Sunday 28 November 2021

'Austerity: The Demolition of the Welfare State and the Rise of the Zombie Economy' by Kerry-Anne Mendoza

When I was first starting to follow politics, I read quite a lot of Another Angry Voice and Scriptonite Daily. The latter was the blog of Kerry-Anne Mendoza, who went on to be a co-founder and editor-in-chief of The Canary, the leftwing news website. At the time I remember being quite excited by The Canary launching, and then being thoroughly disappointed when it turned out to be clickbait trash. 

Mendoza's Scriptonite Daily blog posts were collated, revised and expanded to form her first and so far only book, with the simple title 'Austerity' and the rather overlong and clunky subtitle 'The Demolition of the Welfare State and the Rise of the Zombie Economy'.

In the age of COVID and Brexit, it's a bit of an odd experience to return to a polemic criticising the austerity policies of the Cameron government. I had vague recollections of reading the blog versions of some of the chapters, and found myself in a sort of dialogue with my younger, only-just-starting-to-be-politically-engaged self.

The book is divided into three parts: the first two ('The Demolition' and 'Austerity and Democracy') are Mendoza's; part three ('10 Economic Myths') was written by two other authors and was added as extra material to this edition. This third part is only twenty pages and effectively debunks some economics myths which might be made of straw.

Mendoza is strongest where she is criticising a specific policy, describing the harm it is causing - for example the bedroom tax, benefits cuts, and Michael Gove's education reforms. The best chapters are therefore in the first half of the book. 

The book's origin as a series of blog posts hampers the flow between chapters. Despite Mendoza's attempt to add a frame narrative, there is no real sense of a narrative building across the chapters: they work as standalone pandemics about certain subjects, but are not linked very convincingly into a wider arc. I felt very little impetus to read more than one chapter at a time.

What's more, some of the chapters cover quite a range of topics, but only cursorily. For example, in Chapter 10, 'Outsourcing the justice system', Mendoza gives two pages on the growth of G4S, 2 pages of G4S failures, 3 pages about how awful the American justice system is, and 2 pages on Legal Aid cuts. These are all important topics, and none of them are covered adequately. Without the added material, the book comes to less than 200 pages: there was plenty of room for further expansion.

The frame narrative is the 'Rise of the Zombie Economy' part of the overlong subtitle. This is where the book starts to come apart, degenerating towards incoherence and conspiracism. It contains by far the worst parts of the book.

The story begins with the Bretton Woods conference in 1944, where the post-war economic order was established, and organisations such as the IMF and World Bank were founded: this 'set the roadmap for domestic and international economic policy to this day... they have overseen the transfer of power from the State to private institutions and corporations. This is the endgame of the neoliberal project - whether the key players know and intend it or not.'

It was somewhat surprising to encounter Bretton Woods presented as the beginning of Neoliberalism; most leftwing narratives date it to the late 70s with the elections of Thatcher and Reagan and the increasing influence of Milton Friedman. Neoliberalism is an imprecise and not entirely useful term, since you can stretch it to encompass quite a wide range of views; hence it becoming ubiquitous and almost meaningless in some online discourse these days.

Despite dedicating Chapter 2 to explaining the 'Zombie Economy', Mendoza never really makes clear what it is, only using vague comparisons to a 'real economy'.

It is 'a night-of-the-living dead economy that consumes value and defecates debt'. 

So the Zombie Economy is about destroying value and creating debt, got it.

'The Zombie Economy exists to overcome the barriers to capital growth. It creates financial instruments that increase the paper value of an asset by financialising it.' 

Ah, so the Zombie Economy is about using debt and finance to increase value, got it.

'The purpose of... the Zombie Economy is for creditors, investment banks and investors to make maximum profits from lending... The purpose is to move people away from making money by producing things, towards making money from money.' 

OK, I think I get it: the Zombie Economy is about restructuring the economy away from physical industries such as manufacturing towards the financial services industry.

