I am now represented in the European Parliament by Nick Griffin. That's not a good feeling. But like it or not, the BNP now has as many MEPs for the North West as the Liberal Democrats. Over in Yorkshire, the former leader of the National Front was elected, giving the BNP the same number of MEPs in that region as Labour and the Liberal Democrats.
The various talking heads have said how awful this is, how the BNP will claim this gives them and their views legitimacy. And, well, the BNP will claim that. And, well, they'll be right.
You see, that's the point of democracy. Sometimes it throws up results you don't like. But that doesn't make them illegitimate - much as I may dislike it, the BNP put themselves up for election, and of those that voted, enough of them agreed with them for them to win seats.
But the key phrase there is "of those that voted". And that was a depressingly low number - in places. Overall turnout was 34.3% - down by 3.9% from 2004's 38.2%. But those figures mask the variation across the country.
In fact, in some areas turnout was up, though only marginally. The East of England, the South West, and the South East all went up by about 1%. But these aren't regions the BNP managed to do well in. The regions the BNP did well in have been traditionally associated with Labour. Obviously the proportional nature of this electoral system changes that a bit, but the ability of the BNP to claim seats must be seen, primarily, as a failure of not all parties, but of one - the Labour Party.
Let's look at the North West and Yorkshire and the Humber regions. In the North West, turnout went from 40.9% to 31.7% - a fall of 9.2%. In Y&H, turnout went from 42.6% to 32.3% - a fall of 10.3%. Put it this way: about a quarter of the people who voted last time didn't bother this time. That's pretty awful.
It gets worse for Labour. In hard numbers, about 470,000 fewer people voted in the North West - and Labour lost about 240,000 votes. In Y&H, about 363,000 fewer people voted - and Labour lost 183,000 votes. Half of the people who didn't vote had been Labour voters. In terms of their share of the vote, Labour lost 7% and 7.5% respectively - about a quarter of their share.
(Remember, even with a falling turnout, the share of the vote would stay the same, all else being equal. A declining share of the vote means, in this case, and in my opinion, that former Labour voters are overwhelmingly more likely not to have voted than those of other parties.)
These figures illustrate a catastrophic collapse of the Labour vote in these areas. In comparison, the Tory vote stayed relatively stable - in fact, their share of the vote increased by only 1.5% in the North West, and dropped by 0.2% in Yorkshire and the Humber. This wasn't a flight to the Tories - they stayed pretty much the same.
A very fair point to make is that the North West and Yorkshire and the Humber were all postal votes last time round. The other two regions that were all-postal last time were the North East and the East Midlands. This time, their turnout dropped as well. In fact, the North East's turnout dropped by more than Yorkshire and the Humber - it went from 40.8% to 30.4% - a fall of 10.4%. The East Midlands, however, had a more modest drop - from 43.4% to 37.1%, a fall of 6.3%.
But I think clinging to the hope the drop in Labour's vote is due mainly to the change from an all-postal ballot is wishful thinking. For a start, the drop in turnout was significantly larger in the areas Labour had previously been stronger - the East Midlands saw a much smaller drop. But, much more significantly, it ignores Wales.
Wales didn't have an all-postal ballot last time. But they saw the biggest percentage drop in turnout this time round - from 41.4% to 30.4%, a massive 11%. About 239,000 fewer people voted - and about 159,000 fewer people voted Labour. The Labour share of the vote went from 32.5%, the second highest of any region in the UK, to 20.3%, the fifth. And, for the first time since the Labour Party became a national party, Labour were beaten in Wales. And beaten by the Tories.
This wasn't a change from an all-postal ballot depressing turnout. No, this was the Labour vote not turning up. There could be many reasons for this. Anyone who has read my past few posts will know I think policy is a main one. Others will point to the expenses scandal hitting Labour harder than the other parties.
I think it's that we have reached a tipping point. And I don't know if Labour can recover from it.
More than 5 years ago, I gave a speech at the final hustings to become the Prospective Parliamentary Candidate for a safe Labour constituency - my home. And because I cared about my home, and because I was worried about the path the Labour Party was on, I gave an honest assessment of where I thought we had been going wrong - ignoring our grass roots, not pursuing policies that would create a fairer society, introducing privitisation into health and education, and so on.
And I told my fellow party members that I wasn't worried about Labour winning in that constituency at the next election. But I was increasingly worried about the election after that, and the one after that. Because I felt the central Party had made a decision that they could safely ignore their heartlands, because they had nowhere else to go, no-one else to vote for.
And, you know what? They are right. The heartlands don't have anywhere else to go. But these European results show that they don't have to go anywhere to cause problems for Labour. They don't have to go to another party. They don't have anywhere to go. So they just stay at home.
(Incidentally, the other place strongly associated with Labour is Scotland. They, however, had a strong opposition to Labour that wasn't the Tories - the SNP. Turnout fell by only 2.4%. Labour lost about 81,000 votes. Coincidentally, the SNP gained about 89,500 votes. In Scotland, former Labour voters do have somewhere else to go.)
Now, I know that European elections are different from general elections. People vote differently, they protest, or they just don't care. But this election, the Labour heartlands have learnt an important lesson - they don't have to vote Labour. They can just... not vote.
That's why the BNP won seats - the Labour vote collapsed. In Yorkshire and the Humber, Labour needed only another 10,270 votes to have stopped the BNP getting a seat. In the North West, Labour would have needed another 60,000 or so - but their vote had fallen by about 240,000. (UKIP would have needed only another 2,449 votes, or the Greens would have needed 4,962.)
No, the election of the BNP isn't a failure of all parties. It's not a failure of the political system. It's not even a sign that the country is becoming racist. It's a sign that the Labour Party is failing, that the Labour Party cannot energise its core vote, that the Labour Party vote is collapsing.
It's a sign that the Labour government needs to start listening to what its party members and voters actually want them to do.
But because they didn't, because Labour failed, I am now represented in the European Parliament by Nick Griffin. For the next 5 years. Thanks a bunch.
Monday 8 June 2009
Sunday 17 May 2009
Disconnection (Part 4)
This is the hardest post I've had to make in this series.
Over the past few days, I've been able to write almost as an observer, discussing what I think is going wrong, but without it really affecting me. Yes, I've managed to whip myself up into the odd bit of righteous anger, but that's about it.
This post is different though. This one is personal. This is about my own disconnect.
Two years ago, I wrote a lament for English socialism. In it, I told of my sorrow that what was left of socialism in the Labour Party couldn't even mount enough of a challenge to Gordon Brown to make him face an election rather than a coronation.
But I didn't leave the party. To do so would have been unthinkable. This is the Labour Party, for heaven's sake. This is the party of Keir Hardie, of Nye Bevan, of Tony Benn. They are owed my loyalty. They demand my loyalty.
And so I resigned myself to forever being disappointed in what the Labour Party did, of making steady compromises with myself to continue voting for them, telling myself that at least they weren't as bad as the Tories.
But things just got worse. After an impressive start, the Brown government started to fall apart, in style as much as substance - and this was before the banking collapse. Last year, I wrote a series of posts about the Brown government, including whether I could vote for Labour again, and what I thought was wrong with politics. And ultimately, I copped out on deciding whether I would vote for them again - but I clearly stated I could never vote for another party:
I was so sure of my commitment, of my connection to Labour, to my tribe. But...
I suppose deep down inside, I wanted to believe that some of the people at the top of the Labour Party were like me. They too had had to compromise remorselessly, steadily moving away from what they believed in their heart to something that would get them elected, elected so they could achieve at least some good.
But then came the financial crisis. When the Telegraph is calling for bank nationalisations, but the Labour government is resisting, you know something has gone very wrong with the world. To the surprise of nobody but me, it turns out it really wasn't a government of revolutionaries reluctantly turned bureaucrats. The lines they had been peddling about the superiority of the market, about its magical efficiency, about how it should be trusted, they really believed them.
The financial crisis shattered the last of my dearly held illusions about the Labour government. Once upon a time, I could believe in their financial competence, rather than them just being the beneficiaries of blind luck and bad decisions made in America. Once upon a time, I could believe that deep down inside, they believed in the same things as me. Once upon a time, I could believe they wanted to change the world.
But once upon a time ended.
And so my certainty that I was Labour through and through, tribal to the end, has been shaken. And, finally, slowly, it has collapsed.
It's so hard for me to express the pain this causes me. I suspect it is like a priest losing his faith - the one clear, definite, fixed point of his life has been destroyed, the one certainty he could cling to no matter what, the defining part of who he is is gone.
But it is worse than that. Because this collapse in my belief also means that now, finally, I can think about voting for someone else. It feels like I am betraying a dear friend, that I am cheating on a spouse, that I am lying to my parents.
The only thing I can point to, the only experience that this feels close to, is the empty, icy-cold feeling inside when your lover leaves you, when the person you had shaped your life around shrugs her shoulders and walks away. It sounds melodramatic, but the hollow devastation is all I can compare it to. But thinking I can vote for someone else means I am also betraying her, that I am the one in the wrong.
Betrayal is the only word I can use, the only one that seems to get over the shock and hurt I feel at where the party has gone, and the shame I feel myself for thinking of going elsewhere.
And I tell myself I shouldn't feel this way, that it may once have been the party of Hardie, Bevan and Benn, but that it isn't anymore. That the party moved away from me, not the other way round. I tell myself this, but it doesn't really help.
I'm grieving for the party as it used to be.
I'm not the first to feel like this. The Labour Party has been leaking members for years. Always I felt they were making a mistake, that sure, not everything was perfect, but that's what politics is all about. And then my father left the party. Secretly I believed he'd end up going back, that he couldn't possibly turn his back on the party.
But now I am seeing more people who have been committed to the party for a lifetime leaving, quietly, unobtrusively, sadly. I know of people who have been lifelong supporters and members, people who have been councillors for decades, people who have devoted a good portion of their lives to the party, simply slipping away.
These are not people who would make a fuss about it - they still have too much respect for what the party used to be to do that. But when we meet each other, then we can share our private grief. We can talk about what used to be, what we still believe, and what we wish would change.
And all this before the revelations on MPs expenses. That will drive people further away. Further away from all parties, but I can't help but feel that Labour will suffer most.
Because, regardless of the truth of the matter, many traditional Labour voters, people like me, would always have expected Tories to be out for themselves, out to get every penny out of us that they could. But not our MPs, not Labour people, surely? But their venality has been lain bare, the dramatic difference in lifestyle they demanded between how we live, and how they do. And they will suffer.
I feel sorry for the honest MPs out there, the ones who have only claimed what they must, those who claimed little. Those who didn't take advantage of the system, regardless of what the rules were. Because now they are tarred with the same brush. Already politicians were viewed as untrustworthy, and now they are viewed as greedy, venal, criminal. A plague on all their houses, primary and secondary.
And so, this is the final disconnect. A personal disconnect. One I have found very hard to write about. Because my party has betrayed me, in thoughts, in words, in deeds. And I have betrayed my party, in my mind if nowhere else yet.
I can't forgive the party. It remains to be seen if I can forgive myself.
Over the past few days, I've been able to write almost as an observer, discussing what I think is going wrong, but without it really affecting me. Yes, I've managed to whip myself up into the odd bit of righteous anger, but that's about it.
This post is different though. This one is personal. This is about my own disconnect.
Two years ago, I wrote a lament for English socialism. In it, I told of my sorrow that what was left of socialism in the Labour Party couldn't even mount enough of a challenge to Gordon Brown to make him face an election rather than a coronation.
But I didn't leave the party. To do so would have been unthinkable. This is the Labour Party, for heaven's sake. This is the party of Keir Hardie, of Nye Bevan, of Tony Benn. They are owed my loyalty. They demand my loyalty.
And so I resigned myself to forever being disappointed in what the Labour Party did, of making steady compromises with myself to continue voting for them, telling myself that at least they weren't as bad as the Tories.
But things just got worse. After an impressive start, the Brown government started to fall apart, in style as much as substance - and this was before the banking collapse. Last year, I wrote a series of posts about the Brown government, including whether I could vote for Labour again, and what I thought was wrong with politics. And ultimately, I copped out on deciding whether I would vote for them again - but I clearly stated I could never vote for another party:
I am a tribal animal. It is a terrible flaw, but there you go. And my tribe is Labour. I am Labour. Always will be. The Liberal Democrats are inconsequential, the Tories beyond the pale. Neither could ever get my vote.
I was so sure of my commitment, of my connection to Labour, to my tribe. But...
I suppose deep down inside, I wanted to believe that some of the people at the top of the Labour Party were like me. They too had had to compromise remorselessly, steadily moving away from what they believed in their heart to something that would get them elected, elected so they could achieve at least some good.
But then came the financial crisis. When the Telegraph is calling for bank nationalisations, but the Labour government is resisting, you know something has gone very wrong with the world. To the surprise of nobody but me, it turns out it really wasn't a government of revolutionaries reluctantly turned bureaucrats. The lines they had been peddling about the superiority of the market, about its magical efficiency, about how it should be trusted, they really believed them.
The financial crisis shattered the last of my dearly held illusions about the Labour government. Once upon a time, I could believe in their financial competence, rather than them just being the beneficiaries of blind luck and bad decisions made in America. Once upon a time, I could believe that deep down inside, they believed in the same things as me. Once upon a time, I could believe they wanted to change the world.
But once upon a time ended.
And so my certainty that I was Labour through and through, tribal to the end, has been shaken. And, finally, slowly, it has collapsed.
It's so hard for me to express the pain this causes me. I suspect it is like a priest losing his faith - the one clear, definite, fixed point of his life has been destroyed, the one certainty he could cling to no matter what, the defining part of who he is is gone.
But it is worse than that. Because this collapse in my belief also means that now, finally, I can think about voting for someone else. It feels like I am betraying a dear friend, that I am cheating on a spouse, that I am lying to my parents.
The only thing I can point to, the only experience that this feels close to, is the empty, icy-cold feeling inside when your lover leaves you, when the person you had shaped your life around shrugs her shoulders and walks away. It sounds melodramatic, but the hollow devastation is all I can compare it to. But thinking I can vote for someone else means I am also betraying her, that I am the one in the wrong.
Betrayal is the only word I can use, the only one that seems to get over the shock and hurt I feel at where the party has gone, and the shame I feel myself for thinking of going elsewhere.
And I tell myself I shouldn't feel this way, that it may once have been the party of Hardie, Bevan and Benn, but that it isn't anymore. That the party moved away from me, not the other way round. I tell myself this, but it doesn't really help.
I'm grieving for the party as it used to be.
I'm not the first to feel like this. The Labour Party has been leaking members for years. Always I felt they were making a mistake, that sure, not everything was perfect, but that's what politics is all about. And then my father left the party. Secretly I believed he'd end up going back, that he couldn't possibly turn his back on the party.
But now I am seeing more people who have been committed to the party for a lifetime leaving, quietly, unobtrusively, sadly. I know of people who have been lifelong supporters and members, people who have been councillors for decades, people who have devoted a good portion of their lives to the party, simply slipping away.
These are not people who would make a fuss about it - they still have too much respect for what the party used to be to do that. But when we meet each other, then we can share our private grief. We can talk about what used to be, what we still believe, and what we wish would change.
And all this before the revelations on MPs expenses. That will drive people further away. Further away from all parties, but I can't help but feel that Labour will suffer most.
Because, regardless of the truth of the matter, many traditional Labour voters, people like me, would always have expected Tories to be out for themselves, out to get every penny out of us that they could. But not our MPs, not Labour people, surely? But their venality has been lain bare, the dramatic difference in lifestyle they demanded between how we live, and how they do. And they will suffer.
I feel sorry for the honest MPs out there, the ones who have only claimed what they must, those who claimed little. Those who didn't take advantage of the system, regardless of what the rules were. Because now they are tarred with the same brush. Already politicians were viewed as untrustworthy, and now they are viewed as greedy, venal, criminal. A plague on all their houses, primary and secondary.
