So we were beaten this time. We’re tired. Some of us are in physical pain. We feel let down, yet again, by lying, cheating politicians. We feel abused by people who purely want to protect their own interests rather than the people they serve. But this was a battle, not the war.

At the end of the last century something very interesting happened. The Labour government made constitutional changes and devolved regional government became a reality. Scotland did particularly well, regaining a full parliament as well as proportional representation. Nobody is going to take that power away again. Consequently, Scotland now has more autonomy than any other part of the United Kingdom.

And guess what? The SNP have just done very well in the Scottish elections. Suddenly, Scottish independence looks more like it could become a reality. From devolution to dissolution of the union in just over a decade. Now of course, nobody really expects that to happen quickly. But arguably the mandate is there, at least to hold a referendum. Change can happen quickly when the climate is right.

And the current climate is hostile. Maybe the average person doesn’t yet realise just how hostile. Maybe the cuts, sorry, savings haven’t bitten hard enough yet. Perhaps for too many people it isn’t yet personal. Holding the referendum only a year in was a savvy move by the Tories. Closer to the general election, deeper into austerity, the thought of unseating the government would be a stronger driving force. To people busy with their daily lives, 2015 must seem a long way away. It isn’t really, but it is long enough to mobilise if we want to fight back.

Yesterday was the only referendum we have had in my lifetime. But it wasn’t the only election. The next general election will, just like the last one, be run under First Past the Post. If we are serious about reform, we can use that to our advantage. Let’s make the next election about our agenda. To become an MP you don’t even need a majority! All you have to do is convince enough people to actually turn up and vote for you. On a typical low turnout that needn’t be a large number. Imagine if even a dozen of us managed to win seats. We would generate enough attention to put reform back on the cards.

I’m up for it, but I can’t do this on my own. Who’s in?

Earlier today I suffered a mild anxiety attack. When I say mild, I mean it was enough to trigger defensive behaviours (locking doors etc.) but didn’t reduce me to a quivering wreck. I largely have my medication to thank for that. Although my pain relief is woefully inadequate, the beta blocker my doctor prescribed me had an almost instant effect. It has reduced the severity of most incidents, and made a full blown panic attack a relatively rare occurrence.

The trigger for this morning’s mild panic was the presence of police gathering outside of my house. On balance, my experience of police is negative. One incident in particular, involved two disablist police officers (one of them even said, “I think he’s autistic or something”) and was so traumatic that it means I can no longer see police without fear.

Fellow activist types have occasionally asked if I would be willing to write about my experiences. The truth is, I cannot. If the mere sight of a police officer is enough to trigger anxiety, I do not dare to explore that part of my memory. My mind has chosen to lock away the details, and I’d be very happy to throw away the key.

The simple point I’m making is that disablism has consequences. There is no such thing as an isolated incident. When you treat a disabled person or their carer with contempt, you’re not just affecting them in the moment. We are real people, with memories and emotions. When you hurt us, we remember. It affects our self-esteem. It affects our mental health. It may well affect our physical health. If somebody treated you like that, you’d call it bullying. Which is exactly what it is. If you can’t see that, you have some thinking to do.

Please, anybody who intends to vote #no2av, do it because you understand both systems and believe FPTP is better. No other reason. #yes2av—
Julian Yon (@julianyon) April 19, 2011

Not caring is NOT a reason to vote #no2av. It would be better for you to spoil your paper, and allow those who do care to decide. #yes2av—
Julian Yon (@julianyon) April 19, 2011

Not understanding the question is not a reason to vote #no2av. If you cannot make an informed decision, then spoil your paper. #yes2av—
Julian Yon (@julianyon) April 19, 2011

Preferring STV is not a reason to vote #no2av, as STV is not an option. Choose between the two boxes on the paper, or spoil it. #yes2av—
Julian Yon (@julianyon) April 19, 2011

I understand that the wording of the question is misleading. To make this clear: neither a #yes2av nor a #no2av result means further reform.—
Julian Yon (@julianyon) April 19, 2011

Being misled by either side is not a reason to vote #no2av. If you don't want to find out the facts, spoil your paper. #yes2av—
Julian Yon (@julianyon) April 19, 2011

