The New Statesman

The New Statesman

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In 1912 Arthur Balfour suggested to the Fabian Society that it should have its own weekly journal. George Bernard Shaw agreed with the idea and promised to provide regular articles. Shaw also wrote to his various contacts in the theatrical world in an effort to gain subscribers for the proposed magazine. Beatrice Webb sent out letters to Fabian Society members and to those involved in her Poor Law campaign. These letters recruited over 2,000 people willing to become postal subscribers.

Sidney Webb agreed to take overall charge of the venture and in December 1912 Clifford Sharp was appointed as editor. The first edition was called The Statesman but was changed to the New Statesman on its second issue to avoid confusion with the Indian newspaper of the same name.

The journal received a hostile reception from the former Fabian, H. W. Massingham, the editor of the political weekly, The Nation. Massingham claimed that the New Statesman was "the Webbs flavoured with a little Shaw and padded with the contributions of a few cleverish but ignorant young men".

David Alfred Thomas, a Liberal Party MP, was concerned about this new socialist magazine. However, his daughter, Margaret Haig Thomas, welcomed this new venture: "When in 1913 the New Statesman was born, I was enormously interested. My father too was interested. The New Statesman, he reported - not too pleased - was being taken in by an enormous number of Civil Servants; it was penetrating right through Whitehall. It was insensibly, subtly, gradually heading opinion towards Socialism, towards State Control - and, said he, what the Civil Service thought on a matter of that kind mattered more in the long run than what anyone else in the country thought. I listened open-eared. To mould the opinion, not of the large crowd, but of the keystone people, the people who in their turn would guide the crowd - what a fascinating thing to be able to do! Perhaps the most fascinating of all. I envied the New Statesman."

In 1930 Kingsley Martin, a journalist on the Manchester Guardian, replaced Clifford Sharp as editor. John Maynard Keynes, who held a controlling interest in The Nation, shared Martin's political views and suggested an amalgamation of the two journals.

Kingsley Martin was editor of the New Statesman & Nation for over thirty years and during this time he established it as Britain's leading intellectual weekly. Contributors to the journal after the arrival of Martin included J. A. Hobson, John Maynard Keynes, G. D. H. Cole, Ernst Toller, Leonard Woof, Virginia Woolf, and J. B. Priestley.

Other editors have included: John Freeman (1961-1965), Paul Johnson (1965–70), Richard Crossman (1970–72), Anthony Howard (1972–78), John Lloyd (1986–87), Stuart Weir (1987–91), Ian Hargreaves (1996–98), Peter Wilby (1998–2005) and John Kampfner (2005–2008).

When in 1913 the New Statesman was born, I was enormously interested. I envied the New Statesman.

The Webbs, with their usual preference for ability rather than agreement of opinion, had appointed Clifford Sharp editor when they founded the New Statesman in 1913. He was an exceptionally able, but not an agreeable man. He had worked with them in their National Campaign for the Break-Up of the Poor Law, and he had been editor of the monthly journal, The Crusade. Leonard Woolf wrote many years afterwards that he had an affection for Clifford Sharp, but: "It was the kind of affection that one sometimes gets for an old, mangy, bad-tempered, slightly dangerous dog. One is rather proud of being among the few whom he will with a growl allow to pat him gingerly on the head."

Clifford Sharp had been trained as an engineer, and it always seemed to me that he brought to human relations, to politics, to journalism, the attitude of the engineer, of a sanitary engineer or super-plumber.

Temperamentally and fundamentally he was a Conservative of the Rule Britannia, Disraelian, 1878 vintage; but he was also, as the Webbs used to point out with quiet enjoyment, a collectivist. Indeed, collectivism - material or spiritual - were the only things Sharp believed in.

The unending arguments about presentation, space and position in The Star became wearing. I had foreseen the possibilities of personal crisis about all this, so, as an insurance, I began to develop some footholds in quarters where I could place some better drawing: Punch, The Graphic and elsewhere.

The portraits I had been working on so long were now coming up to the final stage. I had Robert Lynd introduce me to Clifford Sharp, the editor of The New Statesman, and I offered them to him for a first publication at a small fee on condition he agreed to do them as offset plate-stamped loose supplements.

Arnold Bennett was a director of the New Statesman and immensely proud of being a director of the Savoy Hotel as well. He was one of the very kindest of men, with a formidable stutter. He would begin a sentence and stop. If you looked at him you found yourself staring straight down his gullet. He gave a lunch party to the other directors at the Savoy, at the same time rather embarrassingly putting me through my paces.

"What are your... p-p-politics?"

I said, rather too timidly, for I did not know his politics, that I should call myself a Socialist. "I should hope so," said Bennett, as if it would be disgraceful to be anything else.

I was appointed editor only just before Arnold Bennett died, unexpectedly and I believe unnecessarily. I persuaded the board to appoint David Low in his place; that was the beginning of a long friendship.

My appointment as editor of the New Statesman seemed to Keynes a golden opportunity for getting rid of a costly incubus. He wrote in August 1930 that in view of the Manchester Guardian's "very non-committal attitude to everything" he was not surprised that I was leaving. Later we had a long conversation, while, for some reason or other, he was changing his socks.

"Are you a Socialist or a Liberal?" I said, "A Socialist". I did not then understand fully what was in his mind. He had decided that England must break sharply with the Liberal tradition.

"Are you going to stand for the necessary interference with free trade and laissez-faire?"

Reassured on this point, he offered an amalgamation of the Nation with the New Statesman, only stipulating that it should not be a merger but a genuine union of the two newspapers.

I had also managed to get one or two stories into the New Statesman, and was elated when I won a competition with a £5 prize for a piece of literary criticism. My contribution was described as having 'a pleasant youthful impertinence free from the rather heavy solemnity which overcame most of the essayists who sat down to write about Literature'. Eagerly I went to see the editor, Kingsley Martin, who had not long been in the chair, hoping I should at least get a few books to review from time to time. He explained to me that they were not looking for writers, of whom they had quite enough already; what they were looking for was new readers, which the competition I had entered for was intended to attract.

My own contribution, it seems to me looking back today, was first high spirits and second "a concern for fine and often unpopular causes". Clifford Sharp once said that the New Statesman should have an 'attitude' to public affairs rather than a 'policy'. That suited me. I was a political hybrid, a product of pacifist nonconformity, Cambridge scepticism, Manchester Guardian Liberalism, and London School of Economics Socialism.

Always a poor man, I combined in myself many of the inconsistencies and conflicts of the period which long tried to reconcile pacifism with collective security, and a defence of individual liberty with the necessity of working with Communists against Fascists. I suppose my prime attitude was a dissenter's. A dissenter sees the world is bad and expresses his moral indignation.