And so, this is the final disconnect. A personal disconnect. One I have found very hard to write about. Because my party has betrayed me, in thoughts, in words, in deeds. And I have betrayed my party, in my mind if nowhere else yet.
I can't forgive the party. It remains to be seen if I can forgive myself.
Thursday 14 May 2009
Disconnection (Part 3)
The Labour Party was created to represent labour. It was set up to provide a way for the working class to have a voice in parliament. It was set up to enable the poor to find their own voice. It was set up to fight for the interests of the lowest in society against those who would seek to deny them.
Most importantly, it was set up because the slow increase in the franchise meant there was a large pool of voters who didn't feel they were being represented by the Tories or the Liberals. There had been attempts by the Liberals to position themselves as the natural party for these voters, but they were caught in a terrible position - their original supporters may have been sympathetic with the new voters, but they were pushed too far by a party seeking new votes, and began to fear socialism. At the same time, the restraining affect of these original supporters meant the party couldn't go far enough to capture the new votes. Ultimately, over a period of years, the Liberal Party collapsed.
This meant the Labour Party was the only voice of the left in British politics worthy of note. And over the decades they used this position to great effect. A dramatic increase in the welfare state, the creation of the NHS, the formation of the Open University, the liberalisation on many social issues, all of these came about with Labour.
They took their belief in a better society, a fairer society, a more equal society, and they worked damn hard to try and make it come about.
But there's no doubt that things got tougher for them. A period of economic difficulties, and yes, workplace agitation, set the scene for the Thatcher government that was to be so destructive and damaging to British society.
The failure of Labour to react effectively to the changing social climate, the failure to vocalise the anger and frustration so many were feeling, the failure, in fact, to represent the people it was set up to represent meant a series of humiliating and demoralising defeats.
And these defeats deeply affected the psyche of the party. They had seen a Tory government which gave every indication of being deeply unpopular beat them repeatedly. They began to wonder if there was any way they could win. They began to wonder if there was any hope left.
Which meant the party was only too happy to turn to someone who offered them victory, someone who told them they could gain power, someone who told them they would make it possible. The party was only too happy to give a little, to change a little, to compromise a little.
But doing that was the start of the disconnect of the party from the people they were supposed to be fighting for. The compromises, the steady compromises throughout the years, slowly moved the party further and further away from their original supporters. The party was desperately trying to grab and hold onto the voters of the middle, move to occupy that ground. But like the Liberals before them, doing that meant abandoning the people who used to vote for them, the people who used to be members.
Find yourself a member of the Labour Party. Ask them what they were most proud of the Labour government doing, and they'll likely answer "National Minimum Wage", or maybe "Sure Start".
Then ask them for something not done in the first term.
Labour's plan of triangulation, of moving towards the position of the Tories, of moving to the centre, has meant they have moved further and further away from the natural position of their traditional supporters. This was a deliberate and cynical plot, because the party machine knew that their traditional supporters had nowhere else to go.
And they were right. The traditional support didn't have anywhere to go. Turns out, they didn't even have to go to the polling station. They just stayed at home. Cue falling turnouts, politicians decrying voter apathy, and postal vote systems open to abuse.
But the disconnect between the Labour Party and their traditional support has continued. And this is a bad thing for all of us.
It was widely believed that the existence of the Soviet Union forced the capitalist countries to pay more attention to social inequality. Simply by existing as an alternative model to capitalism, communism forced western governments to keep the poorest in society provided for, looked after, treated with respect.
And I believe the same argument held for the Labour Party. Even when out of power, they were there as an alternative. It meant that, for example, the Tories never tried to privatise the NHS. They knew the howls of protest would lead to a Labour election victory.
Not true for New Labour, of course. There was no-one to the left of them who provided a credible electoral threat. So move on with bringing the private sector into the NHS! Call it reform, call it efficiency, call it 'what works', but let the private sector make a profit from the sick.
And move on with bringing the private sector into education. Call it reform, call it bringing in business talent, call it improvement, but let anyone with cash control what our kids are taught.
And move on with privatisation of air traffic control. Call it essential, call it bringing in fresh funds, call it being free from ideology, but let someone make money out of it.
I don't want this to turn into a litany of what I think the Labour Government has got wrong - though heaven knows I could go on about that for a long time. I am trying to show that there are things that they did which were dramatically against the natural instincts of their traditional support.
All of this created a disconnect between what the traditional support believed, and what the Labour Party did. For a while, this didn't matter to the party - they would still vote for Labour. But I believe we may be reaching an irreversible tipping point.
And it is this tipping point which I will talk about tomorrow.
Most importantly, it was set up because the slow increase in the franchise meant there was a large pool of voters who didn't feel they were being represented by the Tories or the Liberals. There had been attempts by the Liberals to position themselves as the natural party for these voters, but they were caught in a terrible position - their original supporters may have been sympathetic with the new voters, but they were pushed too far by a party seeking new votes, and began to fear socialism. At the same time, the restraining affect of these original supporters meant the party couldn't go far enough to capture the new votes. Ultimately, over a period of years, the Liberal Party collapsed.
This meant the Labour Party was the only voice of the left in British politics worthy of note. And over the decades they used this position to great effect. A dramatic increase in the welfare state, the creation of the NHS, the formation of the Open University, the liberalisation on many social issues, all of these came about with Labour.
They took their belief in a better society, a fairer society, a more equal society, and they worked damn hard to try and make it come about.
But there's no doubt that things got tougher for them. A period of economic difficulties, and yes, workplace agitation, set the scene for the Thatcher government that was to be so destructive and damaging to British society.
The failure of Labour to react effectively to the changing social climate, the failure to vocalise the anger and frustration so many were feeling, the failure, in fact, to represent the people it was set up to represent meant a series of humiliating and demoralising defeats.
And these defeats deeply affected the psyche of the party. They had seen a Tory government which gave every indication of being deeply unpopular beat them repeatedly. They began to wonder if there was any way they could win. They began to wonder if there was any hope left.
Which meant the party was only too happy to turn to someone who offered them victory, someone who told them they could gain power, someone who told them they would make it possible. The party was only too happy to give a little, to change a little, to compromise a little.
But doing that was the start of the disconnect of the party from the people they were supposed to be fighting for. The compromises, the steady compromises throughout the years, slowly moved the party further and further away from their original supporters. The party was desperately trying to grab and hold onto the voters of the middle, move to occupy that ground. But like the Liberals before them, doing that meant abandoning the people who used to vote for them, the people who used to be members.
Find yourself a member of the Labour Party. Ask them what they were most proud of the Labour government doing, and they'll likely answer "National Minimum Wage", or maybe "Sure Start".
Then ask them for something not done in the first term.
Labour's plan of triangulation, of moving towards the position of the Tories, of moving to the centre, has meant they have moved further and further away from the natural position of their traditional supporters. This was a deliberate and cynical plot, because the party machine knew that their traditional supporters had nowhere else to go.
And they were right. The traditional support didn't have anywhere to go. Turns out, they didn't even have to go to the polling station. They just stayed at home. Cue falling turnouts, politicians decrying voter apathy, and postal vote systems open to abuse.
But the disconnect between the Labour Party and their traditional support has continued. And this is a bad thing for all of us.
It was widely believed that the existence of the Soviet Union forced the capitalist countries to pay more attention to social inequality. Simply by existing as an alternative model to capitalism, communism forced western governments to keep the poorest in society provided for, looked after, treated with respect.
And I believe the same argument held for the Labour Party. Even when out of power, they were there as an alternative. It meant that, for example, the Tories never tried to privatise the NHS. They knew the howls of protest would lead to a Labour election victory.
Not true for New Labour, of course. There was no-one to the left of them who provided a credible electoral threat. So move on with bringing the private sector into the NHS! Call it reform, call it efficiency, call it 'what works', but let the private sector make a profit from the sick.
And move on with bringing the private sector into education. Call it reform, call it bringing in business talent, call it improvement, but let anyone with cash control what our kids are taught.
And move on with privatisation of air traffic control. Call it essential, call it bringing in fresh funds, call it being free from ideology, but let someone make money out of it.
I don't want this to turn into a litany of what I think the Labour Government has got wrong - though heaven knows I could go on about that for a long time. I am trying to show that there are things that they did which were dramatically against the natural instincts of their traditional support.
All of this created a disconnect between what the traditional support believed, and what the Labour Party did. For a while, this didn't matter to the party - they would still vote for Labour. But I believe we may be reaching an irreversible tipping point.
And it is this tipping point which I will talk about tomorrow.
Wednesday 13 May 2009
Disconnection (Part 2)
The biggest disconnect in our society now is surely the gaping chasm between the richest and the poorest. During the premiership of Margaret Thatcher, income inequality increased massively in the UK. The old post-war consensus was shattered, and the result was a society that went through dramatic upheavals and pain, in a way that is still seared onto the psyche of anyone who was around in that period.
And it is these upheavals that are important. Across countries, there is a broad correlation between higher levels of income inequality and higher levels of property crime, and murder. Societies which are more unequal are more dangerous.
I believe that what this shows is that these societies begin to fall apart, that different sections of that society become disconnected from each other. Because of this process, sections of society begin to psychologically and physically separate themselves. The poorest become chavs, the richest become fat cats, and both groups hold the other in contempt. In this way, the process accelerates.
So you would hope that a Labour government, one committed to reducing inequality, and producing a fairer society, would have begun the work of reversing the changes of the long Tory government of the 80s and 90s. But it turns out, they didn't. In fact, the levels of inequality got worse.
Income inequality is now greater than at any time since 1961.
Or, to put it another way, income inequality is at its highest level since records began.
So, society has become more unequal. Combined with this, it appears that social mobility, how easy it is for someone to rise up through society, or indeed to fall, hasn't changed since 1970. And this low level of social mobility is amongst the worst in any advanced nation.
If you're born poor, you're likely to stay poor. And with the income of the lowest 10% actually falling in real terms since 2005, you're likely to get poorer.
This can't be how we want our society to be, can it? Surely a world where the bottom 10% of society have an income of £147 a week, while the top 10% make do with £1,033 a week isn't right? When the poorest 20% see their income fall by 2.6% at the same time as the richest 20% see theirs rise by 3.3%, something must be wrong?
I'm sorry to step away from the gentle cultured arguments about the effect of economic strategies, to slip into the language of black and white, right and wrong. But this is a simple binary matter, it is a matter of right and wrong. There comes a point when the impact of the economic choices we make cease to be a matter for gentle discussion over brandy and cigars, and become a bigger issue, a more important issue. There comes a point where these decisions become moral decisions, because these arguments start to affect the very lives people get to live.
When the one of the best indicators of a child's future social position, wealth, educational attainment, health, longevity and is the amount of money their parents' earn, something is wrong.
Recently, Harriet Harman launched a new equalities bill. She said that as women in general lived longer than men, it showed something was wrong that the poorest women died earlier than the richest men - and so we had to work for equal pay across the genders. This is a laudable aim, but seems to be missing the point entirely - the problem is that you will die earlier if you are poor. The money you earn decides how long you will live.
Yes, this is the language of class warfare. But the casualties are all on one side.
(To be fair, also in this bill are proposals to impose on public authorities a duty to work to reduce class inequalities. But this will only affect public authorities, leaving the rest of society to get on with the work of increasing inequality. The measures are too weak, too little, and too late.)
And yet we all seem to try very hard not to acknowledge that, turning our heads, averting our gaze, closing our eyes. We want to believe that sop to middle class sensibilities that we live in a era of 'equality of opportunity', a meaningless phrase that the statistics on social mobility to be a lie. Some of us pretend we live in a meritocracy, but isn't it odd that merit seems to be hereditary?
We used to have a political party that would point this out. We used to have a party that wouldn't help everyone ignore the effects economic policy was having on the most vulnerable. We used to have a party that would have shouted from the rooftops about inequality rising to such obscene levels. We used to.
And that is the disconnect I want to talk about tomorrow.
And it is these upheavals that are important. Across countries, there is a broad correlation between higher levels of income inequality and higher levels of property crime, and murder. Societies which are more unequal are more dangerous.
I believe that what this shows is that these societies begin to fall apart, that different sections of that society become disconnected from each other. Because of this process, sections of society begin to psychologically and physically separate themselves. The poorest become chavs, the richest become fat cats, and both groups hold the other in contempt. In this way, the process accelerates.
So you would hope that a Labour government, one committed to reducing inequality, and producing a fairer society, would have begun the work of reversing the changes of the long Tory government of the 80s and 90s. But it turns out, they didn't. In fact, the levels of inequality got worse.
Income inequality is now greater than at any time since 1961.
Or, to put it another way, income inequality is at its highest level since records began.
So, society has become more unequal. Combined with this, it appears that social mobility, how easy it is for someone to rise up through society, or indeed to fall, hasn't changed since 1970. And this low level of social mobility is amongst the worst in any advanced nation.
If you're born poor, you're likely to stay poor. And with the income of the lowest 10% actually falling in real terms since 2005, you're likely to get poorer.
This can't be how we want our society to be, can it? Surely a world where the bottom 10% of society have an income of £147 a week, while the top 10% make do with £1,033 a week isn't right? When the poorest 20% see their income fall by 2.6% at the same time as the richest 20% see theirs rise by 3.3%, something must be wrong?
I'm sorry to step away from the gentle cultured arguments about the effect of economic strategies, to slip into the language of black and white, right and wrong. But this is a simple binary matter, it is a matter of right and wrong. There comes a point when the impact of the economic choices we make cease to be a matter for gentle discussion over brandy and cigars, and become a bigger issue, a more important issue. There comes a point where these decisions become moral decisions, because these arguments start to affect the very lives people get to live.
When the one of the best indicators of a child's future social position, wealth, educational attainment, health, longevity and is the amount of money their parents' earn, something is wrong.
Recently, Harriet Harman launched a new equalities bill. She said that as women in general lived longer than men, it showed something was wrong that the poorest women died earlier than the richest men - and so we had to work for equal pay across the genders. This is a laudable aim, but seems to be missing the point entirely - the problem is that you will die earlier if you are poor. The money you earn decides how long you will live.
Yes, this is the language of class warfare. But the casualties are all on one side.
(To be fair, also in this bill are proposals to impose on public authorities a duty to work to reduce class inequalities. But this will only affect public authorities, leaving the rest of society to get on with the work of increasing inequality. The measures are too weak, too little, and too late.)
And yet we all seem to try very hard not to acknowledge that, turning our heads, averting our gaze, closing our eyes. We want to believe that sop to middle class sensibilities that we live in a era of 'equality of opportunity', a meaningless phrase that the statistics on social mobility to be a lie. Some of us pretend we live in a meritocracy, but isn't it odd that merit seems to be hereditary?
We used to have a political party that would point this out. We used to have a party that wouldn't help everyone ignore the effects economic policy was having on the most vulnerable. We used to have a party that would have shouted from the rooftops about inequality rising to such obscene levels. We used to.
And that is the disconnect I want to talk about tomorrow.
Tuesday 12 May 2009
Disconnection (Part 1)
I'm worried. Worried about all of us, worried about the path we are on, worried about where we will end up. And I'm worried that no-one else seems to be worried.
Firstly, I'm worried about the police. The aftermath of the G20 riots has been raked over all over the media by now, but without seeming to get to the core of the problem.
It seems obvious by now that at least one police officer paid a contributory part in the death of Ian Tomlinson. Numerous others at best failed to prevent a criminal assault, and at worst were complicit in an attempt to hide it.
But focusing only on this one horrendous crime threatens to make us overlook the more widespread problems. I've already written about the threat to civil liberties in the UK that some police tactics have become.
When police are surveilling political protesters and journalists, using pychological warfare techniques on protesters, and recruiting informers in protest groups a reasonable person may begin to suspect they are going too far. But when police arrest over a hundred protesters before they protest it becomes clear they are.
And when the protesters are released without charge, but with excessive bail conditions, it becomes... worrying. (Interestingly, the bail conditions said those arrested couldn't communicate with each other, either directly or indirectly. Which their lawyers advised them meant they couldn't talk to the press about it, either, as that could count as indirect communication.)