I am not being facetious. A large number of spoilt papers will send a message to those who are paying attention. #yes2av #no2av—
Julian Yon (@julianyon) April 19, 2011

I believe that #yes2av is the right choice. But I am trying to make it clear that there is a third option when you cast your vote. #no2av—
Julian Yon (@julianyon) April 19, 2011

Your voting options are: #yes2av, #no2av, or draw a big cock on the paper. Please do the third if you're unsure.—
Julian Yon (@julianyon) April 19, 2011

If you are unsure what AV is, I would encourage you to read my previous article on the subject. A number of people say that they found it helpful.

I am again writing in response to a specific concern raised on Twitter. The context is the forthcoming referendum to decide whether the UK should adopt AV (the Alternative Vote system, also known as Instant Runoff Voting) for its general elections.

It is worth dispensing with a red herring before continuing. AV is not a way of achieving Proportional Representation, and it does not try to be. Therefore all arguments relating to PR are moot. There are no PR options in this referendum, and therefore a vote for or against AV is not a vote for or against PR. The only other option being offered is FPTP (First Past The Post), the non-proportional status quo.

I’d also like to dispense with the “AV is complicated” myth. Offer a typical 5 year old strawberry, chocolate and vanilla ice cream. Ask her which one she likes most. Then which she likes next best. And then which she likes least. Chances are she can answer you without much difficulty. My daughter (who is far from typical and has significant learning difficulties) can manage it. This is how you vote in an AV poll. You don’t need to know exactly how the votes are counted (not that it’s hard) in order to cast your vote.

AV is a system for minimising “wasted votes” while, in the context of a general election, maintaining the strong constituency link which has often been used as an argument for FPTP. It is used for electing an individual person to a single seat, and therefore has no bias against independents. The intention is to eliminate tactical voting and “safe seats”, by ensuring that every vote is counted and that a majority is required to win.

AV is not flawless. It is probably the smallest and simplest improvement that could be made to our existing system. Taken alone, it falls short of what many campaigners for electoral reform would have liked to have seen. However, it is an improvement. It is somewhat harsh to have to vote for a “lesser of two evils”, but this is what is on offer. Neither outcome guarantees further reform, and this may be the only chance we get for a generation. Because of this, I will try to keep my examples simple. It’s easy to get hung up on small details when the way we elect our MPs is only one of things wrong with our constitution.

So, what is a “wasted vote”? Put simply, it is a vote that is correctly cast but cannot make a difference to the outcome of the election. They happen under FPTP because it is designed for two party elections. In that simplest case the two systems are equivalent. Either A or B will get >50% of the vote[1], and win with an outright majority. Every person’s vote has an equal weight and a direct effect on the outcome. One man, one vote.

It starts to go wrong when we allow a third candidate to stand. As long as that candidate has some support, there is the possibility of a democratically incorrect outcome due to wasted votes. The probability of such an outcome depends on the circumstances of the election, but it can happen in both marginal and “safe” seats.

Let’s pretend there are three candidates, imaginatively named A, B and C. People go to the polls. The results come in. A has 41%, B has 31%, C has 28%. Under FPTP this is a win for A, but no candidate actually has a majority. There are many different political situations which can lead to this outcome, and not all of them give A a democratic mandate. AV provides a way to differentiate between these situations.

In order to highlight just how badly wrong FPTP can theoretically be, let’s say that B and C are two candidates with very similar manifestos. This is the notorious “split vote”. If B was not in the running, every one of B’s supporters would vote for C, giving a win with 59%, a clear majority. And vice versa. By the accident of two people standing on the same platform, the minority candidate wins the seat.

The important way that AV differs from FPTP is that it insists on a majority to declare a win. This is achieved by taking second (etc.) choice votes into account. But, crucially, each vote only counts once. Nobody gets multiple votes. Here’s how it works (but you don’t need to know this to vote):

It’s Friday afternoon, and the teacher has promised the class something special. But they must choose collectively which activity they want to do. The teacher puts signs up in each of the corners with a letter that represents each activity, and the children have to gather under the signs. For argument’s sake, these made-up children are not influenced by their peers’ choices.