'It's priority is rather to transfer public spending from the real economy, where things are made and people are supported, to the Zombie Economy, where profits are made and people are abandoned.' 

What? Are you saying that profits are not made in the 'real economy'? What does this even mean?

Chapter 2 begins with a section titled 'Understanding Value', where Mendoza explains that value is:

'A Good Idea + Skill + Usefulness = Added Value'

That is certainly an idea of value. 

Mendoza does not explain the difference between 'Value in use' and 'Value in exchange': utility versus price. Mendoza does not talk about the price mechanism or of "value being in the eye of the beholder".

Indeed, her presentation of the Zombie Economy seems to rest on the belief that 'Value in use' is the correct, good, proper, real, value, the one used in her so-called real economy, whereas 'Value in exchange' is the evil, false value used in the 'Zombie Economy'.

After giving her definition of value, Mendoza then complains that 'the problem is, this has ceased to be the way our economy has actually worked for some considerable time (if it ever was)… The way most wealth is accumulated today is not based on this simple premise of adding value by creating something useful and being rewarded for that contribution.' Sounds like there might be something missing from this analysis.

There are many things missing from her analysis. 

I expected the topic of 'Zombie Banks' to come up at some point in a book about a 'Zombie Economy'. Nope. I would expect a book about Austerity to talk about the international bond market and bond yields. Nope. The famous, and famously debunked, paper 'Growth in a Time of Debt' gets a brief mention in explaining the turn towards austerity, but there is no real attempt to understand the motives behind those implementing austerity: they may as well be cartoon villains.

In her overall conclusion, Mendoza returns to her frame narrative to talk about 'The endgame of Austerity':

'The inevitable endgame of neoliberalism is corporate fascism, and the de-civilisation of our world. The only way out is to abandon capitalism in all its forms... French poet Charles Baudelaire once wrote 'the devil's finest trick is to persuade you that he does not exist.' This is the trick pulled by the neoliberal project. Convince billions of people that there is no plan'

We've reached the part of the book about sinister plots to take over the world and destroy civilisation.

And the only way out is to reject all forms of capitalism - unfortunately she does not explain this solution in detail, as 'the purpose of this book is not to present solutions in detail.' She teases a future book that will explore this, but it hasn't come out yet.

There are good things in this book - the polemics against specific policies are well done - but the whole is ultimately frustrating and unsatisfying. There are better books out there which feel like complete, properly structured books, with a proper narrative and consistent argument. 

'Stolen: How to Save the World from Financialization' by Grace Blakeley covers what I think Mendoza was trying to say with her 'Zombie Economy' stuff, but with coherence and an actual narrative arc.

'Austerity: The History of a Dangerous Idea' by Mark Blyth gives a thorough rundown of the theoretical underpinnings of austerity and the effects it has had when variously implemented across the world.


Tuesday 9 November 2021

'Operation 10' by Hardiman Scott

Hardiman Scott's justifiably forgotten and out of print first novel is, ostensibly, a fast-paced thriller about Margaret Thatcher being kidnapped by IRA terrorists. I heard of it via an advert at the back of my old edition of A Very British Coup by Chris Mullin, and purchased a copy in the hope that it had fallen out of print due to the subject matter not being topical anymore, and possibly having become distasteful in the aftermath of the Brighton bombing, rather than as a sign of it lacking quality.

I gave up at the halfway mark.

Part of the problem for the book is that the blurb does an excellent job of getting you ready for a fast-paced, but probably trashy, thriller which opens with Thatcher being kidnapped and then excitedly follows the various characters as they try to discover her whereabouts, negotiate with the terrorists, investigate leads, perhaps reveal that one of her special advisors had been an IRA agent in deep cover or something - y'know, standard trashy thriller stuff. 

Alternatively, it might have been a more thoughtful book of political intrigue and ideology, exploring the complexity of the Troubles, and perhaps posing a direct challenge to Thatcher's stance at the time. The blurb's description of the 'the price on her head is outrageously high, and the government refuses to pay' could perhaps hint at a questioning of Thatcher's belief in the price mechanism and market economics.

