours.

Let’s stop clinging to an idea of British culture that we can’t even define, and pretending our way of life is under attack from Poles or Pakistanis.  Let’s not be Easton.

There’s a whole world out there.  Let’s live in it.

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.

That was December. Now it is February. What became known as the Jasmine Revolution swept through Tunisia, exiling its President of 23 years and ushering hope for freedom and democracy. Egypt followed, ousting President Mubarak from his 30-year rule after a protest in Tahrir Square that saw more protesters’ children in impromptu day-care groups than molotov cocktails.

Unrest has swept the states of the Arab League. Protests have rocked Morocco, Algeria, Jordan, Syria and Yemen. Tensions are flaring once again in Iran. Bahrain ordered its soldiers to open fire on their people. And tonight Libya lies on the brink of revolution or civil war, the east of the country reportedly under civilian rule as army units defect, police stations burn and hundreds lie dead.

I wonder if Mohamed Bouazizi had any idea, back in December, that his death would be the catalyst for the greatest unrest the region has seen in decades?

And I wonder how many other situations, political or otherwise, are susceptible to the same butterfly effect. How many other butterflies are there out there whose simple, local actions will end up tearing countries apart?

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.

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.

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.

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

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?