They gather as follows: 11 under A, 10 under B, 6 under C and 4 under D. There is no majority, but there is a loser. The teacher removes the sign for D and tells those 4 children they’ll have to choose again. One heads to B, and the others to C.

We now have 11 for A, 11 for B and 9 for C; still no majority. The teacher removes the sign for C, which is the new loser. Five children move to B, and the rest to A. Now there are 16 votes for B, which is a majority, and the decision has been made.

Now of course, only in fairy tales would children not be influenced by their peers. But this is where AV is actually simpler than the above example. You’re not asked to choose again, you get to vote in private, and you cast your vote once. All you have to do is write your order of preference, and let the ballot counters do the rest. They will play out this algorithm, taking your choice into account. One person still has one vote, just like in the two party FPTP, but as minority options are eliminated that vote is transferred to your less preferred candidates, in the order you specify. The winner will have a majority, and therefore a mandate.

If you have any trouble understanding the mechanism, remember that you’re only casting the vote, not counting it. It’s just like choosing your favourite ice-creams. A five year old can do it.

[1] As a tie in a large-scale election is statistically extremely unlikely, I will assume it cannot happen.

When you are poor, your life revolves around money. Even if you’re a hardened leftist it is impossible to escape the reality of having to eat and keep a roof over your head. You can’t escape that, if you need or want something even slightly expensive, you will have to endure hardship to make it happen. It’s a fact of life that you will always, at some level, be scared of that day when an expected payment doesn’t come in, or an expense is bigger than predicted. Inevitably, things which more affluent people think of as insignificant become a major emergency, as you spend money to deal with an immediate problem at the cost of tightening your belt another notch. And if you have kids, you don’t want them to share the pain, so you end up thinking about money even more.

It’s inevitable. But is it right?

I’m a Christian. Not a particularly “normal” one, but I try to live according to the basic principles that Jesus demonstrated during his brief ministry. A recurring theme among his teaching is that of faith. Faith isn’t belief. I believe that it would take me a bit over 4 years to reach Proxima Centuri at warp 1. This belief doesn’t require faith. It is never going to be tested.

Faith is being prepared to act on what you believe, as though it’s undeniably true. I believe that my house is structurally sound. I put my children to sleep under its roof. I expect the floor to hold my weight without collapsing. I expect to remain safe and dry during a thunderstorm. If my faith is misplaced, it will have consequences. I acknowledge the possibility that I may be wrong but I believe it so strongly that I don’t give the alternatives a second thought. We even have labels for people who doubt excessively: hysterical, neurotic, paranoid, obsessive-compulsive and so on. Lack of faith in some areas is seen as evidence of mental illness.

Why then, when it comes to money, does faith go out of the window? We look for reasons not to do things that we know need to be done. I can’t afford this. I can’t take that risk. What if I lose my job? What if my partner dies? What if I can’t pay the rent? The car will have an MOT in 6 months. They might stop my benefits.

These are all real concerns, of course. It would be irresponsible not to consider them. But so often we give much more weight to financial considerations than to anything else. It’s as though we have put our faith in capitalism, even though we might publicly profess to be an anarchist, socialist, left-leaning liberal or whatever. We’ve all been brainwashed with the dogma that money equals security,  security is good, and insecurity is bad. But I think we should be willing to challenge that.

So many times, I’ve listened to people say things like, “I know you’re right, but…” or “I know it would be good for me, but…”  and then continue with something about money. What I say to that is, if you KNOW that it’s the right thing to do, then logically there is no “but”. You have made a statement of belief. The word “know” implies a belief strong enough to support an act of faith. If you know it’s right, then act on that belief. If you can’t do that, then you don’t really know. This isn’t an epistemological argument. It’s not about how you know. It’s about what you do about it.

If, as Jesus said, “it’s easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to get into God’s kingdom,” then Christians, at least, should be willing to forego the security of knowing where their next meal is coming from, in order to do what they know is right. And I’d encourage anyone who claims to believe that there is more to life than money to do the same. Have faith.