But it's not just these techniques that are the problem, it's also the justifications that are rolled out by the talking heads of the police. As well as the touchstone claim of fighting terrorism, they talk about how this is just how policing should be, that they know best how to do the job, that we should just leave them to it.
And it is the point of view of view betrayed by this attitude, that the police are somehow apart from society, that is the real problem. Because when the police start to see themselves as separate from society, society starts to view the police the same way - as heavy-handed, as authoritarian, as the enemy.
That can't be good.
But the police are not alone in seeing themselves as somehow disconnected from the rest of society. There is another group that appears to see themselves as above it.
National politicians have given the impression of being aloof from society for what seems like a long time now. By its very nature, politics tends to be clannish, but that tendency appears to have grown in recent years to include politicians of all parties in one over-arching group, the Westminster Village if you like.
Part of this is natural. Parliament is an exclusive club, and members of it have much in common with each other. But the most insidious thing they have in common is that they, and they alone, have control over how much they are all paid. Recent revelations on expenses suggest their general opinion is it's not enough.
MPs have been wary of rousing public opinion by increasing their basic salary. But they have been more than happy to vote for more and more generous, and lax, expenses allocations. They have used this as a roundabout way of getting more money into their pockets.
This attitude seems to have led to our MPs viewing expenses as their right, as a system to be abused to increase their take home pay. They developed a profoundly different way of looking at their expenses system, at their pay, at their job than any of the rest of us are able to do with ours.
But it is not only in their venality that our politicians stand apart. There is often talk of a Westminster Village, of an insular grouping of politicians, excluding the rest of the world. But this is not just the natural process whereby members of a group begin to identify with the group first. Part of it is deliberate.
There has been a move over recent years, pushed by the public, to have full time politicians, people dedicated solely to Getting Things Done once elected, people who aren't distracted by anything else. Hence the attacks on MPs having second jobs, and so on. But the laudable aim of having committed politicians has had an undesirable side-effect.
Because when we start to demand politicians treat their work 'as a real job', well, they start to do so. They start to expect promotions, a clear career path. They start to turn the role into a profession. And the things with professions is that they are designed to exclude people who don't meet the entry requirements.
And so we get Special Advisers who rise to the highest ranks of government without ever having to step outside of the Westminster Village from the start of their career. We get career politicians, who start off working for a political party, then get put up in a nice safe seat, then settle down on the backbenches to wait for a call to some junior government post.
I've seen this happen in the Labour Party. There was much hard work done to professionalise the party machine, the central party itself. And, of course, once you have the professionals running the party, it's obvious that they know best what should be done. So take policy making away from the party members. Make the party conference an empty talking shop, stop it passing motions that you don't want. Control the party from the top - because the professionals are in charge, and they know what is best.
The obvious end result of this cronyism and insular attitude is typified by the current fuss over Georgia Gould. Just 22, she is the hot favourite to be selected in Erith and Thamesmead, a nice, safe Labour seat. Her qualifications for this role seems to be graduating from Oxford, and studying for a Masters at the LSE. And, of course, her experience gained from a part-time job for Tony Blair's Faith Foundation.
You may assume that for someone so young to get to work for the Faith Foundation, she must show some stellar ability. Possibly. I don't know the girl, I couldn't say. But some may suspect she landed the job because she is the daughter of Blair's old friend, and Labour Party pollster, Lord Gould.
Politics isn't about professionalism. This may seem heretical, but it isn't. Do I want the delivery of public policy to be professional? Absolutely - and that's precisely why we have a civil service. Their entire reason for existing is to provide a trained, educated, professional group of people to carry out whatever policies a government chooses. They need to be professional. Politicians need to be inspirational.
By demanding professionalism from our politicians, we've created a situation where they practically have to see themselves as apart from the rest of us. We have created the sense of disconnect between us and them. They are no longer the brightest and best of us, the people we want to represent us, to lead us. They are an external other, a group who imposes their will upon us, a group that seems more and more similar to each other, regardless of the party colours they wear.
The disconnect of politicians, and of police, from the rest of us are just two small examples of a fracturing society, though. There is a much bigger problem out there, one that affects us all. And that's what I'll talk about tomorrow.
Firstly, I'm worried about the police. The aftermath of the G20 riots has been raked over all over the media by now, but without seeming to get to the core of the problem.
It seems obvious by now that at least one police officer paid a contributory part in the death of Ian Tomlinson. Numerous others at best failed to prevent a criminal assault, and at worst were complicit in an attempt to hide it.
But focusing only on this one horrendous crime threatens to make us overlook the more widespread problems. I've already written about the threat to civil liberties in the UK that some police tactics have become.
When police are surveilling political protesters and journalists, using pychological warfare techniques on protesters, and recruiting informers in protest groups a reasonable person may begin to suspect they are going too far. But when police arrest over a hundred protesters before they protest it becomes clear they are.
And when the protesters are released without charge, but with excessive bail conditions, it becomes... worrying. (Interestingly, the bail conditions said those arrested couldn't communicate with each other, either directly or indirectly. Which their lawyers advised them meant they couldn't talk to the press about it, either, as that could count as indirect communication.)
But it's not just these techniques that are the problem, it's also the justifications that are rolled out by the talking heads of the police. As well as the touchstone claim of fighting terrorism, they talk about how this is just how policing should be, that they know best how to do the job, that we should just leave them to it.
And it is the point of view of view betrayed by this attitude, that the police are somehow apart from society, that is the real problem. Because when the police start to see themselves as separate from society, society starts to view the police the same way - as heavy-handed, as authoritarian, as the enemy.
That can't be good.
But the police are not alone in seeing themselves as somehow disconnected from the rest of society. There is another group that appears to see themselves as above it.
National politicians have given the impression of being aloof from society for what seems like a long time now. By its very nature, politics tends to be clannish, but that tendency appears to have grown in recent years to include politicians of all parties in one over-arching group, the Westminster Village if you like.
Part of this is natural. Parliament is an exclusive club, and members of it have much in common with each other. But the most insidious thing they have in common is that they, and they alone, have control over how much they are all paid. Recent revelations on expenses suggest their general opinion is it's not enough.
MPs have been wary of rousing public opinion by increasing their basic salary. But they have been more than happy to vote for more and more generous, and lax, expenses allocations. They have used this as a roundabout way of getting more money into their pockets.
This attitude seems to have led to our MPs viewing expenses as their right, as a system to be abused to increase their take home pay. They developed a profoundly different way of looking at their expenses system, at their pay, at their job than any of the rest of us are able to do with ours.
But it is not only in their venality that our politicians stand apart. There is often talk of a Westminster Village, of an insular grouping of politicians, excluding the rest of the world. But this is not just the natural process whereby members of a group begin to identify with the group first. Part of it is deliberate.
There has been a move over recent years, pushed by the public, to have full time politicians, people dedicated solely to Getting Things Done once elected, people who aren't distracted by anything else. Hence the attacks on MPs having second jobs, and so on. But the laudable aim of having committed politicians has had an undesirable side-effect.
Because when we start to demand politicians treat their work 'as a real job', well, they start to do so. They start to expect promotions, a clear career path. They start to turn the role into a profession. And the things with professions is that they are designed to exclude people who don't meet the entry requirements.
And so we get Special Advisers who rise to the highest ranks of government without ever having to step outside of the Westminster Village from the start of their career. We get career politicians, who start off working for a political party, then get put up in a nice safe seat, then settle down on the backbenches to wait for a call to some junior government post.
I've seen this happen in the Labour Party. There was much hard work done to professionalise the party machine, the central party itself. And, of course, once you have the professionals running the party, it's obvious that they know best what should be done. So take policy making away from the party members. Make the party conference an empty talking shop, stop it passing motions that you don't want. Control the party from the top - because the professionals are in charge, and they know what is best.
The obvious end result of this cronyism and insular attitude is typified by the current fuss over Georgia Gould. Just 22, she is the hot favourite to be selected in Erith and Thamesmead, a nice, safe Labour seat. Her qualifications for this role seems to be graduating from Oxford, and studying for a Masters at the LSE. And, of course, her experience gained from a part-time job for Tony Blair's Faith Foundation.
You may assume that for someone so young to get to work for the Faith Foundation, she must show some stellar ability. Possibly. I don't know the girl, I couldn't say. But some may suspect she landed the job because she is the daughter of Blair's old friend, and Labour Party pollster, Lord Gould.
Politics isn't about professionalism. This may seem heretical, but it isn't. Do I want the delivery of public policy to be professional? Absolutely - and that's precisely why we have a civil service. Their entire reason for existing is to provide a trained, educated, professional group of people to carry out whatever policies a government chooses. They need to be professional. Politicians need to be inspirational.
By demanding professionalism from our politicians, we've created a situation where they practically have to see themselves as apart from the rest of us. We have created the sense of disconnect between us and them. They are no longer the brightest and best of us, the people we want to represent us, to lead us. They are an external other, a group who imposes their will upon us, a group that seems more and more similar to each other, regardless of the party colours they wear.
The disconnect of politicians, and of police, from the rest of us are just two small examples of a fracturing society, though. There is a much bigger problem out there, one that affects us all. And that's what I'll talk about tomorrow.
Wednesday 29 April 2009
UAW union may take over Chrysler
I admit it, I find this both amusing and satisfying. My unreconstructed socialism coming out again, no doubt.
UAW union may take over Chrysler (from The Guardian).
UAW union may take over Chrysler (from The Guardian).
Sunday 5 April 2009
Anger and Apathy
So, then, the G20 summit has passed. Maybe it's saved the world, maybe it hasn't. I'm not going to pretend I can make an educated judgement about the likely success or otherwise of the new attempts to restart the global economy when even economists are holding their breaths. I don't know. I just don't know.
The other hot topic is the way police treated the demonstrators. There are questions to be answered about exactly what happened around the death of one man, Ian Tomlinson, especially as it looks like he wasn't even part of the demo, just someone trying to get home. The tactic of 'kettling' is coming under renewed scrutiny, as thousands were kept in one place for hours. And the behaviour of the police towards peaceful protests is causing concern, after allegations that the Climate Camp protest was violently broken up once the TV cameras had gone home.
(You know the police tactics and actions may have gone too far when The Times starts to question them.)
But that's not what I want to talk about today. There are no doubt thousands of shrill voices across the internet making their views felt on these issues, and I won't add my own to them.
No, instead I want to look at another side of it. It happened only slowly, as the news media started to get a little disappointed. Despite their dire predictions of mass riots in the capital, of a re-run of the Poll Tax riots, of the imminent collapse of Western society in an orgy or rage and violence, the protests themselves were rather quiet.
I mean, the police bottled up approximately 4,000 protesters right outside that symbol of the collapse of the banks, and the unrestrained greed that started it, and seems to continue still, RBS. And they broke 3 or 4 windows. A revolution, this was not.
And all told, we're looking at at most 30,000 protesters This was not the population taking to the streets. Now, I have no doubt that part of the reason for this is the dire predictions the media were making - surprisingly, when the media repeatedly refers to possible violent clashes, riots on the street, and such like, a lot of people won't go. The police must have been overjoyed at the scaremongering by the media.
But some commentators have been proudly claiming this shows that there just isn't that much anger out there, that we know it's tough for the government, but have faith they will do everything they can to get us out of this mess.
Part of me would really like to believe this.
But this doesn't match with what I'm coming across out there. I'm not seeing burning rage, certainly, but I am seeing a sullen resentment. I'm meeting people who are confused as to why we can't spend billions to fix the pensions hole in the Post Office, when we've spent far more than that on bailing out banks. They don't see why we're closing libraries when we're creating money to pour into the financial system. They don't understand why the same MPs demanding new financial prudence from banks are also claiming thousands for second homes.
They don't see why they are suffering when those at the top seem to be carrying on as usual.
And it doesn't take much to trigger them from resentment to anger. Just ask them about Labour - suddenly the rage is evident. Maybe it's worse because Labour is supposed to be the party that protects them. Maybe. Maybe it would be just as intense whoever was in power. Maybe.
Regardless, they're not going to vote Labour. All this talk about the polls turning round if we start to see signs of recovery, how the support for Cameron and the Tories is soft, how we can still make it, sounds more and more like wishful thinking.
And the reason is simple: I don't think the people I'm talking to actually think the Tories will do better. They don't think they'll do worse. They don't really think about that at all. No, the reason they will vote for the Tories is to punish Labour. And I don't think that desire to punish them will go away even if Gordon Brown does magically bring us to a land of milk and honey within a year.
Because, and this is where it links in with why people haven't been protesting, I think far, far too many people just think they can't have an effect. Nothing will change. As the old saying goes, it doesn't matter who you vote for, the government always gets in.
I think the perception, true or otherwise, that the three main parties are essentially saying the same thing with slightly different spins hasn't helped. People are beginning to think that voting doesn't really make a difference. So we have falling turnouts, attempts to shore up turnouts with postal voting (because we can't convince people to walk a few hundred yards down the street to vote), and the rise of smaller, more extreme parties - ones that at least offer something different.
But if you didn't think voting made a difference, there was always protest.
I remember, way back when, marching against going to war in Iraq. Maybe it's because I was young and idealistic, but I really thought we could make a difference. I looked around at the sea of people I was part of, stretching across Hyde Park, and I thought "Surely this means something? Surely no politician can just ignore this?".
Like I said, I was young and idealistic.
It wasn't just me. No matter whose particular estimate of numbers you want to go with, the two marches against the war that took place in London attracted huge numbers of people, a vast amount who believed that they really could make a difference, that they could make their voice heard, that their protest would have an effect in a democratic society.
But we all know how that story ended.
Now, I'm not saying that this means the UK isn't democratic - ultimately, MPs voted to go to war. It was a democratic decision, regardless of whether it was right or wrong.
But I am saying that decision had an effect on democracy. The marches were an incredible occurrence. A vast coalition of people from all walks of life came together to be heard. News reports described it as historic. Everyone seemed amazed at the size of these events.
And they failed. That's the important point - despite mobilising more people than anyone possibly imagined, they failed. Regardless of the rights and wrongs, regardless of whether it was democratic or not, millions of people were able to see on TV that protests didn't work.
So, when people think the parties are all the same, that protests are useless, what do you get? Apathy. Or at least it looks like apathy - people simply stop taking part. They make what seems a rational decision not to waste their time on something that will make no difference.
And that apparent apathy is what I think is the real threat, the real way that society can break down. People really are angry. Yes, they're keeping a lid on it (heavens, we are British, after all). But that doesn't change the fact that it is there.
Along with that anger, they feel powerless. They feel as if the people at the top will just keep on doing whatever they want, regardless of what everyone else wants them to do. They feel that voting makes no difference, that protesting makes no difference.
They feel they are ignored.
That's a dangerous combination. Anger, and powerlessness. Because as that anger grows - and it will, as the recession continues - as it grows, it has no way of being let out, no safety valve. Which means it builds up, until finally something, some spark, some event, something we can't predict, something happens that causes it to burst free.
What I worry about, what I'm scared of, is that we're not seeing a population happy to give the government the benefit of the doubt, but that instead, we're just seeing the calm before the storm.
That's what I'm scared of. I'm almost certain it won't happen. But that 'almost' is still scary.
The other hot topic is the way police treated the demonstrators. There are questions to be answered about exactly what happened around the death of one man, Ian Tomlinson, especially as it looks like he wasn't even part of the demo, just someone trying to get home. The tactic of 'kettling' is coming under renewed scrutiny, as thousands were kept in one place for hours. And the behaviour of the police towards peaceful protests is causing concern, after allegations that the Climate Camp protest was violently broken up once the TV cameras had gone home.
(You know the police tactics and actions may have gone too far when The Times starts to question them.)
But that's not what I want to talk about today. There are no doubt thousands of shrill voices across the internet making their views felt on these issues, and I won't add my own to them.
No, instead I want to look at another side of it. It happened only slowly, as the news media started to get a little disappointed. Despite their dire predictions of mass riots in the capital, of a re-run of the Poll Tax riots, of the imminent collapse of Western society in an orgy or rage and violence, the protests themselves were rather quiet.
