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.
Thursday, 14 May 2009
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.
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