It all comes down to the understanding of “can”. As an unqualified statement, the word implies infinite possibility. “I can walk” gets mentally translated as “If you ask me to walk, I will be able to, and it will cause me no suffering”. I didn’t learn this lesson myself until I had been through the humiliating and debilitating process of claiming ESA, and a tribunal which awarded me the bare minimum 15 points, none of which were for physical incapacity. This definition of “can” is enshrined in law, in procedure, in tribunal judgements. Through ignorance of this fact, I inadvertently managed to paint a picture of myself as healthy, active and capable. Two years later I am still suffering as a consequence of that error.

A “can do” way of thinking is so often presented as being a good thing. Optimism. Positive Mental Attitude. Whatever you want to call it. The idea that if you believe you can, then you can. Well I call bullshit on that one. Every day I wake up believing I can walk, and most days at some point I end up landing on the floor. Or so utterly exhausted that I can’t get back up once I sit down. If, in a capability assessment, you demanded I walk half a mile, I might manage it. In both physical and mental pain. Doesn’t mean I could do a second time. Or tomorrow. Or that I could have done it yesterday.

I do it all the time. Positive thinking is what causes me to decide to take the little one for a walk, only to find half way round that both of us are worn out. Positive thinking is how I find the strength to get back home, carrying her for much of the way while my muscles burn, my joints subluxate, and a pain and fatigue induced dark cloud descends which makes death seem like the best way out. Despite what some will tell you, and what my former CBT-ist presumably believes, thinking your way out of depression only gets you so far, too.

When I am trying to enjoy time with the children, it seems that my needs have to come first all the time. Can’t stay out too long because of daddy. Can’t walk too far because of daddy. Need to find a seat NOW because of daddy. Got to give up and go home because of daddy. It feels like bad parenting. And I’m tired of it. The kids are supposed to come first.

It’s not as if my own needs are even being met in all this. I have NO social life. I never see friends outside of church. I only see family when they come to me; fortunately this is frequent in the case of my parents, but I’m missing everyone else. I don’t even get to go out with my wife; on those rare occasions we get someone to look after the kids I don’t have the energy to do anything. And this is all because “can” isn’t a word that applies to me.

I’m not naïve. I can’t afford a power chair, and with EDS a manual wheelchair will still be extremely limiting. I’ll be moving the strain from my legs to my arms, and no doubt that will mean that my shoulders will dislocate more frequently and I’ll still have to be careful not to go beyond a safe return distance. And of course I’ll need to be even more aware of accessibility issues, but that’s already an issue.

But having a chair will increase my options. If I’m out with company and I’m too tired to self-propel, I can ask for a push. I can go places without worrying if there’s a seat for me. I can enjoy a day out with the kids without it being all about me. I can spend more quality time with my partner, and we can be a proper couple. I can decide each day whether today is a walkie day or a wheelie day, according to my need. I can say “I can”, and mean it.

If I want my life back, if I want a “can do” attitude to correlate to a “can do” reality, then I need to take this step. I need a wheelchair, because I need to live.

Dear Maria Miller,

Everybody these days knows I’m in pain – but I rarely talk about the cognitive dysfunction which is just as much of a problem. There are loads of people you can argue with to your heart’s content who won’t mind. I’m no longer one of them, because I just can’t do it. So please don’t expect me to.

It’s not a very good article, but nevertheless:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cognitive_dysfunction

I AM NOT CAPABLE of having the sort of conversation you are expecting to have. DON’T assume I’m saying something unless I’ve explicitly written it, and furthermore DON’T assume that I think I’m immune to being wrong. DON’T assume that because I’ve not responded to a point that I didn’t read it. DON’T assume I’ll remember what you said in another conversation. And DON’T take offence at any of the above, because it’s nothing to do with you, my brain just doesn’t work right any more.

I don’t care whether you agree with me or not, on any subject. I don’t care which of us is “right”. I do care how you go about disagreeing with me. It’s entirely unfair to expect somebody who frequently struggles to remember what day of the week it is to wade through massive blocks of text and answer your points when he’s intentionally moved to a medium that’s more suitable for his needs.

Maybe I should talk about it more, I don’t know. I feel like I already focus too much attention on myself, but somehow I need to get the message through that I’m not being rude, and it’s not about you.