This was rather the Nation aspect of my training than the New Statesman part. Like Massingham, I tended to be angry. War was always the ultimate horror, and I could not bear to be silent about the sufferings of minorities and cruelty inflicted on individuals, even when the aggressors were my friends. At times the paper became more than anything else the voice of the minorities and a vehicle of protest. It also had a constructive, Socialist side.

In general we supported the Left Wing of Labour. Our independence was infuriating to the leaders of the party. Politicians think in terms of votes, and do not understand that in the long run it is the climate of opinion that matters. Herbert Morrison, whom I backed wrongly as I realised later, against Attlee as leader of the party in 1935, was often very angry with me; he thought a Socialist paper ought to be putting the case for the Labour Party without reservation and bringing people along to the polls. He didn't see that it was the teachers and preachers of all types who as a result of steady reading of the paper were converted to Socialism. It was they who became the real backbone of the party, and not the mass who could be swayed one way or the other by propaganda.

New Statesman

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New Statesman, political and literary weekly magazine published in London, probably England’s best-known political weekly, and one of the world’s leading journals of opinion. It was founded in 1913 by Sidney and Beatrice Webb. He was a Fabian Socialist and she his political and literary partner, and their journal reflected their views, becoming an independent socialist forum for serious intellectual discussion, political commentary, and criticism. The magazine is famous for its aggressive and often satirical analysis of the British and world political scenes. Its contributors are drawn from among the most distinguished writers in Britain as a result, its political commentary, cultural articles and critical reviews of the arts, and letters to the editor are known for their elegance and wit.

This article was most recently revised and updated by Adam Augustyn, Managing Editor, Reference Content.

After 150 years of journalism, what do you like most about the American-Statesman?

As we mark the 150th anniversary of the American-Statesman, first published as the Democratic Statesman on July 26, 1871, we want to hear more from you.

The paper has changed a lot during the past 150 years, much of it for the better.

It also grew as a business. From its cramped initial headquarters inside a since-demolished building at 813 Congress Ave., the American-Statesman &mdash formed by the merger of the Statesman and the American in 1924 &mdash moved through 13 different locations, each new one usually larger than the previous spot.

During the past year &mdash and continuing into the next months &mdash we've published a series of histories that reported on what led up to this sesquicentennial moment.

Along with the usual topics of business, politics, sports and entertainment, the newspaper covered dozens of American wars, most recently sending its own reporters overseas.

Today, the Statesman and Austin360, the paper's entertainment and features wing, reaches tens of thousands of readers each day in print and online. It is no longer as large as it was 25 years ago &mdash very few American newspapers are &mdash but it is still the biggest news outlet in town, a position it has maintained since its earliest days.

These days, the Statesman has redoubled its efforts to produce effective investigative reports, along with top-notch sports, politics, entertainment and business coverage, as well as deep looks at what defines our culture. Its journalists are also committed to telling stories that might have been ignored during the past because of skewed ideas about what constituted newsworthiness.

We've earned plenty of critics over the years &mdash and we'll hear from them again &mdash but we wondered what has kept you engaged with the digital and/or print version of the Statesman.


    as Alan B'Stard as Piers Fletcher-Dervish as Sarah B'Stard as Norman/Norma Bormann (Series 1 she was credited as "R. R. Cooper" in all but episode six, in order to keep her gender uncertain) as Roland Gidleigh-Park (Series 1) as Beatrice Protheroe (Series 1) as Mrs Thatcher (Series 1–2) as Sir Stephen Baxter (Series 1–2) as Bob Crippen (Series 1–2) as Geoff Diquead (Series 2) as Sir Greville McDonald (Series 2–4) as Frau Kleist MEP, who shares Alan's office for most of Series 4. as Sidney Bliss, (played by John Normington in the special Who Shot. ) a former hangman and current publican in Alan's constituency as Sir Malachi Jellicoe (Series 1) as Paddy O'Rourke

Alan Beresford B'Stard Edit

B'Stard is a selfish, greedy, dishonest, devious, lecherous, sadistic, self-serving ultra-right-wing Conservative backbencher, a sociopathic schemer who occasionally resorts to murder to fulfil his megalomaniac ambitions. The show was mostly set in B'Stard's antechambers in the Palace of Westminster and featured Piers Fletcher-Dervish as B'Stard's twittish upper-class sidekick. B'Stard shared a middle name with Norman Tebbit.

B'Stard was MP for the then fictional constituency of Haltemprice. (In 1997, re-drawn boundaries led to the constituency of Boothferry in East Yorkshire being renamed "Haltemprice and Howden"). Goldsborough Hall, near Knaresborough, was used to portray his Yorkshire country residence and used as a backdrop for the opening photo sequences along with a few exterior shots in the first season including the scene where he tries to run over the gardener in his Bentley. The town of Knaresborough, North Yorkshire was used to film the opening election sequence in the first episode and roads around Goldsborough were used to shoot the police car chase from the first series where the policeman's gun backfires. Some city scenes were not filmed in London, but Leeds, with Leeds Town Hall used as the High Court.

Alan was the youngest MP at the age of 31, and was a distillation of the greed and callousness that were considered the hallmarks of new money Thatcherites. B'Stard was married to Sarah, a vain, devious nymphomaniac who wanted nothing more than for Alan to die so she could become a rich widow. The couple cheated on each other in perpetuity but remained in a marriage of convenience Sarah because of Alan's money and Alan because Sarah's father controlled the local Tory Party and held Alan's seat in his gift.

Alan's schemes grew wilder and more bold as the series progressed taking in bribery, murder and provoking Trade Union disputes to make a profit. Later, B'Stard would intentionally mismanage the Tory election campaign so Labour would be blamed for an economic crisis, stage his own assassination to bring back hanging (and make £1,000,000 in the process). In the last episode he creates splits in both the Tory and Labour Parties and names himself Lord Protector.

Whatever crises and scandals swirled around the evil B'Stard, he would always come up smelling of roses. When accused of engaging in sex acts with minors, Alan successfully sued The Times newspaper when he plotted to get his hands on the stolen millions of Robert Maxwell who was hiding in Bosnia he was hailed as a humanitarian hero. Even when Alan was sentenced to death he managed to escape the noose and retain his position in Parliament. B'Stard's greatest triumph came when he managed to get himself released from incarceration in a Siberian gulag following his assassination attempt on Soviet president Mikhail Gorbachev and returned to the UK a hero. Having lost his Westminster seat during his forced absence in Russia, Alan manages to procure himself a German seat in the European Union's parliament as well as getting Piers onto the European Commission, with the two of them proceeding to cause more havoc on the continent and further enhance Alan's reputation back home.