The book is in fact neither of these things, it is ruthlessly boring. 

I gave up at the halfway mark because Margaret Thatcher had not yet been kidnapped. At least half of the novel is devoted to following the IRA members as they meticulously plan and rehearse the kidnapping, over and over and over again, for months. And it feels like months. The terrorists are not even interesting characters - they have a few character traits each, so they are slightly more than one-dimensional.

A side-plot involves a Special Branch Superintendent worrying - for months - that a major IRA operation will be happening soon, because nothing has happened for a while and his informants have revealed that the IRA cells across the country have been instructed to lie low for a bit. We periodically check in on him, and discover that he is still worrying and that nothing has happened.

At the halfway mark, both the reader and the characters themselves are still waiting for the promised story to start. Chapter 9 begins (page 106 of 252) with the date for the kidnapping finally being chosen, and the terrorists then finding stuff to kill time 'just to pass the hours'. We then cut to the side-plot and learn that for the superintendent 'also the time passed slowly' BECAUSE NOTHING IS HAPPENING.

Time passes slowly for both the reader and the characters in this supposedly pacey and gripping thriller. I became so bored and so uninterested that I didn't care enough to continue to find out when the story would actually start and whether it would somehow improve in quality once it did. Time passed so slowly while reading this that I struggle believe that I only read half of a short novel when it felt so excruciatingly long.

Tuesday 24 August 2021

'Dangerous Hero' by Tom Bower


When Corbyn was Labour leader, I found it very difficult to get any real idea of how good or bad he was doing, because the reporting of him was so blatantly polarised. He was vilified in the mainstream press, and hailed as a messianic figure on social media. The mainstream reporting was so brazenly hyperbolic that it was easy to disregard it all as a smear campaign; when anyone criticised Corbyn, they could be dismissed as part of the Establishment campaign against him. Two hyperpolarised mythologies developed around the Labour leader: Corbyn the Messiah, who would champion the downtrodden and lead Britain to a golden age; Corbyn the Destroyer, who hated Britain and sympathised with terrorists.

Tom Bower's book is all of the Corbyn the Destroyer mythology condensed into one handy volume, published in 2019 (it was also serialised in the Daily Mail). It is not a good book, sometimes it is comically bad, and it is riddled with errors and inaccuracies.

Sources are not provided for most of the information - 'for legal reasons... unusually the book has no references'. When a source is named, such as the notoriously untruthful George Galloway, it becomes clear that Bower has largely been in contact with people who disliked Corbyn or had vendettas against him: he has no interest in getting a proper understanding of Corbyn as an actual person, only in presenting him as an incompetent Marxist cartoon villain. 

The sources of quotations from books, magazines, and newspapers are also frequently not given: we are just meant to trust that the magazine or newspaper did say it, but are not given the date or issue number for us to find the quote ourselves. We also have to take it on trust that Bower has not deliberately omitted positive comments from his various sources. The few times that a source does say something positive about Corbyn, Bower immediately tries to defuse it:

'"People thought he was a nice bloke," conceded Allcock. "He made them feel comfortable. He even charmed his adversaries." In his constituency dealings at least, Corbyn had perfected a genial mask, despite not yet proving himself as an effective MP.'

Bower pretends to understand Corbyn's inner thoughts and motivations, which are invariably sinister and malicious: he acts not out of concern for the unfortunate, but out of hatred for the upper and middle classes. For example, before he was an MP, councillor Corbyn pushed to for houses to be built on some parkland; if we are to believe Bower, Corbyn's main goal here was to annoy the middle classes who would lose their park, not to help people without homes.

'Annoying Haringey's middle classes game him particular delight. Faced with a huge housing problem after the arrival of thousands of Cypriot refugees in London, Corbyn proposed building homes on green parkland. Local residents were outraged. The rich, he scoffed, clearly disliked living alongside immigrants - but they would have no choice.'