I mean, the police bottled up approximately 4,000 protesters right outside that symbol of the collapse of the banks, and the unrestrained greed that started it, and seems to continue still, RBS. And they broke 3 or 4 windows. A revolution, this was not.
And all told, we're looking at at most 30,000 protesters This was not the population taking to the streets. Now, I have no doubt that part of the reason for this is the dire predictions the media were making - surprisingly, when the media repeatedly refers to possible violent clashes, riots on the street, and such like, a lot of people won't go. The police must have been overjoyed at the scaremongering by the media.
But some commentators have been proudly claiming this shows that there just isn't that much anger out there, that we know it's tough for the government, but have faith they will do everything they can to get us out of this mess.
Part of me would really like to believe this.
But this doesn't match with what I'm coming across out there. I'm not seeing burning rage, certainly, but I am seeing a sullen resentment. I'm meeting people who are confused as to why we can't spend billions to fix the pensions hole in the Post Office, when we've spent far more than that on bailing out banks. They don't see why we're closing libraries when we're creating money to pour into the financial system. They don't understand why the same MPs demanding new financial prudence from banks are also claiming thousands for second homes.
They don't see why they are suffering when those at the top seem to be carrying on as usual.
And it doesn't take much to trigger them from resentment to anger. Just ask them about Labour - suddenly the rage is evident. Maybe it's worse because Labour is supposed to be the party that protects them. Maybe. Maybe it would be just as intense whoever was in power. Maybe.
Regardless, they're not going to vote Labour. All this talk about the polls turning round if we start to see signs of recovery, how the support for Cameron and the Tories is soft, how we can still make it, sounds more and more like wishful thinking.
And the reason is simple: I don't think the people I'm talking to actually think the Tories will do better. They don't think they'll do worse. They don't really think about that at all. No, the reason they will vote for the Tories is to punish Labour. And I don't think that desire to punish them will go away even if Gordon Brown does magically bring us to a land of milk and honey within a year.
Because, and this is where it links in with why people haven't been protesting, I think far, far too many people just think they can't have an effect. Nothing will change. As the old saying goes, it doesn't matter who you vote for, the government always gets in.
I think the perception, true or otherwise, that the three main parties are essentially saying the same thing with slightly different spins hasn't helped. People are beginning to think that voting doesn't really make a difference. So we have falling turnouts, attempts to shore up turnouts with postal voting (because we can't convince people to walk a few hundred yards down the street to vote), and the rise of smaller, more extreme parties - ones that at least offer something different.
But if you didn't think voting made a difference, there was always protest.
I remember, way back when, marching against going to war in Iraq. Maybe it's because I was young and idealistic, but I really thought we could make a difference. I looked around at the sea of people I was part of, stretching across Hyde Park, and I thought "Surely this means something? Surely no politician can just ignore this?".
Like I said, I was young and idealistic.
It wasn't just me. No matter whose particular estimate of numbers you want to go with, the two marches against the war that took place in London attracted huge numbers of people, a vast amount who believed that they really could make a difference, that they could make their voice heard, that their protest would have an effect in a democratic society.
But we all know how that story ended.
Now, I'm not saying that this means the UK isn't democratic - ultimately, MPs voted to go to war. It was a democratic decision, regardless of whether it was right or wrong.
But I am saying that decision had an effect on democracy. The marches were an incredible occurrence. A vast coalition of people from all walks of life came together to be heard. News reports described it as historic. Everyone seemed amazed at the size of these events.
And they failed. That's the important point - despite mobilising more people than anyone possibly imagined, they failed. Regardless of the rights and wrongs, regardless of whether it was democratic or not, millions of people were able to see on TV that protests didn't work.
So, when people think the parties are all the same, that protests are useless, what do you get? Apathy. Or at least it looks like apathy - people simply stop taking part. They make what seems a rational decision not to waste their time on something that will make no difference.
And that apparent apathy is what I think is the real threat, the real way that society can break down. People really are angry. Yes, they're keeping a lid on it (heavens, we are British, after all). But that doesn't change the fact that it is there.
Along with that anger, they feel powerless. They feel as if the people at the top will just keep on doing whatever they want, regardless of what everyone else wants them to do. They feel that voting makes no difference, that protesting makes no difference.
They feel they are ignored.
That's a dangerous combination. Anger, and powerlessness. Because as that anger grows - and it will, as the recession continues - as it grows, it has no way of being let out, no safety valve. Which means it builds up, until finally something, some spark, some event, something we can't predict, something happens that causes it to burst free.
What I worry about, what I'm scared of, is that we're not seeing a population happy to give the government the benefit of the doubt, but that instead, we're just seeing the calm before the storm.
That's what I'm scared of. I'm almost certain it won't happen. But that 'almost' is still scary.
Monday 23 March 2009
Worrying about liberties
It's tough worrying about civil liberties in the UK.
Obviously it's a lot harder in other countries. I mean, worrying about civil liberties in Russia, where journalists are being murdered to shut them up, is a lot tougher, to say the least. Or in China, where those who complain are whisked away and imprisoned, never to be seen again.
Granted, it's not that tough. But it is kind of tough - because no-one needs to put pressure on you to be quiet. You feel it all on your own. You bite your own tongue. Or at least I do.
I mean, let's look at this sensibly. I see a report of behaviour by the state that seems to infringe civil liberties, such as the police surveilling political protesters and journalists, and I think to myself "This is terrible! They are treating people going about lawful activities, such as political protest, or reporting upon it, as potential criminals. Worse, they are being overt and aggressive in their filming, which surely can only be to try to intimidate the public."
Well, generally I don't think in quite such clearly defined sentence structure, but you get my point. On the whole, I think This Is A Bad Thing, and that Something Should Be Done.
But then some other thought processes kick in. Thought processes that are part of me because I am a polite, middle-class Englishman. Those thought processes which instinctively try to damp down rebellious instincts.
For example, I think to myself "Well, these police officers are just doing their jobs. They don't get to choose whether they follow their superior's instructions or not." And I think "After all, they're not doing anything illegal - I mean, taking photographs in a public place is perfectly allowed, and something I should be glad about." And I think "Surely they wouldn't be doing this if they didn't have a good reason? Maybe there really are ne'er-do-wells in these groups, people we should be keeping an eye on."
And by these steps, I start to dampen down my initial outrage, blanketing it in a cloak of possible justifications, or polite evasions of the unpleasant reality. All I am left with is a sense of disquiet at the events, a slight sense of disappointment in myself, and a rather bitter taste in the back of my mouth.
But, of course, that sense of disquiet never quite goes away. It lingers.
Which means that when I hear of another event, such as the police using 'psychological operations' against protesters it becomes that little bit harder to deaden the outrage. The disquiet grows that little bit greater.
This is all very odd for me. Because, well, how can I really worry about civil liberties in the UK? It's far too embarrassing. I mean, this is England, for heaven's sake. We have a long tradition of enlightenment about rights. Don't we? Surely I'm being foolish for worrying.
And I desperately want to believe that. I want to believe that the good old fashioned sense of British fair play will stop all these attacks on liberty. I want to believe that there is no chance a government could get in which would use all these new laws brought in to 'fight terror' to fight whoever opposes them.
I want to believe it, but I'd be foolish indeed to do so.
The UK isn't somehow immune from oppression. Bad people have used bad laws to silence their critics before. Hell, good people who passionately believed something we now think is abhorrent used bad laws to silence their critics. Unions were put down. Workers were abused. Millions were denied the vote, and threatened with violence for demanding it.
My golden vision of a UK filled with fair play is concocted from films and books that ignore those who weren't the right sort. I think of good, upright English chaps, doing the right thing because it is the right thing. But this sort of cosy image was pushed by an Establishment already fighting a losing battle - so they project an image of their sort as the right sort, who can always be trusted to act in the best interests of all of us.
Because that's the thing - I don't think Labour are really trying to put in place all the tools an oppressive government would need. I don't even think the Tories would do much different. They're just politicians, making the best decisions they can, given the information and guidance they are offered.
And the guidance they are offered comes from a group who are part of what we nebulously call the Establishment. High up civil servants, advisers, career politicians, they all end up working to maintain their control over the country, over society. Oh, not because they're a comic book evil villain, scheming to subjugate us all. No, because they really believe they know best how to run the country, how to make sure we all benefit in some way.
But this is where they're wrong. We live in a democracy - imperfect and flawed in many ways, yes, but one in which each of us has at least some say in the way our country is run. And over the years, we have become more sophisticated, more knowledgeable, we have learned more. We have earned the right to be trusted to make decisions for ourselves.
Which means that, actually, they don't have the right to keep tabs on us for our political activity. They don't get to tell us inquests can be held in secret, because a minister or a judge says so. They don't get to tell us we have to tell them before we travel abroad. They don't get to tell us we have to give them all the information on us they want, forever, and to buy a card confirming it. They don't get to decide what is best for us.
There never was a golden age of liberty in the UK. Things have often been worse than now, but it wasn't that long ago that they were better, either. So let's work to try and make some more progress, let's work to keep traveling along the road towards greater freedom, greater liberty. Let's stop trying to justify the actions of the state for them, imagine ways in which what they are doing could be right.
In my case, let's stop being quite so... British about it.
Obviously it's a lot harder in other countries. I mean, worrying about civil liberties in Russia, where journalists are being murdered to shut them up, is a lot tougher, to say the least. Or in China, where those who complain are whisked away and imprisoned, never to be seen again.
Granted, it's not that tough. But it is kind of tough - because no-one needs to put pressure on you to be quiet. You feel it all on your own. You bite your own tongue. Or at least I do.
I mean, let's look at this sensibly. I see a report of behaviour by the state that seems to infringe civil liberties, such as the police surveilling political protesters and journalists, and I think to myself "This is terrible! They are treating people going about lawful activities, such as political protest, or reporting upon it, as potential criminals. Worse, they are being overt and aggressive in their filming, which surely can only be to try to intimidate the public."
Well, generally I don't think in quite such clearly defined sentence structure, but you get my point. On the whole, I think This Is A Bad Thing, and that Something Should Be Done.
But then some other thought processes kick in. Thought processes that are part of me because I am a polite, middle-class Englishman. Those thought processes which instinctively try to damp down rebellious instincts.
For example, I think to myself "Well, these police officers are just doing their jobs. They don't get to choose whether they follow their superior's instructions or not." And I think "After all, they're not doing anything illegal - I mean, taking photographs in a public place is perfectly allowed, and something I should be glad about." And I think "Surely they wouldn't be doing this if they didn't have a good reason? Maybe there really are ne'er-do-wells in these groups, people we should be keeping an eye on."
And by these steps, I start to dampen down my initial outrage, blanketing it in a cloak of possible justifications, or polite evasions of the unpleasant reality. All I am left with is a sense of disquiet at the events, a slight sense of disappointment in myself, and a rather bitter taste in the back of my mouth.
But, of course, that sense of disquiet never quite goes away. It lingers.
Which means that when I hear of another event, such as the police using 'psychological operations' against protesters it becomes that little bit harder to deaden the outrage. The disquiet grows that little bit greater.
This is all very odd for me. Because, well, how can I really worry about civil liberties in the UK? It's far too embarrassing. I mean, this is England, for heaven's sake. We have a long tradition of enlightenment about rights. Don't we? Surely I'm being foolish for worrying.
And I desperately want to believe that. I want to believe that the good old fashioned sense of British fair play will stop all these attacks on liberty. I want to believe that there is no chance a government could get in which would use all these new laws brought in to 'fight terror' to fight whoever opposes them.
I want to believe it, but I'd be foolish indeed to do so.
The UK isn't somehow immune from oppression. Bad people have used bad laws to silence their critics before. Hell, good people who passionately believed something we now think is abhorrent used bad laws to silence their critics. Unions were put down. Workers were abused. Millions were denied the vote, and threatened with violence for demanding it.
My golden vision of a UK filled with fair play is concocted from films and books that ignore those who weren't the right sort. I think of good, upright English chaps, doing the right thing because it is the right thing. But this sort of cosy image was pushed by an Establishment already fighting a losing battle - so they project an image of their sort as the right sort, who can always be trusted to act in the best interests of all of us.
Because that's the thing - I don't think Labour are really trying to put in place all the tools an oppressive government would need. I don't even think the Tories would do much different. They're just politicians, making the best decisions they can, given the information and guidance they are offered.
And the guidance they are offered comes from a group who are part of what we nebulously call the Establishment. High up civil servants, advisers, career politicians, they all end up working to maintain their control over the country, over society. Oh, not because they're a comic book evil villain, scheming to subjugate us all. No, because they really believe they know best how to run the country, how to make sure we all benefit in some way.
But this is where they're wrong. We live in a democracy - imperfect and flawed in many ways, yes, but one in which each of us has at least some say in the way our country is run. And over the years, we have become more sophisticated, more knowledgeable, we have learned more. We have earned the right to be trusted to make decisions for ourselves.
Which means that, actually, they don't have the right to keep tabs on us for our political activity. They don't get to tell us inquests can be held in secret, because a minister or a judge says so. They don't get to tell us we have to tell them before we travel abroad. They don't get to tell us we have to give them all the information on us they want, forever, and to buy a card confirming it. They don't get to decide what is best for us.
There never was a golden age of liberty in the UK. Things have often been worse than now, but it wasn't that long ago that they were better, either. So let's work to try and make some more progress, let's work to keep traveling along the road towards greater freedom, greater liberty. Let's stop trying to justify the actions of the state for them, imagine ways in which what they are doing could be right.
In my case, let's stop being quite so... British about it.
Tuesday 17 March 2009
What a headline
From The Times: Prince Charles warns that Britain faces dementia catastrophe. Insert your own joke about the heir to the throne here.
Monday 16 February 2009
Outliers, by Malcolm Gladwell
Something a little different this weekend: I've just read the new book by Malcolm Gladwell, he of Tipping Point fame (The Tipping Point: How Little Things Can Make a Big Difference). The book, Outliers: The Story of Success tells the stories of the people many would call geniuses, those who have been remarkable in some way.
And oddly, I think the book actually has a few lessons for the left in there too.
Outliers is a fascinating book. Malcolm Gladwell looks at successful people, and how they got there, in an interesting way. Some of the conclusions are perhaps what we have suspected, but he has done the legwork to find the data that backs it up. I really do recommend you take a look at it.
Many of us look at successful people, in whatever field, and assume that they must have a gift, that there is something about them which is special. Gladwell, however, has examined these people, to try and find what connects them all, what they have each done to get to where they are.
And what is this magic ingredient? What is this special something that connects all these people?
10,000 hours.
Yes, the first answer is 10,000 hours. 10,000 hours of work and practice. 10,000 hours, day after day, month after month, year after year, of sheer effort on whatever it is they are now successful in. The figures seem to hold for everything from music, to law, to ice hockey. People start to get good, really good, when they have spent 10,000 hours doing what they do.
Now, this isn't really that surprising an answer. It may be a little disappointing, but it's not surprising. It's disappointing because all of us secretly would like to think that the people who are successful are somehow gifted - that their success has literally been given to them. But it turns out that successful people really aren't that different than the rest of us.
Sure, you need a certain base level of intelligence, or a little bit of skill, but then it is is the amount of effort that is put in that effects how successful you are.
Well, mostly, anyway.
Because that brings us to the second answer, the second reason some people are successful and others aren't. And that is the environment they were surrounded by, mainly as children.
Why did Bill Gates get to be the richest man in the world, and the most successful nerd ever? Is it because of a special genius? No, not particularly - not to see he isn't a genius, but that's no guarantee of success.
Is it the amount of work he put in? Well, yes - he began writing software code as a schoolboy, and continued to do so, religiously, fanatically, throughout his adolescence, and beyond.
But Gates also got to be successful because he was one of the first few people to have the opportunity to do this. His school was unique in having access to a computer at a time when they took up a room and cost millions. He was able to continue coding, in a series of odd events, throughout his adolescence. He was able to get his 10,000 hours in early, before others were able to. And it was this that left him in a perfect position to take advantage of the personal computer boom of the 70s and 80s.
