Karaoke democracy (From Bradford Telegraph and Argus)

Karaoke democracy

10:51am Monday 19th February 2007

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Cigarette-box democracy refers to the post-war era when people worked in a place for 30 or 40 years and signed off aged 60 or 65 with an inappropriate corporate gift.

Ordinary wage-slaves might get a small carriage-clock, to remind them of the time they had spent working and how little they had left for living. Office workers could look forward to a cigarette box of silver or of gold.

These days, of course, presenting someone with a cigarette box as a leaving gift is tantamount to presenting them with a coffin; they are more likely to get a year's free membership for keep fit centre.

The above scenario, of course, hasn't applied for more than a decade. In that time various government ministers have preached the gospel of what might be called ergonomic diversity - working in a load of different jobs.

This has been such a complete reversal of the working ethic drilled into generations of hapless school-leavers, is it any wonder that society at large embodies Oscar Wilde's definition of cynicism - knowing the price of everything and the value of nothing.

Individuals, however, are more resilient, which is why big fat controllers must be forever vigilant: the regenerative power of individuals is beyond the ken of local authorities and government departments, no matter how much they delude themselves by talking earnestly about 'vision.' The late Jonathan Silver, who regenerated the redundant Salts Mill in Saltaire, near Bradford, from a former textile factory to a flourishing arts-business enterprise, remains the classic provincial example of what can be achieved by someone with undiluted moxie. Salts Mill, which the local authority wanted to demolish in the mid-1980s, is now a World Heritage site.

Contrary to the old Marxist belief, people are easier to control in the mass. Civilisation accustoms us to behave with consideration; but extraordinary individuals tend to ignore protocol and etiquette; what makes them dangerous is their disinclination to take no for an answer.

In the course of imposing their will Stalin, Hitler, the Imperial Japanese Army, Mao Tse-tung and Pol Pot wiped out millions, but they also murdered troublesome individuals - writers, thinkers, activists, critics. British governments haven't emulated these tyrants, the individual still counts for something even if that something has been diminished by circumstances such as security-consciousness.

Social policy, however, dictates that the collective must take priority over the individual. Sceptics might respond by saying that where criminals are concerned the emphasis is on individual human rights rather than the greatest happiness of the greatest number. But in the arts and in education the focus group, the marketing module, the crowd, the mass, is the new arbiter of taste and fashion.

Universities which once offered a well-rounded education now have to justify their existence by making courses pay. Welcome to the real world, some might reply. But is this reality, dictated by the bottom line mentality of accountancy, the one we want to cultivate at university level?

As one Oxbridge insider told me: "Students are choosing courses where there is a pay-off. Management studies are booming, so is law. Pure studies are going down. This is partly the result of student loans; but universities themselves have become more like service institutions: they are market-led like every other institution now.
"The money they get from central government depends on the number of students universities can attract. Foreign student fees are uncapped, so there is a great deal of competition for foreign students and they want to study sciences and management.

"Universities have to balance two conflicting demands: education for the individual and vocational education. It's a pity if in the pursuit of the almighty dollar we lose sight of the necessity of this balance. Ironically, some of the best breakthroughs in science have come from research that doesn't have a direct application to anything!"

In the arts, funding channelled from the various regional offices of the Arts Council invariably favours applications that have social, educational or welfare outcomes. Excellence is not a priority; talent is regarded as recondite: what counts is demonstrable utilitarian usefulness - a community level.

Thirty years ago regional arts associations nurtured individual talent by sponsoring work: buying copies of a book and putting them on sale at arts outlets. In this way the work of practitioners was directly supported: encouragement was practicable.

That has changed. For some time we have been living in a karaoke democracy in which the likes of Jade Goody can rise, flourish and benefit due to the modern phenomenon of telebrity (television celebrity).

Labour ministers should congratulate themselves; the policy of inclusion they have been engineering in education, the civil service, the police service and the arts is proving irresistible on all fronts. We now have police officers who can pick and choose their duties and with whom they shake hands. What a triumph for social progress.

Karaoke democracy allows everyone to sing their own song, no matter how poor the song, no matter how little talent for singing they have. The only qualification is a willingness to join in, to submit to the crowd.
On every front culture and the cultivated are in retreat. Bradford Council's idea of a top of the bill act to round off its literature festival in 2006 was John Hegley in concert at the Alhambra Studio. The largely middle-aged female audience loved it, especially the anti-Christian jokes. While there is a place for literature as light entertainment, was this the best that the city that gave the world the Brontes, J B Priestley and John Braine could do?

It can only be a little time before elitism in all its forms is dead; in its place, slurring and triumphant, the Big Brother karaoke democrat - as envisaged by George Orwell in 1948, taking the piss out of everything and valuing nothing.