Racist dog whistles are common throughout. The reader is meant to be suspicious of Corbyn's anti-imperialist beliefs and championing of refugees and immigrants; we are meant to see him as anti-White, anti-British, a self-hating white British man who sides with foreigners against his own people: 'He would black up if he could,' one Labour MP said of Corbyn, according to George Galloway.

This characterisation is appalling, and I think it tells you a lot about the author. Indeed, throughout Bower comes across as an intensely repulsive man; this is not helped by the two author photos, in which his body language and facial expression make him look like an absolute prick. 

Furthermore, in the introduction and author bio, Bower says he used to be a Marxist himself back at university, and was known as 'Tommy the Red', and yet he seems completely incapable of understanding Corbyn & co's ideology and motivations. Leftist descriptors such as 'Marxist' are used almost as synonyms for 'evil' or 'villainous'. Corbyn is variously described as 'ideologically inconsistent', 'obsessed with ideological purity', 'Marxist', 'Trotsykist', 'committed to Stalinism', and 'anarchist'. These words have incompatible meanings which you would expect a supposed former leftist to understand; Bower's 'ex-Marxist' backstory reminded me of the unconvincing 'ex-atheist' backstories encountered in works of Christian apologetics. If he genuinely was Tommy the Red, my assumption is that he was motivated by teenage rebellion and a temporary dislike of middle class Britain, and he is projecting those remembered feelings onto Corbyn & co.

The book's subtitle is 'Corbyn's Ruthless Plot for Power'. As a result, Corbyn's lack of both ruthlessness and ambition for power throughout are hilarious recurring themes. Bower repeatedly tells us that Corbyn is ruthless without backing this up; often he clunkily adds implied ruthlessness when it manifestly isn't there.

'Lenin would have expected him to act ruthlessly, but... <proceeds to describe a lack of ruthlessness>'

It is clear throughout that Corbyn is not power-hungry. He was quite happy as a backbench MP focused on his constituency and protesting global injustices; he had never aspired for ministerial positions or put in the work to develop policies. In 2012, he was considering retiring to Wiltshire to focus on beekeeping and growing vegetables. On page 311 out of 348, describing the 2017 election campaign, Bower says:

'The campaign had transformed Corbyn himself. The veteran protester understood that politics was no longer just a series of battles within the Labour Party, but actually about winning real power. His new ambition was to become prime minister.'

It is on page 311 out of 348 of a book supposedly about 'Corbyn's Ruthless Plot for Power' that Corbyn is first described as wanting power.

The book ends with what is meant to be a mic-drop by Bower, but it is such a failure of a mic drop that it perfectly illustrates how lazy and perfidious the book is. Bower does not believe that 'The Ballad of Reading Gaol' is Corbyn's favourite poem, as he has claimed in interviews.

'His enthusiasm for it was dubious, not least because Wilde himself was no believer in socialism.'

Bower then closes the book with a part of the poem which ends with,

'For none can tell to what red Hell
His sightless soul may stray.'

The implication is that Wilde was somehow warning of a socialist hellscape like the USSR, but the poem is about someone being executed by hanging at Reading Gaol, the British prison, and the 'red Hell' refers to - you know, well - the afterlife hell to which 'his sightless soul may stray', not to socialism.

That's not the worst of it. After reading this I had to look around for a bit thinking I was going mad or had fallen into a parallel universe. Hadn't Wilde wrote an essay advocating socialism? The Soul of Man Under Socialism? Wasn't this essay a socialist classic?

'Socialism, Communism, or whatever one chooses to call it, by converting private property into public wealth, and substituting co-operation for competition, will restore society to its proper condition of a thoroughly healthy organism, and insure the material well-being of each member of the community.'

Either Bower didn't bother to check Wilde's views on socialism (even just by Googling 'Wilde socialism'), or he doesn't care, because it doesn't matter if the book is truthful or accurate: its only purpose is to damage Corbyn's reputation.