So what's the lesson for the left?
The mantra of this government when it comes to education, and indeed to society, has been that equality of outcome was a perverse and wrong thing to aim for. Instead, it was fairer to offer equality of opportunity.
But this book shows us, through various examples, that we simply don't all get an equal chance. Opportunities are always going to unevenly spread. On the whole, this is unavoidable - the book shows through some remarkable examples that sometimes we can't even tell what will turn out to be an opportunity, or an advantage, until long after the time.
Importantly, though, the book does look specifically at education, and the achievements of children from richer and poorer backgrounds. There has long been a difference in educational achievement between rich and poor. But through the examination of test results, we can see it doesn't have to be this way, or at least the difference can be substantially reduced.
It turns out that poorer children get at least as much benefit out of education as richer. Tracking the test scores from the beginning of the school year to the end, the improvements are pretty much uniform.
But where the differences really start to show is testing from the end of one school year to the start of the next. Poorer kids stay at the same level, or even fall back slightly - they have (not unreasonably...) spent the summer playing games, having fun, and building those memories of long hot summers that seemed to go on for ever.
The richer kids, however, have continued to move forward. The environment they are in at home is one that is conducive to learning - their parents push them to learn, or they are surrounded by books, or whatever. They keep learning, and being educated, in their own time.
Now, this isn't much of a difference over one summer, but over all the summers of a child's school lifetime, it really mounts up.
So the obvious answer, if we want to reduce the difference that the financial background of a child's parents makes to their educational achievement, is to provide children with an environment that consistently enables them to learn. Having a long break in the school year, not surprisingly, stops poorer children learning.
So why not get rid of it? If we're really serious about enabling opportunity for all, why are we holding onto a summer holiday that enables children to take part in a harvest? We are no longer an agriculture based society. We are an urban society, who need to be based primarily around knowledge industries. So let's stop making kids take a break from gaining knowledge every year.
So yes, I rather liked this book. Outliers: The Story of Success is on Amazon, or you could, you know, actually go to a local bookshop.
And oddly, I think the book actually has a few lessons for the left in there too.
Outliers is a fascinating book. Malcolm Gladwell looks at successful people, and how they got there, in an interesting way. Some of the conclusions are perhaps what we have suspected, but he has done the legwork to find the data that backs it up. I really do recommend you take a look at it.
Many of us look at successful people, in whatever field, and assume that they must have a gift, that there is something about them which is special. Gladwell, however, has examined these people, to try and find what connects them all, what they have each done to get to where they are.
And what is this magic ingredient? What is this special something that connects all these people?
10,000 hours.
Yes, the first answer is 10,000 hours. 10,000 hours of work and practice. 10,000 hours, day after day, month after month, year after year, of sheer effort on whatever it is they are now successful in. The figures seem to hold for everything from music, to law, to ice hockey. People start to get good, really good, when they have spent 10,000 hours doing what they do.
Now, this isn't really that surprising an answer. It may be a little disappointing, but it's not surprising. It's disappointing because all of us secretly would like to think that the people who are successful are somehow gifted - that their success has literally been given to them. But it turns out that successful people really aren't that different than the rest of us.
Sure, you need a certain base level of intelligence, or a little bit of skill, but then it is is the amount of effort that is put in that effects how successful you are.
Well, mostly, anyway.
Because that brings us to the second answer, the second reason some people are successful and others aren't. And that is the environment they were surrounded by, mainly as children.
Why did Bill Gates get to be the richest man in the world, and the most successful nerd ever? Is it because of a special genius? No, not particularly - not to see he isn't a genius, but that's no guarantee of success.
Is it the amount of work he put in? Well, yes - he began writing software code as a schoolboy, and continued to do so, religiously, fanatically, throughout his adolescence, and beyond.
But Gates also got to be successful because he was one of the first few people to have the opportunity to do this. His school was unique in having access to a computer at a time when they took up a room and cost millions. He was able to continue coding, in a series of odd events, throughout his adolescence. He was able to get his 10,000 hours in early, before others were able to. And it was this that left him in a perfect position to take advantage of the personal computer boom of the 70s and 80s.
So what's the lesson for the left?
The mantra of this government when it comes to education, and indeed to society, has been that equality of outcome was a perverse and wrong thing to aim for. Instead, it was fairer to offer equality of opportunity.
But this book shows us, through various examples, that we simply don't all get an equal chance. Opportunities are always going to unevenly spread. On the whole, this is unavoidable - the book shows through some remarkable examples that sometimes we can't even tell what will turn out to be an opportunity, or an advantage, until long after the time.
Importantly, though, the book does look specifically at education, and the achievements of children from richer and poorer backgrounds. There has long been a difference in educational achievement between rich and poor. But through the examination of test results, we can see it doesn't have to be this way, or at least the difference can be substantially reduced.
It turns out that poorer children get at least as much benefit out of education as richer. Tracking the test scores from the beginning of the school year to the end, the improvements are pretty much uniform.
But where the differences really start to show is testing from the end of one school year to the start of the next. Poorer kids stay at the same level, or even fall back slightly - they have (not unreasonably...) spent the summer playing games, having fun, and building those memories of long hot summers that seemed to go on for ever.
The richer kids, however, have continued to move forward. The environment they are in at home is one that is conducive to learning - their parents push them to learn, or they are surrounded by books, or whatever. They keep learning, and being educated, in their own time.
Now, this isn't much of a difference over one summer, but over all the summers of a child's school lifetime, it really mounts up.
So the obvious answer, if we want to reduce the difference that the financial background of a child's parents makes to their educational achievement, is to provide children with an environment that consistently enables them to learn. Having a long break in the school year, not surprisingly, stops poorer children learning.
So why not get rid of it? If we're really serious about enabling opportunity for all, why are we holding onto a summer holiday that enables children to take part in a harvest? We are no longer an agriculture based society. We are an urban society, who need to be based primarily around knowledge industries. So let's stop making kids take a break from gaining knowledge every year.
So yes, I rather liked this book. Outliers: The Story of Success is on Amazon, or you could, you know, actually go to a local bookshop.
Friday 13 February 2009
Disappointing headline
In a brief update to Sunday's post on torture and Binyam Mohamed, we have the contender for most disappointingly misleading headline: This appeared in my news feed as Ministers face torture questioning. Interesting idea for how select committees could get more information from the government...
Monday 9 February 2009
On Crossing The Line
I want to talk about a news story regarding the construction of a database to store the details of all passenger movements in and out of the UK. Every time you go abroad, your name, address, telephone number, travel itinerary, etc. will be collected. The data will be stored for up to 10 years.
As the Times report says:
I am continually amazed at the lengths the government goes to to gather ever more information about what we get up to. I am also amazed at the lengths they will go to to not tell us what they are up to.
Just like the issue yesterday, this is a question of balance - what are we prepared to give up for what gain?
The travel database tells us that, in the opinion of the government, we are prepared to give up our privacy with regards to where and when and with whom we travel, because in return we gain a tool we are told will assist in the fight against various forms of criminality.
Have we got the balance right here? As I said yesterday:
In addition to this, at least for me, the ability to raise public grievances should be added - without the ability for the general population to agitate, protest, and complain, Parliament's right to "inquire into, and obtain redress of" public grievances becomes pointless.
I am not arguing that the travel database in and of itself damages the ability of the populus to protest. However, I would argue that it is another symptom of the growing tendency of government to see the population as a many numbered beast to be monitored, catalogued, observed and controlled. Taken in conjunction with the (to be charitable) unintended effects of some laws, a lack of effective redress against the police when they overstep their bounds, and mass surveillance that "risks undermining the fundamental relationship between the state and citizens", I believe it does have the effect of further dissuading people from protesting in a state with a steadily increasing and pervasive surveillance culture.
So have we, and has the government, got the balance right?
In the case of the various databases and monitoring of the population, we appear to have crossed a threshold, one which has a bearing on the relationship between the citizen and the Executive (the government of a State). The Executive has an obvious need and right to gather information to carry out services for the people of that state. This includes, to an extent, the gathering of information to fight crime. However, the unwilling and automatic gathering of data (as opposed to that handed over willingly, such as for the receipt of services) for the purposes of crime prevention or detection should be kept to a minimum.
Is it not better to require there to be suspicion of criminality before data can be gathered this way? Consider it as analogous to a system of requiring warrants for searches and communication intercepts. A reasonable level of suspicion (this level would obviously vary depending on the data that is being sought) must surely be reached before data is taken without agreement? Instead, we have a system where all must provide information, either as a consequence of wishing to pursue a lawful act, or by inappropriately sharing data provided for one purpose (such as receiving a service) without consent.
This is purely a land-grab for data. And once your personal data is in the hands of others, you cease to have control over what use it is put to - now, and in the future.
Because you need to be happy not only to have the current government have this information about you, about what you do, where you live, who you travel with, but also to be happy to have every possible government afterwards holding this data about you.
And I'm just not that trusting.
As the Times report says:
Some immigration officials with knowledge of the plans admit there is likely to be public concern. “A lot of this stuff will have a legitimate use in the fight against crime and terrorism, but it’s what else it could be used for that presents a problem,” said one.
“It will be able to detect whether parents are taking their children abroad during school holidays. It could be useful to the tax authorities because it will tell them how long non-UK domiciled people are spending in the UK.”
I am continually amazed at the lengths the government goes to to gather ever more information about what we get up to. I am also amazed at the lengths they will go to to not tell us what they are up to.
Just like the issue yesterday, this is a question of balance - what are we prepared to give up for what gain?
The travel database tells us that, in the opinion of the government, we are prepared to give up our privacy with regards to where and when and with whom we travel, because in return we gain a tool we are told will assist in the fight against various forms of criminality.
Have we got the balance right here? As I said yesterday:
The question is not an idle one. If we or the government have got the balance wrong, ultimately our society will suffer. The judges in the Binyam Mohamed case quoted Henry Hallam:“Civil liberty in this kingdom has two direct guarantees; the open administration of justice according to known laws truly interpreted, and fair constructions of evidence; and the right of Parliament, without let or interruption, to inquire into, and obtain redress of, public grievances. Of these, the first is by far the most indispensable; nor can the subjects of any State be reckoned to enjoy a real freedom, where this condition is not found both in its judicial institutions and in their constant exercise.”
In addition to this, at least for me, the ability to raise public grievances should be added - without the ability for the general population to agitate, protest, and complain, Parliament's right to "inquire into, and obtain redress of" public grievances becomes pointless.
I am not arguing that the travel database in and of itself damages the ability of the populus to protest. However, I would argue that it is another symptom of the growing tendency of government to see the population as a many numbered beast to be monitored, catalogued, observed and controlled. Taken in conjunction with the (to be charitable) unintended effects of some laws, a lack of effective redress against the police when they overstep their bounds, and mass surveillance that "risks undermining the fundamental relationship between the state and citizens", I believe it does have the effect of further dissuading people from protesting in a state with a steadily increasing and pervasive surveillance culture.
So have we, and has the government, got the balance right?
In the case of the various databases and monitoring of the population, we appear to have crossed a threshold, one which has a bearing on the relationship between the citizen and the Executive (the government of a State). The Executive has an obvious need and right to gather information to carry out services for the people of that state. This includes, to an extent, the gathering of information to fight crime. However, the unwilling and automatic gathering of data (as opposed to that handed over willingly, such as for the receipt of services) for the purposes of crime prevention or detection should be kept to a minimum.
Is it not better to require there to be suspicion of criminality before data can be gathered this way? Consider it as analogous to a system of requiring warrants for searches and communication intercepts. A reasonable level of suspicion (this level would obviously vary depending on the data that is being sought) must surely be reached before data is taken without agreement? Instead, we have a system where all must provide information, either as a consequence of wishing to pursue a lawful act, or by inappropriately sharing data provided for one purpose (such as receiving a service) without consent.
This is purely a land-grab for data. And once your personal data is in the hands of others, you cease to have control over what use it is put to - now, and in the future.
Because you need to be happy not only to have the current government have this information about you, about what you do, where you live, who you travel with, but also to be happy to have every possible government afterwards holding this data about you.
And I'm just not that trusting.
Sunday 8 February 2009
Torture, Openness, and Balancing Acts
This weekend I want to talk about the furore surrounding the treatment of Binyam Mohamed.
Binyam Mohamed is an Ethiopian-born UK resident. In 1994, aged 15, he came to the UK with his father, who was seeking asylum. After obtaining five GCSEs and an engineering diploma at the City of Westminster College in Paddington, he decided to stay in Britain when his father returned, and was given indefinite leave to remain. He lived in the UK for seven years, during which time he converted to Islam. He travelled to Afghanistan, via Pakistan, in June 2001. He returned to Pakistan sometime after 9/11.
In April 2002, he was arrested at Karachi airport. He was attempting to fly to Zurich, but was not using his own passport.
What happened next is murky. Binyam alleges he was held at two prisons in Pakistan over three months, where he was hung from leather straps, beaten, and threatened with a gun. He further alleges that he was questioned by men he believed to be FBI agents. The torture stopped after he was visited by two Britons, who he believes were MI6 officers. Instead, he was told he was to be tortured by Arabs.
Binyam alleges he was flown in a US aircraft to Morocco, and taken to a jail near Rabat. Here, he says he was tortured for the next 18 months. 18 months of beatings, noise, being slashed with scalpels in his chest and genitals. During this time, he was accused of being an al-Qaida terrorist. Binyam denies the allegations, but he does say he would say anything to try and get the torture to stop. He signed a statement about a dirty bomb plot.
Binyam says that after this 18 months in Morocco, he was flown back to Afghanistan, escorted by masked US soldiers who seemed shocked by his physical condition. When he arrived back in Afghanistan, he says he was kept in a darkened cell in Kabul, chained up, and subjected to loud music for 5 months, while being questioned by Americans. Only after this time was he moved to the Bagram air base, and shown to the Red Cross. Four months later, he was in Guantanamo.
More than a year later, over three and a half years since he was arrested, Binyam was charged with a crime.
On 28th July 2008, an attempt to make the facts clearer, for use in his defence in the US Military Tribunal, was made by Binyam's UK lawyers, who filed a petition that the Foreign Office should be compelled to turn over the evidence of Binyam's abuse. The judges agreed, saying the information was "not only necessary but essential for his defence". The classified US documents were turned over to Binyam's US counsel, for use in his attempts to be set free.
Soon afterwards, all charges against Binyam were dropped, "without prejudice". His lawyers were told new charges would be forthcoming. None have done so.
The question that the UK judges were now asked to look at was if there was a public interest in allowing the publication of seven paragraphs in their original judgement, in which they "provided a summary of reports by the United States Government to the [Security Service] and the Secret Intelligence Service (SIS) on the circumstances of [Binyam Mohamed]’s incommunicado and unlawful detention in Pakistan and of the treatment accorded to him by or on behalf of the United States Government as referred to in paragraph 87(iv) of our judgment." Essentially, these paragraphs are believed to say what the UK government knew about Binyam's treatment, and when - did they know he had been tortured? Were they complicit?
The Foreign Secretary blocked them being made public. The government argued that the US had threatened to suspend intelligence cooperation with the UK if the paragraphs were released, and therefore national security required them to remain secret.
As with all cases of national security, this is a balancing act. We have to decide what we are prepared to give up on the one hand, in return for something else on the other.
The case of Binyam Mohamed tells us that, in the opinion of the government, we must give up a desire to examine what has been done, with the knowledge and complicity of the UK government, to one man, because in return we gain, or retain, the benefit of intelligence sharing, and therefore enhanced security for us all.
The question for me, is whether the opinion of the government is right - have they got the balance right? Have we got the balance right?
The question is not an idle one. If we or the government have got the balance wrong, ultimately our society will suffer. The judges in the Binyam Mohamed case quoted Henry Hallam:
So have we, and has the government, got the balance right?
I'd argue we haven't.