B'Stard would habitually use others to aid his quest for money and power. Sidney Bliss, the local pub landlord (and a former hangman), was completely in his power in the hope of regaining his position. Many others – old Nazis, Cabinet Ministers and even Salman Rushdie — would regularly pay to buy his silence.

A running joke throughout the series was that, despite his extreme good looks and how easy it was for him to pursue his constant womanising, B'Stard was very under-endowed and suffered from premature ejaculation. A good quantity of women he bedded would be disappointed or contemptuous of his abilities in bed, despite his delusion that they must have enjoyed his sexual company as much as he did theirs. In fact, he thinks it a sign of virility that he's able to be so quick in bed.

In the stage show it was revealed that Alan had been the architect of New Labour when he realised the Tories were done for (effectively ignoring the last episode of the series), picking a young guitar-playing hippie named Tony Blair and grooming him to be PM. B'Stard transformed Labour into a second Conservative Party, eradicating socialism and effectively running the country from his palatial office at Number 9 Downing Street. The show saw an older Alan, fabulously rich after orchestrating Black Wednesday, still up to his old tricks playing America and Al-Qaeda off each other in the hunt for weapons of mass destruction. By now, Alan is onto his fourth wife (Arrabella Lucretia B'Stard), although the show's first run saw Sarah still firmly in place.

Until May 2007 [1] Alan wrote a weekly opinion column in the Sunday Telegraph where he would detail his involvement in current events and even contributed to a Telegraph special of the Blair years where he hinted at being behind the deaths of John Smith, Mo Mowlam and Robin Cook. In the stage show, Alan's involvement in the death of David Kelly was also hinted at.

The newspaper column was written to suggest that the stage show was written by B'Stard himself to communicate his triumphs to the ordinaries. After Gordon Brown was named as Blair's successor, B'Stard's final column implied that, bored with the UK and unable to tolerate a Brown premiership, Alan would quit the country to take up a new position as Head of the World Bank, leaving the door open to a potential return. Other columns had implied that Alan had already begun to groom David Cameron, in preparation for the end of New Labour's era and an electoral return for the Conservatives.

Rik Mayall's death on 9 June 2014 prompted Laurence Marks and Maurice Gran to also kill B'Stard by writing an obituary for him (with B'Stard's date of death the same as Mayall's). It is explained that Alan died while making love to his two faithful Polynesian masseurs and states that B'Stard went on to marry Lady Gaga, his fifth wife and left behind five children and twelve grandchildren. It is also revealed that B'Stard's birth date is 29 February. [2]

The Hon. Sir Piers Fletcher-Dervish, Baronet Edit

Alan's bumbling assistant that helps out with his schemes, which at times Piers complicates or outright foils with his naivety. Alan frequently bullies Piers into following his commands and exploits his childlike personality for his own gain. Piers remains loyal to Alan despite the abuse the latter subjects him to any attempts at refusing or rebelling against him tend to end painfully. At one point, Alan ties-up Piers’ beloved childhood teddy bear to a chair and ‘tortures’ it in front of the terrified assistant.

Sarah B'Stard Edit

Alan's materialistic wife who almost equals her husband in his capacity for cruelty and sexual deviancy. Despite coming from a wealthy background herself, she married Alan for his money and to further her social status, being far more invested in her hedonistic desires than his welfare, which she willingly compromises numerous times throughout the series.

Sir Greville McDonald Edit

Sir Greville was introduced in the final episode of series 2, portrayed as a corrupt Cabinet Minister who recruited an unwitting Piers as Junior Minister for Housing in order to 'nod through' some of his shadier housing projects. Sir Greville had his first dealings with B'Stard in this episode who implied he would expose him unless he agreed a similar arrangement for B'Stard, and thus became a suspect for the audience in Alan's shooting at the episode's climax. By the time of Alan's 'Miraculous recovery', Sir Greville had been promoted by Thatcher to Minister for Law and Order and negotiated with Alan for the return of the gallows (earning himself a finder's fee of £50,000). Sir Greville found it particularly amusing when B'Stard was sentenced to death and in fact spent the night of Alan's planned execution with the condemned man's wife.

Greville can be viewed as an older and more restrained version of B'Stard. Just as quick to make shady money and with somewhat sordid personal tastes but with a stronger respect for Parliamentary institutions and the Conservative Party itself. Greville in fact places the good of the Tory Party far above the good of the country and says as much in the last episode.

By series 3, Greville is Secretary of State for the Environment and has developed a love-hate relationship with B'Stard which eventually evolves into a mutual respect. Series 4 found Greville out of Parliament after the 1992 election when local voters disagreed with his decision to place a nuclear waste plant in the middle of his own constituency. After some persuasion from B'Stard, Greville takes over Piers' seat and becomes Secretary of State for European Affairs, thus ensuring a wealth of opportunities to connive with Alan in Europe. The last episode saw Greville split with Alan and become part of The Progressive Federalists who were soundly thrashed by Alan's New Patriotic Party at the polls.

Sir Stephen Baxter Edit

An elderly backbench Conservative MP who shared the office with Alan and Piers during the first two series. Sir Stephen's morally uptight old-school attitude and respect for Parliamentary protocol meant that he contrasted sharply with the self-centred Alan and the clueless Piers, serving as further comic foil to bounce the two of them off. Despite being in Parliament for a very long time he has been resigned to the backbenches for many years after taking the fall in a scandal involving another minister who would go on to become Secretary of State for Wales. Alan has little respect for him and is more than willing to exploit Sir Stephen's helpful and professional nature for his own ends, including plagiarising one of Sir Stephen's speeches in the Commons in order to ensure that Alan's Private Member's Bill on arming the police would pass into law. He is last seen in Series 2 when, having already been alienated by the introduction of TV cameras and film crews into the House of Commons, Sir Stephen witnesses Piers inflating an blow-up Alan B'Stard doll in a suggestive manner. Sir Stephen gives Piers a stern telling-off before declaring that he "might as well accept that peerage" and then leaves the office, suggesting that he moved up to the House of Lords.

Roland Gidleigh-Park Edit

Roland is Alan's despicable father-in-law and leader of the local Conservative Party. His power means that Alan must maintain his favour if he wants to keep his seat. Cruel, if not crueller than Alan, Roland is an opportunist with an xenophobic streak and a love for his daughter, Sarah.