There are of course grains of truth in the book, as there was in other Corbyn coverage, (I think it is quite clear that Corbyn's administration would have been disappointing, that the bond market would have savaged him, that he was out of his depth as leader, that he had some weird views, and that there was a serious anti-Semitism crisis*) but they are so thoroughly buried in falsehood and hyperbole that it becomes easy to dismiss it all as smears and nonsense. Those hoping for an accurate insight into Corbyn and his leadership would best look elsewhere.

*When Corbyn was leader, I had absorbed, from friends and social media, the narrative that the anti-Semitism crisis was largely an Establishment smear against Labour and Corbyn. I wasn't following politics or the story very assiduously, and I wasn't on social media that often. However, by the time Rebecca Long-Bailey was sacked from the Shadow Cabinet, I was on social media more often, and on the day of her sacking I saw a huge explosion of anti-Semitic comments and posts from leftwing sources. This was a moment of Great Disillusionment for me, the scales fell from my eyes.

Saturday 21 August 2021

'Terrorism and Communism' by Leon Trotsky

One leftwing narrative about the Russian Revolution is that in its early years the Soviet State was doing good work creating a better society, but then Stalin came along and ruined it. Back in 2017, I went to a book event where the author/speaker made this argument - I bought his book, but have not read it yet (nor have I read the other books on the revolution which I purchased that year). The author described himself as a Trotskyist.

Trotsky was one of the organisers of the 1917 Bolshevik Revolution, and then became leader of the Red Army. After the Revolution, Russia quit WW1 and Civil War broke out, chiefly between the Communist Reds and the Anti-Revolutionary Whites, with various smaller groups also being involved (many leftwing groups did not like the Bolsheviks). Trotsky was ousted during Stalin's rise, and spent the rest of his life in exile, before being assassinated by a Soviet agent in Mexico in 1940. 

In Animal Farm, the character Snowball is largely based on Trotsky, a sympathetic portrayal that follows the narrative that the revolution started well but was ruined by Stalin, represented by Napoleon. One of Trotsky's later books, which seems to have popularised this narrative, is The Revolution Betrayed (1937).

Terrorism and Communism (1920) is Trotsky's defence of political violence - it is also one of the very few of his books that is still in print by a major publisher, and comes with a long introduction by Slavoj Žižek. I posted in a leftist Facebook group that I was reading it, and a few people commented, saying it was 'one of Trotsky's best' and 'an absolute banger'.

This context should hopefully explain why I went it into expecting, despite the controversial title and subject matter, to feel some positivity towards it. Instead, I bounced off it so hard I almost ended up a Thatcherite; indeed, I was left thinking I would much rather have the Tories in power than Trotskyists.

At times, I wanted to hit my head against a wall, and once I imagined myself looking to camera and saying, "Wow, this is garbage."

In hindsight, it should not have been so surprising that I hated it. On the Political Compass, Trotsky is Authoritarian Left. My instincts place me in Libertarian Left: my radical sympathies lie more with anarchism rather than Bolshevism. In leftwing groups, a frequent topic of discussion is uniting the fractious Left against the more united Right, but many argue that there are irreconcilable differences between Authoritarian and Libertarian leftists, which make such an alliance impossible to maintain: anarchists and communists were enemies in both the Russian and Spanish Civil Wars.

(The Political Compass is a simplification, and has probably had negative impacts on political discourse, but it's a fun simplification and has led to some good memes.)

Trotsky is good at describing flaws in parliamentary democracy: the political and legal equality of the wealthy capitalist and the poor labourer, both having one vote in elections, is mystical nonsense. It does not take account of economic realities and the ways the political and legal system is biased in favour of the wealthy, who can use their wealth to influence politics and get away with criminality ('Punishable by a fine' translates to 'Legal for rich people'). Thus, with political power concentrated in the hands of wealthy, and the workers only having insignificant or indeed illusory power, you might describe liberal democracy as a 'dictatorship of the bourgeoisie' - therefore, the solution is to trash this false democracy and put in place a 'dictatorship of the proletariat', where political power is held by workers, represented by the Communist Party, the only political party. 