As the judges said in their ruling, "[i]t is a novel issue which requires balancing the public interest in national security and the public interest in open justice, the rule of law and democratic accountability."
Binyam's lawyers argued that there was an absolute bar to granting a public interest immunity in the release of information pertaining to Binyam's alleged torture:
The judges rejected this argument, because a public interest immunity certificate is there to protect the interests of the entire state, whereas the claim of criminality is against the Executive of the State - the government. In which case, they judged, it may still be in the public interest to block publication of information pertaining to an illegal act by the Executive, if to release that information would damage the interests of the wider State.
Essentially, because bad things could happen to the population, or their interests, it should be possible for the government to stop the release of information showing they or their agents acted in an illegal manner.
In this case, the 'bad thing' would be the reduction in intelligence sharing by the US, and thus placing the UK at greater risk of a successful attack. This is the crucial claim on which the whole judgement pivots. And, importantly, what is in the interests of national security is decided only by the Executive, by the Foreign Secretary, not by the judges.
This is where I think the balance is wrong. While I am sure the judges have made a sound judgement in law, I disagree about the protection of the State. It is incredibly damaging to the State as a whole to allow an Executive to get away with a criminal act, especially an act of the seriousness of torture. It is damaging to allow the suspicion that the Executive is getting away with a criminal act to linger. It is, in my opinion, more damaging to the State than the possible risks caused by the damaging of national security.
For that reason, I would argue that allowing the nebulous argument of national security to trump that of open justice in fact damages the State, and in a pervasive and insidious manner. In the balancing act between potential physical harm, and actual harm to society's accepted mores of justice, the judges have got it legally right, and morally wrong.
However, judges are not there to make the laws we want. That is what Parliament is for. That means we need to make Parliament bring government to account, if necessary by placing an absolute bar to public interest immunity being used in cases of allegations of serious criminality by the government. And if that is what we want Parliament to do, that is what we must make the Members of Parliament to do, by making the matter a "public grievance", and holding them to account over it.
Because sometimes we need our government to do the right thing, regardless of the cost.
(I encourage you all to have a look at the Binyam Mohamed ruling. It is fascinating, and illustrates the balancing act the judges have had to try and decide on.)
Binyam Mohamed is an Ethiopian-born UK resident. In 1994, aged 15, he came to the UK with his father, who was seeking asylum. After obtaining five GCSEs and an engineering diploma at the City of Westminster College in Paddington, he decided to stay in Britain when his father returned, and was given indefinite leave to remain. He lived in the UK for seven years, during which time he converted to Islam. He travelled to Afghanistan, via Pakistan, in June 2001. He returned to Pakistan sometime after 9/11.
In April 2002, he was arrested at Karachi airport. He was attempting to fly to Zurich, but was not using his own passport.
What happened next is murky. Binyam alleges he was held at two prisons in Pakistan over three months, where he was hung from leather straps, beaten, and threatened with a gun. He further alleges that he was questioned by men he believed to be FBI agents. The torture stopped after he was visited by two Britons, who he believes were MI6 officers. Instead, he was told he was to be tortured by Arabs.
Binyam alleges he was flown in a US aircraft to Morocco, and taken to a jail near Rabat. Here, he says he was tortured for the next 18 months. 18 months of beatings, noise, being slashed with scalpels in his chest and genitals. During this time, he was accused of being an al-Qaida terrorist. Binyam denies the allegations, but he does say he would say anything to try and get the torture to stop. He signed a statement about a dirty bomb plot.
Binyam says that after this 18 months in Morocco, he was flown back to Afghanistan, escorted by masked US soldiers who seemed shocked by his physical condition. When he arrived back in Afghanistan, he says he was kept in a darkened cell in Kabul, chained up, and subjected to loud music for 5 months, while being questioned by Americans. Only after this time was he moved to the Bagram air base, and shown to the Red Cross. Four months later, he was in Guantanamo.
More than a year later, over three and a half years since he was arrested, Binyam was charged with a crime.
On 28th July 2008, an attempt to make the facts clearer, for use in his defence in the US Military Tribunal, was made by Binyam's UK lawyers, who filed a petition that the Foreign Office should be compelled to turn over the evidence of Binyam's abuse. The judges agreed, saying the information was "not only necessary but essential for his defence". The classified US documents were turned over to Binyam's US counsel, for use in his attempts to be set free.
Soon afterwards, all charges against Binyam were dropped, "without prejudice". His lawyers were told new charges would be forthcoming. None have done so.
The question that the UK judges were now asked to look at was if there was a public interest in allowing the publication of seven paragraphs in their original judgement, in which they "provided a summary of reports by the United States Government to the [Security Service] and the Secret Intelligence Service (SIS) on the circumstances of [Binyam Mohamed]’s incommunicado and unlawful detention in Pakistan and of the treatment accorded to him by or on behalf of the United States Government as referred to in paragraph 87(iv) of our judgment." Essentially, these paragraphs are believed to say what the UK government knew about Binyam's treatment, and when - did they know he had been tortured? Were they complicit?
The Foreign Secretary blocked them being made public. The government argued that the US had threatened to suspend intelligence cooperation with the UK if the paragraphs were released, and therefore national security required them to remain secret.
As with all cases of national security, this is a balancing act. We have to decide what we are prepared to give up on the one hand, in return for something else on the other.
The case of Binyam Mohamed tells us that, in the opinion of the government, we must give up a desire to examine what has been done, with the knowledge and complicity of the UK government, to one man, because in return we gain, or retain, the benefit of intelligence sharing, and therefore enhanced security for us all.
The question for me, is whether the opinion of the government is right - have they got the balance right? Have we got the balance right?
The question is not an idle one. If we or the government have got the balance wrong, ultimately our society will suffer. The judges in the Binyam Mohamed case quoted Henry Hallam:
“Civil liberty in this kingdom has two direct guarantees; the open administration of justice according to known laws truly interpreted, and fair constructions of evidence; and the right of Parliament, without let or interruption, to inquire into, and obtain redress of, public grievances. Of these, the first is by far the most indispensable; nor can the subjects of any State be reckoned to enjoy a real freedom, where this condition is not found both in its judicial institutions and in their constant exercise.”
So have we, and has the government, got the balance right?
I'd argue we haven't.
As the judges said in their ruling, "[i]t is a novel issue which requires balancing the public interest in national security and the public interest in open justice, the rule of law and democratic accountability."
Binyam's lawyers argued that there was an absolute bar to granting a public interest immunity in the release of information pertaining to Binyam's alleged torture:
There was a general public interest in the exposure of evidence of any serious criminality by the State. It would therefore be contrary to the public interest to claim public interest immunity to conceal evidence of such criminality, as the rule of law demanded the investigation of such wrongdoing and the open and public adjudication of it.
The judges rejected this argument, because a public interest immunity certificate is there to protect the interests of the entire state, whereas the claim of criminality is against the Executive of the State - the government. In which case, they judged, it may still be in the public interest to block publication of information pertaining to an illegal act by the Executive, if to release that information would damage the interests of the wider State.
Essentially, because bad things could happen to the population, or their interests, it should be possible for the government to stop the release of information showing they or their agents acted in an illegal manner.
In this case, the 'bad thing' would be the reduction in intelligence sharing by the US, and thus placing the UK at greater risk of a successful attack. This is the crucial claim on which the whole judgement pivots. And, importantly, what is in the interests of national security is decided only by the Executive, by the Foreign Secretary, not by the judges.
This is where I think the balance is wrong. While I am sure the judges have made a sound judgement in law, I disagree about the protection of the State. It is incredibly damaging to the State as a whole to allow an Executive to get away with a criminal act, especially an act of the seriousness of torture. It is damaging to allow the suspicion that the Executive is getting away with a criminal act to linger. It is, in my opinion, more damaging to the State than the possible risks caused by the damaging of national security.
For that reason, I would argue that allowing the nebulous argument of national security to trump that of open justice in fact damages the State, and in a pervasive and insidious manner. In the balancing act between potential physical harm, and actual harm to society's accepted mores of justice, the judges have got it legally right, and morally wrong.
However, judges are not there to make the laws we want. That is what Parliament is for. That means we need to make Parliament bring government to account, if necessary by placing an absolute bar to public interest immunity being used in cases of allegations of serious criminality by the government. And if that is what we want Parliament to do, that is what we must make the Members of Parliament to do, by making the matter a "public grievance", and holding them to account over it.
Because sometimes we need our government to do the right thing, regardless of the cost.
(I encourage you all to have a look at the Binyam Mohamed ruling. It is fascinating, and illustrates the balancing act the judges have had to try and decide on.)
Sunday 1 February 2009
The Future of Globalisation? - Part 2
The Prime Minister tells us, in words of wisdom from his icy ivory tower in Davos, that protectionism must be avoided. The participants at Davos tell us how de-globalisation is not an option, that we must not start to dismantle the system they created, that made them so rich, so powerful.
And you know what? They're right.
Well, in so far as they go.
The rise of globalisation has been met with mistrust in many countries of the world, by many sections of society. In the UK, the gap between rich and poor has steadily grown. Relative poverty has increased. Some of us have felt uneasy that the prosperity of our country, that our own increased purchasing power, that the cheap prices of the shiny goods we want, have all been built on the backs of workers in China, India, around the world. In the back of our mind, we know they are likely to have been exploited, exploited for our benefit.
Yes, these workers in foriegn climes may even be happier with their lot than with their alternatives. Hordes of Chinese continue to abandon the fields, the crushing peasant lives they had been living in the country, to try and find a better life in the cities and factories. And in their eyes, it may indeed be better. But is that really all we can hope for? That things get a little better for the people we exploit? That they get a little better, slowly, while things get a lot better, quickly, for the people at the top?
Globalisation has produced an uneasy feeling in many people. But while prosperity was rising, we silenced that little voice of our conscience, and got on with spending. Now, however, prosperity is deserting us, and the tensions and distaste over globalisation are starting to come to the boil across Europe.
But we can't go back and change the system we now have. Demanding British jobs for British workers gives rise to protectionism, an ugly nationalistic kind of protectionism. It is a protectionism that seeks to protect British workers at the expense of everyone else, and ultimately it will be at our expense too.
There is no doubt in my mind, however, that something needs to be done. Globalisation has benefitted capital. World trade has made those rich enough to take advantage of it richer, while those unable to move as easily as the flows of digital capital have suffered. Companies wishing to take advantage of this now appear to be shipping workers wholesale from one country to another, to work on a temporary contract, at lower rates than the resident population.
Regardless of the economics of it, treating workers like cattle to be shuttled from building site to building site, from country to country, is just wrong. It degrades them. It degrades us.
But globalisation is an invincible tide, we are told. We cannot turn back the clock. To fight against it is futile.
Which is why I am suggesting embracing globalisation instead.
But it isn't the globalisation of capital, the one system of international co-operation that those at Davos want us to believe is possible. They call for reform of the IMF, the World Banks, anything to prop up the system they built. But now is the time for us to start building our own system, our own organisations to deal with the world as it is.
The case of the Portuguese and Italian workers is not an argument to block companies bringing in foreign workers to work on British sites. No, as I said, we depend on providing incentives and disincentives in this system. But instead of focusing on how to disincentivise workers taking action, it is time to focus on how to disincentivise companies taking advantage.
The globalisation I am calling for is a globalisation of working rights, of unions, of wage negotiations. In late 2007, two European Court rulings effectively allowed companies to undermine existing collective agreements in countries where they work. Both cases said that trade union action against overseas companies that had refused to apply pay and conditions of a host country had infringed the freedom of the company to operate freely under European Union law.
The protectionist way to deal with this would be to try and get the European Union to accept a change in the rules that stopped foreign firms being able to do this.
The new globalisation way to deal with this is to organise with unions in all European countries to negotiate coordinated agreements with companies.
Companies and capital are now global. Labour is becoming increasingly global. Now is the time to make our labour organisations global as well. And this means moving beyond the fraternal organisations that exist, the chummy little talking shops for union leaders. No, now is the time to build a truly international union, committed to protecting the rights of workers in each company, not in each country.
So yes, we need to build a union that can have workers striking across the continent, across the globe, if a company tries to take advantage of workers in one of the countries they operate in. Yes, we need to build a union that is willing, no, that demands to negotiate wages for workers throughout a company, not just those in a certain country.
Labour is becoming globalised. Unions need to do so too. Because now companies are seeking to play workers from one country off against workers in another, not from one factory against another. Because capital seeks to migrate to where it can take advantage of workers, regardless of the land they end up in.
And most importantly, because we need to be united against a new global capital that has more power than ever before to exploit us around the globe. We are stronger together, in a global union, regardless of the language we speak. And that, my friends, is acting in our own economic self-interest, that is playing the capitalists' game in a way they won't like.
And you know what? They're right.
Well, in so far as they go.
The rise of globalisation has been met with mistrust in many countries of the world, by many sections of society. In the UK, the gap between rich and poor has steadily grown. Relative poverty has increased. Some of us have felt uneasy that the prosperity of our country, that our own increased purchasing power, that the cheap prices of the shiny goods we want, have all been built on the backs of workers in China, India, around the world. In the back of our mind, we know they are likely to have been exploited, exploited for our benefit.
Yes, these workers in foriegn climes may even be happier with their lot than with their alternatives. Hordes of Chinese continue to abandon the fields, the crushing peasant lives they had been living in the country, to try and find a better life in the cities and factories. And in their eyes, it may indeed be better. But is that really all we can hope for? That things get a little better for the people we exploit? That they get a little better, slowly, while things get a lot better, quickly, for the people at the top?
Globalisation has produced an uneasy feeling in many people. But while prosperity was rising, we silenced that little voice of our conscience, and got on with spending. Now, however, prosperity is deserting us, and the tensions and distaste over globalisation are starting to come to the boil across Europe.
But we can't go back and change the system we now have. Demanding British jobs for British workers gives rise to protectionism, an ugly nationalistic kind of protectionism. It is a protectionism that seeks to protect British workers at the expense of everyone else, and ultimately it will be at our expense too.
There is no doubt in my mind, however, that something needs to be done. Globalisation has benefitted capital. World trade has made those rich enough to take advantage of it richer, while those unable to move as easily as the flows of digital capital have suffered. Companies wishing to take advantage of this now appear to be shipping workers wholesale from one country to another, to work on a temporary contract, at lower rates than the resident population.
Regardless of the economics of it, treating workers like cattle to be shuttled from building site to building site, from country to country, is just wrong. It degrades them. It degrades us.
But globalisation is an invincible tide, we are told. We cannot turn back the clock. To fight against it is futile.
Which is why I am suggesting embracing globalisation instead.
But it isn't the globalisation of capital, the one system of international co-operation that those at Davos want us to believe is possible. They call for reform of the IMF, the World Banks, anything to prop up the system they built. But now is the time for us to start building our own system, our own organisations to deal with the world as it is.
The case of the Portuguese and Italian workers is not an argument to block companies bringing in foreign workers to work on British sites. No, as I said, we depend on providing incentives and disincentives in this system. But instead of focusing on how to disincentivise workers taking action, it is time to focus on how to disincentivise companies taking advantage.
The globalisation I am calling for is a globalisation of working rights, of unions, of wage negotiations. In late 2007, two European Court rulings effectively allowed companies to undermine existing collective agreements in countries where they work. Both cases said that trade union action against overseas companies that had refused to apply pay and conditions of a host country had infringed the freedom of the company to operate freely under European Union law.
The protectionist way to deal with this would be to try and get the European Union to accept a change in the rules that stopped foreign firms being able to do this.
The new globalisation way to deal with this is to organise with unions in all European countries to negotiate coordinated agreements with companies.
Companies and capital are now global. Labour is becoming increasingly global. Now is the time to make our labour organisations global as well. And this means moving beyond the fraternal organisations that exist, the chummy little talking shops for union leaders. No, now is the time to build a truly international union, committed to protecting the rights of workers in each company, not in each country.
So yes, we need to build a union that can have workers striking across the continent, across the globe, if a company tries to take advantage of workers in one of the countries they operate in. Yes, we need to build a union that is willing, no, that demands to negotiate wages for workers throughout a company, not just those in a certain country.