Norman/Norma Bormann Edit

Norman is Alan's accountant and personal confidante. After being forced into hiding by being pursued by the authorities, Norman handles this problem through undergoing a sex-change, and throughout the first season the effects of this sex-change happen rapidly.

Sidney Bliss Edit

Sidney is an elderly, neurotic publican in Alan's Yorkshire constituency, doubling as an infrequent assistant. As a former hangman with an obsessive love for the method of execution, he beckons Alan for the chance to get his old career back.

Bob Crippen Edit

Bob Crippen is a Labour MP who represents the deprived inner city constituency of Bramall and like Alan, he has a large majority. Bob is Alan's first established rival in the series and is self-righteous, but short-tempered. His political career followed time spent working in the car manufacturing industry and as a trades union representative.

Over the course of the series, stage shows and newspaper columns, Alan opined on numerous topics, most of which demonstrated his contempt for the working class and indeed anyone not of the political and financial elite (the ordinaries). During an argument with a constituent, B'Stard declared that he believed he was helping British industry by driving a Bentley (a Lagonda In series 4) and having his suits handmade by British craftsmen. B'Stard's arrogance even extended to stating that there was nothing wrong with the education system that could not be put right with £2,500 a term, and that National Health Service (NHS) waiting lists could be abolished by shutting down the health service, thereby eradicating poor people and eliminating poverty. B'Stard continued this train of thought through his defection to New Labour when he was instrumental in arranging a postcode lottery for cancer treatment so that "only the right people get better".

Alan at one time proposed inverting the rallying cry of the American War of Independence by stating that "No representation without taxation" was a more fitting clarion call, believing people such as himself (the "enterprising, over-taxed minority") to be called on far too often to bail out other members of society. Alan used the same argument when proposing to cut off all social security payments to elderly people as he believes they should have considered how they would look after themselves instead of wasting their money on "ghastly holidays in Blackpool". When being interviewed by Brian Walden, Alan readily conceded that should he rule the UK, the rich would only pay tax on their cocaine, children would be forced to work in mills and the elderly and infirm would be left to die by the thousands. [ citation needed ]

The sitcom was one of the most critically successful ITV comedy series of its day, and developed a strong following: the audience laughter was so loud and persistent that it apparently caused the show to overrun and the writers had to shorten the scripts to compensate. However, it was also regarded as very cruel and irreverent, treating all its subjects with black humour and violent slapstick. Rik Mayall said of the audience reaction he received "In the first series people were saying 'Gosh, isn't Rik Mayall good-looking?' but by the second they were saying 'Gosh, isn't Rik Mayall a good actor?' and that's all I ever really wanted."

The Sunday Telegraph Edit

Tying in with the original run of the stage show, British broadsheet newspaper The Sunday Telegraph ran a weekly opinion column penned by Alan B'Stard himself (in reality his creators, Marks and Gran). In it, Mr B'Stard writes as the founder of New Labour and effective ruler of the country, commenting on the week's events in politics, often referring to his frustrations with Tony and the rest of the cabinet. The column is written to suggest that the stage show is actually written by B'Stard himself as a method of communicating his achievements to 'the ordinaries'. One column mentioned how after Alan's divorce from his wife (a sub-plot of the original stage show), the ex-Mrs B'Stard "came over all dead".

New Statesman magazine Edit

A bi-weekly opinion column first appeared in New Statesman magazine in 2010. As with the columns in The Sunday Telegraph and the Daily Mail, the articles are written as if by B'Stard himself as dictated to Marks and Gran. In these latest columns, B'Stard is now a Lord, (his final Sunday Telegraph piece seeing him leave the Commons and the country to become Head of the World Bank) but still commentating on current events.

About the Role:

The New Statesman is recruiting an Executive Editor, Politics, to internationalise and expand the title’s award-winning political coverage

This is a unique opportunity: the Executive Editor, Politics, will report to the Editor-in-Chief and lead the development and execution of the New Statesman's political expansion strategy in Westminster and Holyrood.

General responsibilities:

· Working closely with the Political Editor, the successful candidate will build and then oversee a drastically expanded politics team, ensuring our coverage sets the agenda both domestically and internationally.

· They will be responsible for launching new formats including investigations, a political data journalism unit, and a news-gathering unit. They will coordinate with our growing international team too, to ensure that our political coverage engages audiences beyond the UK.

· The successful candidate will have extensive experience leading political and/or news teams at major media organisations

· Strong management experience, able to build and motivate teams in a highly competitive environment

· An exemplary contacts book, stocked with leading government figures but also new columnists and writers with fresh perspectives

· Experience with multimedia, newsletters, broadcast media and media strategy are all crucial to the role, as is experience with data journalism and data journalists

· The successful candidate must also be comfortable working with audience data and committed to using it to reach intelligent and engaged audiences – both in the UK and abroad.


Early years Edit

The New Statesman was founded in 1913 by Sidney and Beatrice Webb with the support of George Bernard Shaw and other prominent members of the Fabian Society. [12] The Fabians previously had supported The New Age but that journal by 1912 had moved away from supporting Fabian politics and issues such as women's suffrage. The first editor of the New Statesman was Clifford Sharp, who remained editor until 1928. Desmond MacCarthy joined the paper in 1913 and became literary editor, recruiting Cyril Connolly to the staff in 1928. J.C. Squire edited the magazine when Sharp was on wartime duties during the First World War.

In November 1914, three months after the beginning of the war, the New Statesmen published a lengthy anti-war supplement by Shaw, "Common Sense About The War", [13] a scathing dissection of its causes, which castigated all nations involved but particularly savaged the British. It sold a phenomenal 75,000 copies by the end of the year and created an international sensation. The New York Times reprinted it as America began its lengthy debate on entering what was then called "the European War". [14]

During Sharp's last two years in the post, from around 1926, he was debilitated by chronic alcoholism and the paper was actually edited by his deputy Charles Mostyn Lloyd. Although the Webbs and most Fabians were closely associated with the Labour Party, Sharp was drawn increasingly to the Asquith Liberals. [15]

Lloyd stood in after Sharp's departure until the appointment of Kingsley Martin as editor in 1930 – a position Martin was to hold for 30 years.

1931–1960: Kingsley Martin Edit

In 1931 the New Statesman merged with the Liberal weekly The Nation and Athenaeum and changed its name to the New Statesman and Nation, which it kept until 1964. The chairman of The Nation and Athenaeum ' s board was the economist John Maynard Keynes, who came to be an important influence on the newly merged paper, which started with a circulation of just under 13,000. It also absorbed The Week-end Review in 1934 (one element of which survives in the shape of the New Statesman ' s Weekly Competition, and the other the "This England" feature). The Competition feature, in which readers submitted jokes and often parodies and pastiches of the work of famous authors, became one of the most famous parts of the magazine. [16] Most famously, Graham Greene won second prize in a challenge to parody his own work.