It is not the job of the communists - the class-conscious and politically advanced vanguard of the working class - to represent majority opinion, but to create it, by elevating the understanding of the rest of the population and proving how good communism is. Eventually, the rest of the working class, and the re-educated remnants of the bourgeoisie, will understand that the communists were right all along.

The criticisms of parliamentary democracy are strong - and you can find echoes of them across all sorts of media right up to the present day. I was specifically reminded of Isabel Hardman's Why We Get The Wrong Politicians (2018) and Martin Williams' Parliament Ltd (2016), among many other works. His explanation of the 'dictatorship of the proletariat' made me understand this doctrine better, though I think the flaws in it are quite evident.

Some of Trotsky's arguments in defence of political violence are quite standard, and could be used by adherents of any political position: sometimes, when your political opponents are uncompromising, inconvincible, and repressive, violence is the only way to topple them. When you are a new and fragile regime, surrounded by enemies within and without, violence is inevitably necessary to maintain control and defend the revolution. 

Trotsky uses various examples of political violence throughout history to make his point; today, we might use the example of the Rebel Alliance in Star Wars. Of course their violence was necessary to overthrow the Galactic Empire! Unfortunately the sequel trilogy did not explore the rebels' difficulties in establishing the New Republic: this is covered in books I have no intention to read.

So we can agree that violence is sometimes necessary. If we were to then agree that liberal democracy is a dictatorship of one class over the rest, and that the interests of the ruling class are directly antagonistic and irreconcilable to those below it, then we can see how easy it is to justify a violent insurrection and subsequent reign of terror.

'As long as class society, founded on the most deep-rooted antagonisms, continues to exist, repression remains a necessary means of breaking the will of the opposing side... The question as to who is to rule the country, i.e., of the life or death of the bourgeoisie, will be decided on either side, not by references to the paragraphs of the constitution, but by the employment of all forms of violence... [There is] in history no other way of breaking the class will of the enemy except the systematic and energetic use of violence.'

It's a recurring theme in history, and popular media, that revolutions end up recreating the old order with new faces in charge. Some descriptions of Tsarist Russia from the 1800s can be mistaken for descriptions of Soviet Russia, for example this one by the Marquis de Custine, who visited in 1838:

'It is a country in which the government says what it pleases, because it alone has the right to speak. In Russia fear replaces, that is paralyses, thought... Nor in this country is historical truth any better respected than the sanctity of oaths... even the dead are exposed to the fantasies of him who rules the living.'

Trotsky defends the Soviets against charges that they are using exactly the same tactics as tsarism by pointing out that the Soviets are doing it to the bad guys, the capitalists, the landlords, the bourgeoisie - not the good guys, the proletariat. 

'Do you grasp this... distinction? Yes? For us Communists it is quite sufficient.' 

'Who aims at the end cannot reject the means.'

The end goal is, of course, a socialist utopia. The Soviet state is described as the transition towards true socialism, when the state 'will have melted away entirely into a producing and consuming commune'. This is where Trotsky sounds most like a religious fanatic awaiting his preferred apocalypse. Actually, 'awaiting' is perhaps the wrong word, since in his mind the Marxist apocalypse is already here: he is living through it. As the Christian Heaven on Earth is preceded by Armageddon, the final battle between Light and Dark, so too is True Socialism preceded by the Revolutionary Epoch, the final battle between Proletariat and Bourgeoisie:

'The road to socialism lies through a period of the highest possible intensification of the state. And you and I are just passing through that period. Just as a lamp, before going out, shoots up in a brilliant flame, so the state, before disappearing, assumes the form of the dictatorship of the proletariat, i.e., the most ruthless form of state, which embraces the life of the citizens authoritatively in every direction... civilised humanity has entered a revolutionary epoch; all the capitalist countries are speeding towards colossal disturbances and an open class war; and the task of the revolutionary representatives of the proletariat is to prepare for that inevitable and approaching war the necessary spiritual armoury and buttress of organisation.'