Labour is becoming globalised. Unions need to do so too. Because now companies are seeking to play workers from one country off against workers in another, not from one factory against another. Because capital seeks to migrate to where it can take advantage of workers, regardless of the land they end up in.
And most importantly, because we need to be united against a new global capital that has more power than ever before to exploit us around the globe. We are stronger together, in a global union, regardless of the language we speak. And that, my friends, is acting in our own economic self-interest, that is playing the capitalists' game in a way they won't like.
Saturday 31 January 2009
The Future of Globalisation? - Part 1
The unrest has started. Across Europe, the discontent is starting to spill over into action. In Greece, riots over the death of a teenager have been replaced by protests by farmers. In Latvia, protests are turning into riots. In Lithuania, the same. In France, a general strike disrupts the country. In Iceland, quiet little Iceland, protesters and riot police share the streets, and a government falls. And in staid, polite old Britain, wildcat strikes are occurring.
At the World Economic Forum, politicians and plutocrats haunt the stage of their old successes. They appear shell-shocked, stunned by how quickly the world they built, the system they created, has started to crumble around them. Like Miss Havisham, they are unable to move on from the scene of their humiliation and disaster.
It isn't meant to be like this, they tell themselves. For decades, people in Europe have taken to the streets to demand a move to their capitalist system, for ever greater 'reform' of their economies. Look at the states of eastern Europe - they have raced to remake themselves as zealots of capitalism, rushing to embrace membership of the EU to calcify the market's grip on their countries.
But now...
It's not hard to see why this is happening. Not surprisingly, people are worried. No, more than that, people are scared. They are afraid of the chaos being unleashed around them, chaos that is starting to expand and endanger their livelihoods, their families, their well-being.
But in addition to that, people are angry. They are angry that those widely seen as having caused this chaos are not only getting away with it, but have taken vast sums of money for their troubles. They are angry that banking executives seem to believe that taking money from the tax-payer for themselves is acceptable. They are angry that politicians are letting them get away with this. They are angry that those who caused this, in business and politics alike, seem to be those who will be least effected by it.
And it is this potent mixture, of fear and rage, that is driving people onto the streets. And our current crop of politicians, brought up in a culture of managerialism, of bureaucracy, of technocracy, don't know how to react to so much naked emotion on display.
But the people out protesting aren't protesting just because of the state of the economy right now. Yes, that has been the trigger, but it is only providing the catalyst for other, and longer held, dis-satisfactions to rise to the surface.
Look at France. The ostensible reason for the general strike was that the government was bailing out banks and fat cats, but not protecting jobs and helping workers. But France has been a simmering cauldron of unrest for a long time now. Sarkozy came to power promising a broad swathe of reforms to the economy, to French society. The generalised unrest this has provoked in a significant section of French society has been galvanised by the current economic crisis.
In the Baltic states, there is rioting on the streets. There are predictions of dire economic collapse - 4.5% in Lithuania, 7% in Estonia, and an incredible 10% in Latvia. The fear this causes has joined with the anger over the steady reform of their economies to fit in with the rest of the EU.
And now Britain. No, we're not rioting. We generally leave that to the hot-heads on the continent. But we have seen a sudden and unexpected flurry of wildcat strikes. At almost 20 locations, across England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland, workers have walked out, held protests, demanded to be heard. These are unofficial strikes, illegal strikes, acts that could see these workers losing their jobs. But they went ahead anyway.
I've heard claims that there is no way these actions could spread, that these are just minor blips. The argument goes that people won't strike, because they would be too afraid of losing their jobs. But if workers are already scared about losing their jobs, if they already feel powerless, what is going to stop them?
And don't fall into the easy trap of believing the only people who would join these protests, the only people who could possibly object to foreign workers, are racists, closet or otherwise. No, in a situation like this, where it appears a company is bringing in cheaper labour from elsewhere, it is not racism for these British workers to act against it.
They are simply acting in their own economic self-interest - by attempting to stop companies undercutting the prevailing wage rates. It is the same economic self-interest that causes people to join unions. And yes, this kind of protectionism can be bad for the economy as a whole. But people will act in their economic self-interest, we are told. Just as bankers acted in their own economic self-interest, to the ultimate detriment of the economy as a whole.
A capitalist system requires people to act in their own economic self-interest. That self-interest has to be moderated by the rules and mores of a society, from government, from the people. We need to provide incentives to act in a way that is good for society as a whole, or disincentives to behaving in a way society doesn't want. At the moment, the disincentives towards taking action aren't working.
So what do we do? How do we deal with this? This is not a matter of dealing with this narrow sector of industry, that of construction contractors in the energy industry. We have seen the wave of unrest and protest that is sweeping the continent. All it needs in any country is one small spark. (And yes, despite the left-wing leanings of many of the protests, I think a country run in fear of revolt is a bad thing, because I'm a "democratic socialist" - the first word is important too. In addition, any protest that the BNP sends supporters to runs the risk of stopping being about protecting workers, and becomes about victimising different workers.)
Continued tomorrow...
At the World Economic Forum, politicians and plutocrats haunt the stage of their old successes. They appear shell-shocked, stunned by how quickly the world they built, the system they created, has started to crumble around them. Like Miss Havisham, they are unable to move on from the scene of their humiliation and disaster.
It isn't meant to be like this, they tell themselves. For decades, people in Europe have taken to the streets to demand a move to their capitalist system, for ever greater 'reform' of their economies. Look at the states of eastern Europe - they have raced to remake themselves as zealots of capitalism, rushing to embrace membership of the EU to calcify the market's grip on their countries.
But now...
It's not hard to see why this is happening. Not surprisingly, people are worried. No, more than that, people are scared. They are afraid of the chaos being unleashed around them, chaos that is starting to expand and endanger their livelihoods, their families, their well-being.
But in addition to that, people are angry. They are angry that those widely seen as having caused this chaos are not only getting away with it, but have taken vast sums of money for their troubles. They are angry that banking executives seem to believe that taking money from the tax-payer for themselves is acceptable. They are angry that politicians are letting them get away with this. They are angry that those who caused this, in business and politics alike, seem to be those who will be least effected by it.
And it is this potent mixture, of fear and rage, that is driving people onto the streets. And our current crop of politicians, brought up in a culture of managerialism, of bureaucracy, of technocracy, don't know how to react to so much naked emotion on display.
But the people out protesting aren't protesting just because of the state of the economy right now. Yes, that has been the trigger, but it is only providing the catalyst for other, and longer held, dis-satisfactions to rise to the surface.
Look at France. The ostensible reason for the general strike was that the government was bailing out banks and fat cats, but not protecting jobs and helping workers. But France has been a simmering cauldron of unrest for a long time now. Sarkozy came to power promising a broad swathe of reforms to the economy, to French society. The generalised unrest this has provoked in a significant section of French society has been galvanised by the current economic crisis.
In the Baltic states, there is rioting on the streets. There are predictions of dire economic collapse - 4.5% in Lithuania, 7% in Estonia, and an incredible 10% in Latvia. The fear this causes has joined with the anger over the steady reform of their economies to fit in with the rest of the EU.
And now Britain. No, we're not rioting. We generally leave that to the hot-heads on the continent. But we have seen a sudden and unexpected flurry of wildcat strikes. At almost 20 locations, across England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland, workers have walked out, held protests, demanded to be heard. These are unofficial strikes, illegal strikes, acts that could see these workers losing their jobs. But they went ahead anyway.
I've heard claims that there is no way these actions could spread, that these are just minor blips. The argument goes that people won't strike, because they would be too afraid of losing their jobs. But if workers are already scared about losing their jobs, if they already feel powerless, what is going to stop them?
And don't fall into the easy trap of believing the only people who would join these protests, the only people who could possibly object to foreign workers, are racists, closet or otherwise. No, in a situation like this, where it appears a company is bringing in cheaper labour from elsewhere, it is not racism for these British workers to act against it.
They are simply acting in their own economic self-interest - by attempting to stop companies undercutting the prevailing wage rates. It is the same economic self-interest that causes people to join unions. And yes, this kind of protectionism can be bad for the economy as a whole. But people will act in their economic self-interest, we are told. Just as bankers acted in their own economic self-interest, to the ultimate detriment of the economy as a whole.
A capitalist system requires people to act in their own economic self-interest. That self-interest has to be moderated by the rules and mores of a society, from government, from the people. We need to provide incentives to act in a way that is good for society as a whole, or disincentives to behaving in a way society doesn't want. At the moment, the disincentives towards taking action aren't working.
So what do we do? How do we deal with this? This is not a matter of dealing with this narrow sector of industry, that of construction contractors in the energy industry. We have seen the wave of unrest and protest that is sweeping the continent. All it needs in any country is one small spark. (And yes, despite the left-wing leanings of many of the protests, I think a country run in fear of revolt is a bad thing, because I'm a "democratic socialist" - the first word is important too. In addition, any protest that the BNP sends supporters to runs the risk of stopping being about protecting workers, and becomes about victimising different workers.)
Continued tomorrow...
Tuesday 27 January 2009
Government must release cabinet minutes on lead-up to Iraq war
Guardian article - Information tribunal orders publication of minutes following battle by campaigners
Sometimes you have to love the Freedom of Information Act and the rule of unintended consequences.
Sometimes you have to love the Freedom of Information Act and the rule of unintended consequences.
Monday 26 January 2009
Paying to Protest in UK
Jo Adetunji: Did you know … that you can be charged by councils for demonstrating against them?
I think this is a subject that is going to become more and more relevant as the various legislation that ahs been put through in the past few years starts to be applied. Many people will start to be very surprised at just what is now being criminalised, monitored, controlled, or chargeable.
I think this is a subject that is going to become more and more relevant as the various legislation that ahs been put through in the past few years starts to be applied. Many people will start to be very surprised at just what is now being criminalised, monitored, controlled, or chargeable.
Saturday 24 January 2009
Obama-mania
So, it's happened. The USA has finally got rid of Bush, which means the rest of the world has as well. In exchange, we get Obama, a man who has an enormous pressure of expectation on his shoulders.
Obama has already done good things. He has ordered the closure of Guantanamo Bay internment centre, allowing those there to either be released, or face a court, as should have happened years ago. He has repealed the ban on funding family planning organisations around the world that dare to talk about abortion. Already, he is starting to repair the damage done to the USA's reputation around the world by the previous incumbent.
But this post isn't about Obama, or how wonderful or not he may be. This post is about the reaction to him from us, from Britain, and from the Labour Party.
The reaction to Obama has been ecstatic, and fawning. Like the screaming crowds greeting a pop-star, our politicians have been going goo-eyed over him, dreaming that some part of his lustre may somehow rub off on them. They have been scrabbling to touch the hem of his robe, hoping that somehow this will make them instantly popular.
Yesterday I suffered a moment that made me practically embarrassed to be British - not something that happens often. (Except when we play the Australians at cricket.) I turned over to the BBC News channel to see it had broken out the BREAKING NEWS banner. "My," I thought, "what has caused this? What shock to our country, what devastating disaster, or what joyous news, what happy event?" I didn't have long to wait. The banner streamed across the bottom of the screen: GORDON BROWN SPEAKS TO PRESIDENT OBAMA BY TELEPHONE. In-depth analysis followed, where the highly intelligent Stephanie Flanders made guesses as to what they may have spoken about.
Now look, I know a lot of this is the product of 24 hour news channels, where they have to fill their time with ever-increasing amounts of inanity. But come on, this was like a bunch of teenage girls screaming with excitement that that special someone had called them. Does anyone actually feel proud of our Prime Minister because he took a phone call? Does anyone feel our standing in the world is enhanced? Does anyone really feel it matters a damn if our Prime Minister is the first foreign leader Obama spoke to, or the second, or third?
Then there is the cringe-inducing case of Dawn Butler MP. I just don't know what to say about that. It's just... embarrassing.
Not to forget the Labour Party's dreadful new fund-raising push. They have seen an energising, exciting, successful campaign by a left-leaning (relatively) figure, and decided the best thing to do is... try and get some cash out of it. Yes, yes, I know that the party needs money, I know they are getting desperate. But is this really the lesson they want to learn? Do they really think people are going to donate money to the Labour Party because they think Barack Obama is a good guy?
We are suffering from a lack of confidence, from a lack of belief in ourselves. Yes, Obama is exciting and inspiring. But that doesn't mean that our response should just be adulation, and a desperate attempt to get some reflected glory. When did our country become so craven that that the best we can hope for is that the President of the USA calls us first? When did our politicians become so lightweight that standing next to someone people like is their favourite tactic?
I'm embarrassed that my country now believes in itself so little that it judges its worth by how quickly the US calls. I'm embarrassed that our politicians feel reflected glory is the best they can hope for.
The Labour Party, indeed the whole political class, seems to want the lesson from Obama's victory to be one about tactics. About how social networking can make a difference. About how blogs can get people to donate. About how Twitter can reach thousands instantly. About how a thriving and vibrant online presence can make people donate money and time.
I can understand this desire. I really can. If it is just about tactics, then it can be replicated. It becomes a cookie-cutter approach that can be rolled out by check-list, simple steps to achieve complete digital dominance. To achieve a critical mass that will help achieve electoral dominance.
I can understand the desire for that to be the lesson, I really can. But it's just wrong.
Obama's campaign didn't attract millions because it was online. It didn't attract millions because it communicated regularly. It didn't attract millions because it was shiny and new and digital and whatever buzzwords you want to throw at it.
No, it attracted millions because of the message. Because Obama came out to a country that was deeply divided, that had been wracked by internal divisions for 8 years, that had faced disaster, attacks, murders and wars, that was now facing economic catastrophe, and the collapse of the system they had been following for decades, he came out to that country and he told them it was OK to hope again. That things can improve. That if they all work together, they can make their country, and the world, a better place. That it was OK to talk about changing the way the economy, and society, worked. He came out and gave a message at odds with that being given by both the Republicans and, initially at least, the Democrats.
The Labour Party here particularly has a problem with this. How can they provide answers to the chaos they have presided over? How can they tell people they will make it all better, when they are the people who took us into this mess? This isn't about the stale argument over whose fault all this is, it's about the perception and feeling of the electorate, which isn't going to be swayed by the incessant sniping over why we are here.
The country is scared. We are nervous, and worried, and we don't know what is going to happen next. Confidence is plummeting. The economic system we have followed for decades is falling apart around us. We are embroiled in two wars. We've been told to fear a vicious assault by terrorists.
Obama spoke to people. He spoke to their dreams. He spoke to their hopes. He spoke to their aspirations. He told them it was going to be OK. He gave them answers to the chaos unfolding around them.
The lesson to learn isn't that you need to campaign online. The lesson is that you need to speak to the electorate. You need to listen to what they want. You need to listen to their fears and their hopes, and you have to address them. The lesson is that you need a message, that you need substance, that you need to be willing to say what you think has to be done now, not because it is popular but because it is right.
In short, you need to be a leader.
It remains to be seen if any British politician of this generation can do that.
Obama has already done good things. He has ordered the closure of Guantanamo Bay internment centre, allowing those there to either be released, or face a court, as should have happened years ago. He has repealed the ban on funding family planning organisations around the world that dare to talk about abortion. Already, he is starting to repair the damage done to the USA's reputation around the world by the previous incumbent.
But this post isn't about Obama, or how wonderful or not he may be. This post is about the reaction to him from us, from Britain, and from the Labour Party.
The reaction to Obama has been ecstatic, and fawning. Like the screaming crowds greeting a pop-star, our politicians have been going goo-eyed over him, dreaming that some part of his lustre may somehow rub off on them. They have been scrabbling to touch the hem of his robe, hoping that somehow this will make them instantly popular.