During the 1930s, Martin's New Statesman moved markedly to the left politically. It became strongly anti-fascist and pacifist, opposing British rearmament. [17] After the 1938 Anschluss, Martin wrote: "Today if Mr. Chamberlain would come forward and tell us that his policy was really one not only of isolation but also of Little Englandism in which the Empire was to be given up because it could not be defended and in which military defence was to be abandoned because war would totally end civilization, we for our part would wholeheartedly support him." [18]

The magazine provoked further controversy with its coverage of Joseph Stalin's Soviet Union. In 1932, Keynes reviewed Martin's book on the Soviet Union, Low's Russian Sketchbook. Keynes argued that Martin was "a little too full perhaps of good will" towards Stalin, and that any doubts about Stalin's rule had "been swallowed down if possible". [19] Martin was irritated by Keynes's article but still allowed it to be printed. [19] In a 17 September 1932 editorial, the magazine accused the British Conservative press of misrepresenting the Soviet Union's agricultural policy but added that "the serious nature of the food situation is no secret and no invention". The magazine defended the Soviet collectivisation policy, but also said the policy had "proceeded far too quickly and lost the cooperation of farmers". [20] In 1934 it ran an interview with Stalin by H. G. Wells. Although sympathetic to aspects of the Soviet Union, he disagreed with Stalin on several issues. [19] The debate resulted in several more articles in the magazine in one of them, George Bernard Shaw accused Wells of being disrespectful to Stalin during the interview. [19]

In 1938 came Martin's refusal to publish George Orwell's celebrated dispatches from Barcelona during the Spanish civil war because they criticised the communists for suppressing the anarchists and the left-wing Workers' Party of Marxist Unification (POUM). "It is an unfortunate fact", Martin wrote to Orwell, "that any hostile criticism of the present Russian regime is liable to be taken as propaganda against socialism". [21] Martin also refused to allow any of the magazine's writers to review Leon Trotsky's anti-Stalinist book The Revolution Betrayed. [22]

Martin became more critical of Stalin after the Hitler-Stalin pact, claiming Stalin was "adopting the familiar technique of the Fuhrer", and adding: "Like Hitler, he [Stalin] has a contempt for all arguments except that of superior force." [23] The magazine also condemned the Soviet Invasion of Finland. [24]

Circulation grew enormously under Martin's editorship, reaching 70,000 by the end of the Second World War. This number helped the magazine become a key player in Labour politics. The paper welcomed Labour's 1945 general election victory but took a critical line on the new government's foreign policy. The young Labour MP Richard Crossman, who had become an assistant editor of the magazine before the war, was Martin's chief lieutenant in this period, and the Statesman published Keep Left, the pamphlet written by Crossman, Michael Foot and Ian Mikardo, that most succinctly laid out the Labour left's proposals for a "third force" foreign policy rather than alliance with the United States.

During the 1950s, the New Statesman remained a left critic of British foreign and defence policy and of the Labour leadership of Hugh Gaitskell, although Martin never got on personally with Aneurin Bevan, the leader of the anti-Gaitskellite Labour faction. The magazine opposed the Korean War, and an article by J. B. Priestley directly led to the founding of the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament. [ citation needed ]

There was much less focus on a single political line in the back part of the paper, which was devoted to book reviews and articles on cultural topics. Indeed, with these pages managed by Janet Adam Smith, who was literary editor from 1952 to 1960, the paper was sometimes described as a pantomime horse: its back half was required reading even for many who disagreed with the paper's politics. This tradition would continue into the 1960s with Karl Miller as Smith's replacement.

1960–1996: After Kingsley Martin Edit

Martin retired in 1960 and was replaced as editor by John Freeman, a politician and journalist who had resigned from the Labour government in 1951 along with Bevan and Harold Wilson. Freeman left in 1965 and was followed in the chair by Paul Johnson, then on the left, under whose editorship the Statesman reached its highest ever circulation. For some, even enemies of Johnson such as Richard Ingrams, this was a strong period for the magazine editorially.

After Johnson's departure in 1970, the Statesman went into a long period of declining circulation under successive editors: Richard Crossman (1970–72), who tried to edit it at the same time as playing a major role in Labour politics Anthony Howard (1972–78), whose recruits to the paper included Christopher Hitchens, Martin Amis and James Fenton (surprisingly, the arch anti-Socialist Auberon Waugh was writing for the Statesman at this time before returning to The Spectator) Bruce Page (1978–82), who moved the paper towards specialising in investigative journalism, sacking Arthur Marshall, who had been writing for the Statesman on and off since 1935, as a columnist, allegedly because of the latter's support for Margaret Thatcher Hugh Stephenson (1982–86), under whom it took a strong position again for unilateral nuclear disarmament John Lloyd (1986–87), who swung the paper's politics back to the centre Stuart Weir (1987–90), under whose editorship the Statesman founded the Charter 88 constitutional reform pressure group and Steve Platt (1990–96).

The Statesman acquired the weekly New Society in 1988 and merged with it, becoming New Statesman and Society for the next eight years, then reverting to the old title, having meanwhile absorbed Marxism Today in 1991. In 1993, the Statesman was sued by Prime Minister John Major after it published an article discussing rumours that Major was having an extramarital affair with a Downing Street caterer. [25] Although the action was settled out of court for a minimal sum, [26] the magazine's legal costs almost led to its closure. [27]

In 1994, KGB defector Yuri Shvets said that the KGB utilised the New Statesman to spread disinformation. Shvets said that the KGB had provided disinformation, including forged documents, to the New Statesman journalist Claudia Wright which she used for anti-American and anti-Israel stories in line with the KGB's campaigns. [28] [29] By 1996 the magazine was selling 23,000 copies a week. New Statesman was the first periodical to go online, hosted by the, in 1995. [30]

Since 1996 Edit

The New Statesman was rescued from near-bankruptcy by a takeover by businessman Philip Jeffrey but in 1996, after prolonged boardroom wrangling [31] over Jeffrey's plans, it was sold to Geoffrey Robinson, the Labour MP and businessman. Following Steve Platt's resignation, Robinson appointed a former editor of The Independent, Ian Hargreaves, on what was at the time an unprecedentedly high salary. Hargreaves fired most of the left-wingers on the staff and turned the Statesman into a strong supporter of Tony Blair's leadership of the Labour Party. [32]

Hargreaves was succeeded by Peter Wilby, also from the Independent stable, who had previously been the Statesman ′ s books editor, in 1998. Wilby attempted to reposition the paper back "on the left". His stewardship was not without controversy. In 2002, for example, the periodical was accused of antisemitism when it published an investigative cover story on the power of the "Zionist lobby" in Britain, under the title "A Kosher Conspiracy?". [33] The cover was illustrated with a gold Star of David resting on a Union Jack. Wilby responded to the criticisms in a subsequent issue. [34] During Wilby's seven-year tenure, the New Statesman moved from making a financial loss to having a good operating profit, though circulation only remained steady at around 23,000. [32]

John Kampfner, Wilby's political editor, succeeded him as editor in May 2005 following considerable internal lobbying [ citation needed ] . Under Kampfner's editorship, a relaunch in 2006 initially saw headline circulation climb to over 30,000. However, over 5,000 of these were apparently monitored free copies, [35] and Kampfner failed to maintain the 30,000 circulation he had pledged. In February 2008, Audit Bureau Circulation figures showed that circulation had plunged nearly 13% in 2007. [36] Kampfner resigned on 13 February 2008, the day before the ABC figures were made public, reportedly due to conflicts with Robinson over the magazine's marketing budget (which Robinson had apparently slashed in reaction to the fall in circulation).

In April 2008, Geoffrey Robinson sold a 50% interest in the magazine to businessman Mike Danson, and the remainder a year later. [37] The appointment of the new editor Jason Cowley was announced on 16 May 2008, but he did not take up the job until the end of September 2008. [38]

In January 2009, the magazine refused to recognise the National Union of Journalists, the trade union to which almost of all its journalists belonged, though further discussions were promised but never materialised. [39]

Cowley was named current affairs editor of the year at the British Society of Magazine Editors awards in 2009, [40] and in 2011 he was named editor of the year in the Newspaper & Current Affairs Magazine Category at the British Society of Magazine Editors awards, while Jon Bernstein, the deputy editor, gained the award for Consumer Website Editor of the Year. [41] Cowley had been shortlisted as Editor of the Year (consumer magazines) in the 2012 PPA (Professional Publishers Association) Awards. [42] He was also shortlisted for the European Press Prize editing award in January 2013, when the awards committee said: "Cowley has succeeded in revitalising the New Statesman and re-establishing its position as an influential political and cultural weekly. He has given the New Statesman an edge and a relevance to current affairs it hasn’t had for years." [43]

The magazine published a 186-page centenary special in April 2013, the largest single issue in its history. It also published two special editions (250 and 150 pages), showcasing 100 years of the best and boldest journalism from its archives. In the following year it expanded its web presence by establishing two new websites:, a polling data site focused on the 2015 general election, and CityMetric, a cities magazine site under the tagline, "Urbanism for the social media age" and edited by Jonn Elledge.

It was announced in December 2016 that the Weekend Competition, a feature inherited from The Week-end Review, would be discontinued, for reasons of space.

As of 2020, the New Statesman considers itself a "print-digital hybrid" with peak online traffic of over 4 million unique visitors per month, almost a four-fold increase since 2011. This compares to the magazine's overall circulation of 36,591, [9] and paid-for circulation of 34,451 as of January 2021, the highest level for 40 years. [44]

At the 2020 British Society of Magazine Editors (BSME) awards, editor Jason Cowley was named Current Affairs and Politics editor of the year for the fourth time, defeating rivals from The Spectator, The Big Issue and Prospect. "In increasingly tribal times, Jason Cowley continues to champion independence of thought and diversity of opinion, challenging his audience and producing a magazine that’s imaginative, unpredictable and interesting," the BSME judges said on presenting the award. [45]

The magazine's Spotlight series (which publishes specialist business content) also won the Launch of the Year award, with judges describing the supplements as a "great example of monetising a brand without losing its integrity". [45]

The New Statesman took a neutral position in the 2019 general election. [46] It was the first time in the magazine's history it had explicitly chosen not to endorse Labour. [47]

In March 2009 the magazine had its first guest editor, Alastair Campbell, the former head of communications for Tony Blair. Campbell chose to feature his partner Fiona Millar, Tony Blair (in an article "Why we must all do God"), football manager Alex Ferguson, and Sarah Brown, the wife of Prime Minister Gordon Brown. This editorship was condemned by Suzanne Moore, a contributor to the magazine for twenty years. She wrote in a Mail on Sunday article: "New Statesman fiercely opposed the Iraq war and yet now hands over the reins to someone key in orchestrating that conflict". [48] [ deprecated source? ] Campbell responded: "I had no idea she worked for the New Statesman. I don't read the Mail on Sunday. But professing commitment to leftwing values in that rightwing rag lends a somewhat weakened credibility to anything she says." [49]

In September 2009, the magazine was guest-edited by Labour politician Ken Livingstone, the former mayor of London. [50]

In October 2010, the magazine was guest-edited by British author and broadcaster Melvyn Bragg. The issue included a previously unpublished poem [51] by Ted Hughes, "Last letter", describing what happened during the three days leading up to the suicide of his first wife, the poet Sylvia Plath. Its first line is: "What happened that night? Your final night."—and the poem ends with the moment Hughes is informed of his wife's death.

In April 2011, the magazine was guest-edited by human rights activist Jemima Khan. The issue featured a series of exclusives including the actor Hugh Grant's secret recording [52] of former News of the World journalist Paul McMullan, and a much-commented-on [53] interview [54] with Liberal Democrat leader and Deputy Prime Minister Nick Clegg, in which Clegg admitted that he "cries regularly to music" and that his nine-year-old son asked him, "'Why are the students angry with you, Papa?'"

In June 2011, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, created a furore as guest editor by claiming that the Coalition government had introduced "radical, long term policies for which no one had voted" and in doing so had created "anxiety and anger" among many in the country. He was accused of being highly partisan, notwithstanding his having invited Iain Duncan Smith, the Work and Pensions Secretary to write an article and having interviewed the Foreign Secretary William Hague in the same edition. He also noted that the Labour Party had failed to offer an alternative to what he called "associational socialism". The Statesman promoted the edition on the basis of Williams' alleged attack on the government, whereas Williams himself had ended his article by asking for "a democracy capable of real argument about shared needs and hopes and real generosity".

In December 2011 the magazine was guest-edited by Richard Dawkins. The issue included the writer Christopher Hitchens's final interview, [55] conducted by Dawkins in Texas, and pieces by Bill Gates, Sam Harris, Daniel Dennett and Philip Pullman.