Yesterday I suffered a moment that made me practically embarrassed to be British - not something that happens often. (Except when we play the Australians at cricket.) I turned over to the BBC News channel to see it had broken out the BREAKING NEWS banner. "My," I thought, "what has caused this? What shock to our country, what devastating disaster, or what joyous news, what happy event?" I didn't have long to wait. The banner streamed across the bottom of the screen: GORDON BROWN SPEAKS TO PRESIDENT OBAMA BY TELEPHONE. In-depth analysis followed, where the highly intelligent Stephanie Flanders made guesses as to what they may have spoken about.
Now look, I know a lot of this is the product of 24 hour news channels, where they have to fill their time with ever-increasing amounts of inanity. But come on, this was like a bunch of teenage girls screaming with excitement that that special someone had called them. Does anyone actually feel proud of our Prime Minister because he took a phone call? Does anyone feel our standing in the world is enhanced? Does anyone really feel it matters a damn if our Prime Minister is the first foreign leader Obama spoke to, or the second, or third?
Then there is the cringe-inducing case of Dawn Butler MP. I just don't know what to say about that. It's just... embarrassing.
Not to forget the Labour Party's dreadful new fund-raising push. They have seen an energising, exciting, successful campaign by a left-leaning (relatively) figure, and decided the best thing to do is... try and get some cash out of it. Yes, yes, I know that the party needs money, I know they are getting desperate. But is this really the lesson they want to learn? Do they really think people are going to donate money to the Labour Party because they think Barack Obama is a good guy?
We are suffering from a lack of confidence, from a lack of belief in ourselves. Yes, Obama is exciting and inspiring. But that doesn't mean that our response should just be adulation, and a desperate attempt to get some reflected glory. When did our country become so craven that that the best we can hope for is that the President of the USA calls us first? When did our politicians become so lightweight that standing next to someone people like is their favourite tactic?
I'm embarrassed that my country now believes in itself so little that it judges its worth by how quickly the US calls. I'm embarrassed that our politicians feel reflected glory is the best they can hope for.
The Labour Party, indeed the whole political class, seems to want the lesson from Obama's victory to be one about tactics. About how social networking can make a difference. About how blogs can get people to donate. About how Twitter can reach thousands instantly. About how a thriving and vibrant online presence can make people donate money and time.
I can understand this desire. I really can. If it is just about tactics, then it can be replicated. It becomes a cookie-cutter approach that can be rolled out by check-list, simple steps to achieve complete digital dominance. To achieve a critical mass that will help achieve electoral dominance.
I can understand the desire for that to be the lesson, I really can. But it's just wrong.
Obama's campaign didn't attract millions because it was online. It didn't attract millions because it communicated regularly. It didn't attract millions because it was shiny and new and digital and whatever buzzwords you want to throw at it.
No, it attracted millions because of the message. Because Obama came out to a country that was deeply divided, that had been wracked by internal divisions for 8 years, that had faced disaster, attacks, murders and wars, that was now facing economic catastrophe, and the collapse of the system they had been following for decades, he came out to that country and he told them it was OK to hope again. That things can improve. That if they all work together, they can make their country, and the world, a better place. That it was OK to talk about changing the way the economy, and society, worked. He came out and gave a message at odds with that being given by both the Republicans and, initially at least, the Democrats.
The Labour Party here particularly has a problem with this. How can they provide answers to the chaos they have presided over? How can they tell people they will make it all better, when they are the people who took us into this mess? This isn't about the stale argument over whose fault all this is, it's about the perception and feeling of the electorate, which isn't going to be swayed by the incessant sniping over why we are here.
The country is scared. We are nervous, and worried, and we don't know what is going to happen next. Confidence is plummeting. The economic system we have followed for decades is falling apart around us. We are embroiled in two wars. We've been told to fear a vicious assault by terrorists.
Obama spoke to people. He spoke to their dreams. He spoke to their hopes. He spoke to their aspirations. He told them it was going to be OK. He gave them answers to the chaos unfolding around them.
The lesson to learn isn't that you need to campaign online. The lesson is that you need to speak to the electorate. You need to listen to what they want. You need to listen to their fears and their hopes, and you have to address them. The lesson is that you need a message, that you need substance, that you need to be willing to say what you think has to be done now, not because it is popular but because it is right.
In short, you need to be a leader.
It remains to be seen if any British politician of this generation can do that.
Thursday 22 January 2009
Wednesday 21 January 2009
Gordon Brown backs move to block full publication of MPs' expenses
Gordon Brown backs move to block full publication of MPs' expenses - Times Online
Breathtaking.
UPDATE:
Gordon Brown withdraws plan to keep details of MPs' expenses secret
Hurrah! Looks like an internet campaign had an effect, for once...
Breathtaking.
UPDATE:
Gordon Brown withdraws plan to keep details of MPs' expenses secret
Hurrah! Looks like an internet campaign had an effect, for once...
Monday 19 January 2009
6 days to stop MPs concealing their expenses
mySociety » Blog Archive » 6 days to stop MPs concealing their expenses
Pretty much as it says. Go, read, write to your MP.
Guardian article.
Possibly the only time I have ever agreed with someone from the TaxPayers' Alliance...
Pretty much as it says. Go, read, write to your MP.
The changes will put MPs and peers in a special category as the only paid public officials who will not have to disclose the full details of their expenses and allowances.
Guardian article.
Possibly the only time I have ever agreed with someone from the TaxPayers' Alliance...
Sunday 18 January 2009
Toxic Assets Leave A Bad Taste
It is becoming increasingly obvious that a new, and potentially devastating, round of bank writedowns is just starting. This will increase the dramatic holes in the banks' balance sheets. Inevitably, it will also renew the calls for more government intervention to save the banks.
The main focus for rescue attempts this time round is based on the so-called 'toxic assets' the banks hold - essentially, the overly complicated derivatives of various loans that started the whole credit crunch. People stopped repaying the loans, and banks suddenly realised that, thanks to the way the derivatives were structured, they didn't know who was going to be effected. With no idea of who was losing out, it became impossible to exchange these derivatives, leading to a freezing up of the financial markets, and a drying up of credit. Now the call is for the government, the tax-payer, to buy up these assets. This would mean the banks lose the potential black hole on their balance sheet, and get the security of cash instead.
The reason we are told we need to do this is to get the banks lending again, to return to the 'normal' level of lending of the past few years. But is this really something we want? It is widely acknowledged that the problem we are facing was caused by too much easy credit being available, that we had all become accustomed to the magically increasing feeling of affluence that rising house prices gave us, house prices propelled ever upwards through a combination of lack of supply and ever greater credit given to those seeking mortgages. If we did return to that world, it is inevitable that all we would be doing is putting off the economic distress to a later date, and in fact perhaps making sure it will be much worse.
That is not to say that the lack of lending is a good thing. No, credit is a vital part of business for many perfectly sensible and staid companies. But they are being dragged down by the poor decisions made by banks to lend to people based solely on the assumption that house prices would magically rise forever, with nary a blip to worry us.
So what is to be done? Banks, not surprisingly, are calling for the tax-payer to take the toxic assets off their hands, to transfer the potentially massive liabilities from them to us. But if we did, how much should we pay for these assets, given that the reason the market in them froze up was that no-one could value them? It's a difficult question, and has many different aspects to it. On the one hand, if you take too negative a view, banks will not gain enough money to resume lending. If you are too generous, the tax-payer hands over too much money, and loses on the value of the assets.
There is an argument that the second case is, essentially, irrelevant. Tax-payers are already suffering from an economy that is dead in the water. Being overly generous to the banks may just help alleviate that situation, and they are more likely to start lending again.
This is not an argument I am totally convinced by. Anything which deliberately moves our tax money into private hands, and is, almost by deliberate design, overly generous doesn't exactly sit well with me.
So what is to be done? Bailing out the banks, and buying their toxic assets, and doing nothing else would serve only to reward them for their poor decisions (I've blogged about this before). The role of government in this banking crisis is not to act in the best interests of the banks. It is to act in the best interests of us, the voters and tax-payers who are going to have to fix all of this mess. Our needs and best interests are complex, and will not be served by simple solutions, by throwing money at the banks in the hope they will deign to start lending in the same reckless way they have in the past.
How about this for a way forward?
Use government money to invest in a large-scale and rapid expansion of social housing. This has the benefit of getting money directly into the economy, supporting an industry particularly badly hit by the downturn, and reducing the pressure on the housing market that caused it to overheat so dramatically.
Completely nationalise RBS (the bank we currently have a large and absolute majority shareholding in), and use it as a development bank. This bank, as well as continuing as a retail bank (though this arm could subsequently be sold off) will have as its aim to support British industry through providing loans to small and medium businesses with a long repayment time at low interest rates - in essence, allowing businesses to invest in themselves without risking the uncertainty of short term bank loans or braving a flotation or other form of external investment. One of the ways this could help is by enabling manufacturing businesses to invest in new machinery without being punished by shareholders.
However, while we need a strong and vibrant manufacturing sector (particularly considering the positive impact, now removed, that the financial markets in London had on our trade deficit), we cannot compete as simple metal-bashers - if we try to compete on cheapest cost only, we are doomed to failure. No, we must also target loans at supporting other industries, industries that use the wealth of graduates we are now producing in productive ways. Knowledge based businesses could receive loans to develop new technologies, new devices, new methods. Even intellectual properties need to be developed.
This is the type of lending that the economy needs, that society needs. This will enable Britain to rebuild its economy, and refocus it from being excessively biased towards the financial markets, and to become much more balanced. And happily, we already have some of the infrastructure in place to make the judgements on what lending is appropriate thanks to the various departments of Regional Development Agencies around the country, which already make judgements on grants on criteria including value to the wider economy and support for innovation.
Lending for larger companies would have to be looked at on a case by case basis. Large companies are, of course, important to the economy, not least through the web of companies they order from. But lending to these businesses would have to be done on much more stringent commercial lines.
As for the toxic assets, well, that's a tough one. It is appropriate for the government to intervene to assist home-owners (or rather, mortgage payers) in difficulty, and to try and reduce the over-inflation of the market through building. Is it appropriate to bail out those whose greed blinded them to the problems, who sought only to profit? I don't know.
What I do know, though, is that with one bank nationalised, the pressure from the stock market on the others over their toxic assets will be immense. Because of this, and to prevent their collapse and the situation of all banking in the UK being through state-owned banks, I can only suggest that the assets are indeed bought, but at a conservative price - paying too much would encourage reckless lending again, and important business lending will already be in place via the nationalised RBS. If the banks feel the need to batten down the hatches, then so be it.
Yes, this is likely to cause pain and hardship for some. But we have to face the fact that there is going to be pain and hardship. We got ourselves into an appalling position, and there is no magic wand to wave to make it all go away. We pay now, or we pay later, and perhaps pay more. All we can do is make sure support is there so that no-one suffers too much or for too long. And rebalancing the economy might just mean this kind of pain is avoided in the future.
(Thanks to Matthew Stratford for his help.)
The main focus for rescue attempts this time round is based on the so-called 'toxic assets' the banks hold - essentially, the overly complicated derivatives of various loans that started the whole credit crunch. People stopped repaying the loans, and banks suddenly realised that, thanks to the way the derivatives were structured, they didn't know who was going to be effected. With no idea of who was losing out, it became impossible to exchange these derivatives, leading to a freezing up of the financial markets, and a drying up of credit. Now the call is for the government, the tax-payer, to buy up these assets. This would mean the banks lose the potential black hole on their balance sheet, and get the security of cash instead.
The reason we are told we need to do this is to get the banks lending again, to return to the 'normal' level of lending of the past few years. But is this really something we want? It is widely acknowledged that the problem we are facing was caused by too much easy credit being available, that we had all become accustomed to the magically increasing feeling of affluence that rising house prices gave us, house prices propelled ever upwards through a combination of lack of supply and ever greater credit given to those seeking mortgages. If we did return to that world, it is inevitable that all we would be doing is putting off the economic distress to a later date, and in fact perhaps making sure it will be much worse.
That is not to say that the lack of lending is a good thing. No, credit is a vital part of business for many perfectly sensible and staid companies. But they are being dragged down by the poor decisions made by banks to lend to people based solely on the assumption that house prices would magically rise forever, with nary a blip to worry us.
So what is to be done? Banks, not surprisingly, are calling for the tax-payer to take the toxic assets off their hands, to transfer the potentially massive liabilities from them to us. But if we did, how much should we pay for these assets, given that the reason the market in them froze up was that no-one could value them? It's a difficult question, and has many different aspects to it. On the one hand, if you take too negative a view, banks will not gain enough money to resume lending. If you are too generous, the tax-payer hands over too much money, and loses on the value of the assets.
There is an argument that the second case is, essentially, irrelevant. Tax-payers are already suffering from an economy that is dead in the water. Being overly generous to the banks may just help alleviate that situation, and they are more likely to start lending again.
This is not an argument I am totally convinced by. Anything which deliberately moves our tax money into private hands, and is, almost by deliberate design, overly generous doesn't exactly sit well with me.
So what is to be done? Bailing out the banks, and buying their toxic assets, and doing nothing else would serve only to reward them for their poor decisions (I've blogged about this before). The role of government in this banking crisis is not to act in the best interests of the banks. It is to act in the best interests of us, the voters and tax-payers who are going to have to fix all of this mess. Our needs and best interests are complex, and will not be served by simple solutions, by throwing money at the banks in the hope they will deign to start lending in the same reckless way they have in the past.
How about this for a way forward?
Use government money to invest in a large-scale and rapid expansion of social housing. This has the benefit of getting money directly into the economy, supporting an industry particularly badly hit by the downturn, and reducing the pressure on the housing market that caused it to overheat so dramatically.
Completely nationalise RBS (the bank we currently have a large and absolute majority shareholding in), and use it as a development bank. This bank, as well as continuing as a retail bank (though this arm could subsequently be sold off) will have as its aim to support British industry through providing loans to small and medium businesses with a long repayment time at low interest rates - in essence, allowing businesses to invest in themselves without risking the uncertainty of short term bank loans or braving a flotation or other form of external investment. One of the ways this could help is by enabling manufacturing businesses to invest in new machinery without being punished by shareholders.
However, while we need a strong and vibrant manufacturing sector (particularly considering the positive impact, now removed, that the financial markets in London had on our trade deficit), we cannot compete as simple metal-bashers - if we try to compete on cheapest cost only, we are doomed to failure. No, we must also target loans at supporting other industries, industries that use the wealth of graduates we are now producing in productive ways. Knowledge based businesses could receive loans to develop new technologies, new devices, new methods. Even intellectual properties need to be developed.
This is the type of lending that the economy needs, that society needs. This will enable Britain to rebuild its economy, and refocus it from being excessively biased towards the financial markets, and to become much more balanced. And happily, we already have some of the infrastructure in place to make the judgements on what lending is appropriate thanks to the various departments of Regional Development Agencies around the country, which already make judgements on grants on criteria including value to the wider economy and support for innovation.
Lending for larger companies would have to be looked at on a case by case basis. Large companies are, of course, important to the economy, not least through the web of companies they order from. But lending to these businesses would have to be done on much more stringent commercial lines.
As for the toxic assets, well, that's a tough one. It is appropriate for the government to intervene to assist home-owners (or rather, mortgage payers) in difficulty, and to try and reduce the over-inflation of the market through building. Is it appropriate to bail out those whose greed blinded them to the problems, who sought only to profit? I don't know.
What I do know, though, is that with one bank nationalised, the pressure from the stock market on the others over their toxic assets will be immense. Because of this, and to prevent their collapse and the situation of all banking in the UK being through state-owned banks, I can only suggest that the assets are indeed bought, but at a conservative price - paying too much would encourage reckless lending again, and important business lending will already be in place via the nationalised RBS. If the banks feel the need to batten down the hatches, then so be it.
Yes, this is likely to cause pain and hardship for some. But we have to face the fact that there is going to be pain and hardship. We got ourselves into an appalling position, and there is no magic wand to wave to make it all go away. We pay now, or we pay later, and perhaps pay more. All we can do is make sure support is there so that no-one suffers too much or for too long. And rebalancing the economy might just mean this kind of pain is avoided in the future.
(Thanks to Matthew Stratford for his help.)
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