In October 2012 the magazine was guest-edited by Chinese dissident artist Ai Weiwei [56] and, for the first time, published simultaneously in Mandarin (in digital form) and English. To evade China's internet censors, the New Statesman uploaded the issue to file-sharing sites such as BitTorrent. As well as writing that week's editorial, [57] Ai Weiwei interviewed the Chinese civil rights activist Chen Guangcheng, [58] who fled to the United States after exposing the use of compulsory abortions and sterilisations. The issue was launched on 19 October 2012 at the Lisson Gallery in London, [59] where speakers including artist Anish Kapoor and lawyer Mark Stephens paid tribute to Ai Weiwei.

In October 2013 the magazine was guest-edited by Russell Brand, with contributions from David Lynch, Noel Gallagher, Naomi Klein, Rupert Everett, Amanda Palmer, and Alec Baldwin, [60] as well as an essay by Brand. [61]

In October 2014, the magazine was guest-edited by the artist Grayson Perry, whose essay titled "Default Man" was widely discussed.

The former British prime minister Gordon Brown guest-edited the magazine in 2016, a special edition exploring Britain's relationship with Europe ahead of the EU referendum. Contributors to the issue included the Nobel laureate Amartya Sen and Michael Sandel.


Ah, TV First! This was the Sunday People’s TV guide with the big attraction being that it was for the following week, starting the next Saturday, so you could get all of next week’s telly two days before the Radio Times came out on Tuesday. This was hugely exciting at the time, the best thing about the People by absolutely miles, although inevitably it was full of errors because of late changes they’d gone to press too early to pick up. I can’t remember when they stopped doing it, it didn’t last that long.

I was an adolescent at the time but I was a big fan of the Sunday papers, we used to get the People and the News of the World, and I know they were hardly recommended reading for that age group, but I read the latter for Charlie Catchpole, Captain Cash and the comic strips in the Sunday magazine, and the former for the TV guide.

I would agree that Absolutely Fabulous went off the boil very quickly, it rather went from satirising the industry to being a part of it. I remember David Quantick reviewing series one and two on video in Q magazine and saying you could tell the difference by just looking at the covers – in series one the design is clearly deliberately ridiculous and gaudy and Saunders and Lumley look suitably daft and embarrassed, and then in series two everything’s in a self-consciously stylish typeface and Saunders and Lumley look like they’ve decided they quite like this kind of thing.

It didn’t help that every clip show used to include a montage of the pair of them falling over, as if that was the whole point of the programme. I remember one show on the history of the sitcom only using that to illustrate the series, which not only hardly explained the point of it but also made it look a hundred times more repetitive than it actually was.

Minus 2. Proper Christmas weather. Not like this global warming shite we get these days. Harrrumph.

The cream of the New Statesman and a coffee-table history of the LRB

In a stunning essay on the realities (and seeming unrealities) of the menopause, featured in The New Statesman’s “best of” anthology, Statesmanship, Suzanne Moore quotes Angela Davis’s take on the serenity prayer: “I’m no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I’m changing the things I cannot accept.” This seems like an apt quote to accompany the entirety of the collection.

Subtitled “The best of the New Statesman 1913-2019” and edited by Jason Crowley, Statesmanship, claims to be “more than an anthology”. Rather, it “tells the story of the New Statesman, from the eve of the first World War to the long aftermath of 9/11 and the Great Recession through which we are still passing.” Quite the claim, but the essays, letters, short stories and poems that make up this impressive collection manage to do just that, and then some.

Founded in 1913 by members of the Fabian society, with a fifth of the £5,000 start-up funds supplied by George Bernard Shaw, the New Statesman was designed as a weekly review of politics and literature that would, in Cowley’s words, “propagate their [the Fabians’] ideas and promote what they hoped would be a scientific-socialist transformation of society.” While, admittedly, the content may have strayed somewhat from this precise edict over the last 107 years, it hasn’t gone too far awry. As Cowley writes in his introduction, “it [the NS] succeeded in expressing the hopes and aspirations of a generation of progressives who believed that history had a purpose and direction. But it was not only of interest to progressives: the Statesman was essential reading for anyone interested in politics and culture, irrespective of their ideological allegiances."

The same could be said of Statesmanship. The anthology brings together some of the most impressive and significant, as well as thought-provoking and, at times, even moving, writing from the New Statesman’s history, tucked neatly under thematic headings such as “A Radical Century”, “Lives and Letters” and “The Rest of Life”. If such a collection ought to give an idea of what was being pondered and hotly debated over the years of its existence, this aim is here achieved. Many of the pieces read as well today as they must have done upon their original publication – and they certainly prove just as fascinating.

Take HG Wells’s infamously deferential interview with Stalin from 1934, or WW Crotch’s “Early Recollections of Adolf Hitler” from 1933, which contains such mesmerising details as “Another thing that struck me was the man’s utter incapacity to deal with important details. When he spoke of Italy, or the German race, or occultism, or the Jews, his talk was a succession of vague generalities, couched in attractive if flowery language, but showing in every case either complete ignorance or at least complete contempt for detail.”

Take, too, David Bowie described as “a mild fad hystericised by ‘the media’,’’ by Martin Amis, Picasso as distinctly of his time by John Berger and “Beatlesism” as indicative of all that was wrong with the youth of the day “Those who flock round the Beatles, who scream themselves into hysteria, are the least fortunate of their generation, the dull, the idle, the failures.”

Later in the collection come resonant personal essays such as “Am I a Jew?” by Bernard Levin and the refreshing “Notes from a maternity ward” by the inimitable Angela Carter, followed by a selection of four of the magazine’s best short stories over the years, including a fantastic piece by Sally Rooney from 2017. Statesmanship closes with poems by such eminent figures as Yeats, Heaney, Philip Larkin, Carol Ann Duffy and Wendy Cope, finally concluding elegantly with Clive James’s “Driftwood Houses” from 2014. Addressed to his wife, written at a time when he was terminally ill and grappling with his own mortality, as well as reflecting on the beauty of his life, it most fittingly concludes “And here they come. They’re gathering shells again. / And you in your straw hat, I see you now, / As I lie restless yet most blessed of men.”

London Review of Books

Somewhat less successful is another recent anthology, this by the London Review of Books, with the subheading An Incomplete History. “A Scrappy History” may have been more suitable.

The LRB anthology is, unlike Statesmanship, first and foremost a coffee table book, too large to be transported or even read comfortably. This, alongside the description on its accompanying press release as “The most literary gift of the year,” sets out the editors’ stall.

Published to celebrate the magazine’s 40th anniversary, rather than actually offering any complete articles or reviews from the magazine’s history, this anthology instead provides a series of short explanations written by its current editors and contributors, printed to accompany a scrapbook-style collage of handwritten post-it notes, scribbled-on transcripts, private and public letters and emails, and excerpts from finished pieces. It’s a bit of a headache to read.

It appears to be designed to cater to those interested in (or, perhaps more accurately, "obsessed with") the magazine as an object. Reading through it, continually frustrated by the incomplete information, as well as the self-congratulatory tone adopted by some of the editors, I was reminded of how it felt to flick through those specialist books that die-hard fans sometimes purchase to accompany and dissect albums or concerts of wildly adored bands or alongside films. In other words, this is a book that caters specifically to fans of the LRB, and will be an absolute gem for those people, if such exist (according to Andrew O’Hagan’s introductory essay, “To those who care for it the London Review is a national treasure,” so I suppose they must).

The anthology, then, celebrates the magazine itself, its inception and history, speaking of its separation from the New York Review of Books in terms that portray it as a seismic event, referencing the great excitement of the “theory wars” that played out on its pages, and dedicating pages to the mildly funny exclamations of its founding editor. Sadly, it does not offer us any comprehensive or objectively interesting insight into its past content (which, let me make clear, is and always has been, in this reviewer’s opinion, exceptional in its quality and breadth – if only it were included). But then, it is presented with the caveat of being “incomplete,” so perhaps my expectations were too high.

You get the impression, reading through this anthology, that you must have missed the joke, or didn’t get an invite to the party – that you simply had to have been there. This is not a pleasant reading sensation. But perhaps the struggle to make a cohesive and universally interesting anthology is understandable, seeing as the LRB is, first and foremost, a vehicle for reviews, rather than for essays or original, creative work, and it is hard, perhaps, to effectively anthologise old reviews. Still, from the perspective of someone who subscribes to the magazine itself, and always looks forward to its arrival, and considering the writers they have featured over the years, this anthology proves disappointing – as they said, a gift, rather than something you might actually want read.

Hear our history: Introducing the new 'Austin Found' podcast

For many years, you&rsquove responded with enthusiasm to stories and images from the city&rsquos past recorded in my "Austin Found" columns. You have also embraced my larger historical stories, such as the March 9 front-page article about the 1918 flu pandemic that shuttered the city for almost a month, or the history/profile of the midcentury Western Trails neighborhood that ran Feb. 26.

Five years ago, your responses to the print columns and articles encouraged me to assemble the first of three story collections in book form under the title "Indelible Austin," published by Waterloo Press, the imprint of the Austin History Center Association. All three volumes are available online and in shops locally.

Five months ago, we launched Think, Texas, a free weekly digital newsletter about Texas history that is distributed statewide through linked Gannett newspaper outlets. My centerpiece Think, Texas column also runs online and in print on Tuesdays in this section. Text "thinktexas" to 33777 to sign up automatically.

Veteran radio personality J.B. Hager, the lead talent at our online station, Austin360 Radio, and I host "Austin Found," a frisky and sometimes provocative podcast based on the print columns, books and newsletters about Austin&rsquos people, places, culture and history. It is available wherever you listen to podcasts.

So far, just Hager and I riff on a wide range of Austin subjects in the first episodes. Later, we plan to host guests &mdash famous and unknown &mdash who come with special knowledge of Austin&rsquos past. We also look forward to events staged in the community, inspired by your questions and comments. (For now, send those to [email protected])

"I absolutely love this city," Hager says in the introductory episode of "Austin Found." "I grew up here. I&rsquove worked here for the past 20 years. If you love this city, you are going to love it even more."

Here are some sample episodes:

1. Native Trails of Austin. What were once were Native American trails are now boulevards and freeways. We can trace the routes taken by Tonkawas, Apaches and Comanches, as well as Spanish, German, Anglo-American and African American pioneers in Central Texas and how they became the modern roads we know so well.

2. Fish Kill. One of the most spectacular fish kills in history hit the Colorado River in 1961 and was traced to an East Austin "insect powder" factory. Green activist Rachel Carson told the basic story in "Silent Spring," but it has been lost to popular memory even as Austin became an environmental mecca. Until now.

3. Mal Wiley, Leonard Flores and Ernie Hinkle. There was a time, not long ago, when all African American police officers in Austin served on a separate and definitely not equal East Austin squad patrolling East 11th and 12th streets, mostly on foot. Officers Mal Wiley, Leonard Flores and Ernie Hinkle all served during the 1950s and &lsquo60s when Austin was a very different city. And they tell their engrossing police stories from very different perspectives.

4. Pvt. "Buck" Simpson. You&rsquove heard of Sgt. York, the most decorated American veteran of World War I. After all, they made a hit movie with Gary Cooper as York. But what about Pvt. "Buck" Simpson, an Austin cedar chopper and the second most decorated American veteran from that war? Turns out, he was a character in a family of Central Texas characters.

5. A Different sort of border town. It&rsquos not obvious to the fresh newcomer, but Austin is a border town. It lies on the boundary between the wet farmlands and forests of the east and the dry ranch lands and scrub hills of the west, and a lot of the city&rsquos culture is derived from that contrast, as well as its position between the Catholic and Lutheran south and the Baptist and Methodist north of Texas.

Sign up soon, and let us know your comments and questions. You inspire our stories!

About the Role:

The New Statesman is recruiting an International Managing Editor for the next stage of its ambitious international expansion. S/he will report to the International Editor and will play the central day-to-day coordinating role in the growing team – and work with the International Editor to devise and execute the next phase of the New Statesman’s international strategy.

General responsibilities:

· Managing a growing team of international correspondents and junior editors

· Building and refining the network of external contributors

· Leading the international commissioning and editing pipeline

· Editing and commissioning pieces

· Coordinating international newsletters and multimedia content

· Constantly honing the quality of international output (style, arguments, headlines, images)

· Playing a central role in analysing audiences and planning future strategy

· Helping to plan, make and integrate further hires into the growing team

· The successful candidate will have extensive experience of commissioning and editing, of managing others, and of writing world-class international affairs journalism.

· Experience of coordinating audio-visual content, managing newsletters and planning media strategy are all highly beneficial. So too are foreign language skills and experience reporting from or living in multiple countries.

· But most important of all are ambition for the New Statesman, a commitment to reaching intelligent and engaged international audiences and a fascination with the ideas shaping the modern world.

Watch the video: СРОЧНО! Британия в ярости! Кремль со скандалом вышвырнул вот из России британскую русофобку