During the transitional stage, forced labour is necessary. Trotsky uses a few arguments to justify this. In wartime, it is fairly standard for states to conscript soldiers; it is necessary for the defence of the realm. The communists are extending this principle to the militarisation of labour: as conscripting soldiers in wartime is necessary and acceptable, why not the rest of the labour force? Furthermore, labour under capitalism was wage slavery, made compulsory by the forces of economic necessity: 'freedom of labour' was a lie. 

By contrast, forced labour under communism is honest about the compulsion, and besides, at least the workers were now working for the Communist Party, who have their interests in mind, not some heartless capitalist; and at least the compulsion is only temporary during this transitional stage. Once we reach True Socialism 'there will be no compulsion... under socialism we shall be moved by the feeling of duty, the habit of working, the attractiveness of labour, etc, etc... under socialism there will not exist the apparatus of compulsion itself, namely, the state.'

'As all must eat, all are obliged to work. Compulsory labour service is sketched into our constitution and our labour code.'

'The worker does not merely bargain with the Soviet state: no, he is subordinated to the Soviet state, under its orders in every direction - for it is his state.' 

Trotsky defends the Soviets against the charge that they are slave state no better than the Egyptian regime who used slaves to build the pyramids by pointing out that the Egyptian slaves were working in the Pharaoh's interests, while the Soviet workers are working in the interests of the workers, as represented by the Communist Party.

Parts of this book make Trotsky sound like someone who has never organised any industry or enterprise before, trying to explain why practices he and his mates had previously being railing against have persisted after the revolution. These are the funniest parts of the book, because he's defending practices associated with capitalism while desperately trying to rebrand them.

For example, he describes the importance of 'rivalry' in boosting economic production. He wants us to believe that this 'rivalry' is different to capitalist competition. Under socialism, 'rivalry will acquire an ever less selfish and purely idealist character. It will express itself in striving to perform the greatest possible service for one's village, region, town, or the whole of society, and to receive in return renown, gratitude, sympathy, or just internal satisfaction from the consciousness of work well done. But in the difficult period of transition... rivalry must inevitably be to a greater or lesser degree bound up with a striving to guarantee for oneself one's own requirements.' He also explains why some people need to be paid more than others, if they've 'done more for the general interest' than the lazy, careless, or disorganised.

Elsewhere, he defends 'One-Man Management' of factories against critics who argue the factories should be under the control of the workers themselves. Trotsky argues that (a) the factories are controlled by representatives of the Communist Party, who represent the working class, therefore the factories are actually under worker control; and (b) one-man management is more efficient, because it means a single person is ultimately responsible and accountable for the factory; and besides, if a worker is interested in management, perhaps one day when they're a bit more experienced they can earn a promotion and become a manager themselves!

'The foremost, intelligent, determined administrator naturally strives to take the factory into his hands as a whole, and to show both to himself and to others that he can carry out his work.' Gee, I wonder what it would be like if that administrator owned the factory.

To understand how Trotsky got to these views, we do need to understand him in historical context. This book was written during the Russian Civil War, after the great conflagration of the First World War. His views were shaped by the traumas of war and political repression under the Tsar. After the revolution, the Bolshevik regime was fighting off enemies on multiple fronts while trying to figure out how to govern effectively and bring about socialism. It is also worth reflecting on how terrible the conditions of the working classes were globally at that time, and also specifically in Russia under the Tsar. Add in Marx's and others' many criticisms of capitalism, many of which still hold up.

Communism, like Christianity 2000 years ago, offered people radical hope for a better world following an imminent apocalypse. The Communist Manifesto's famous finale, 'The proletarians have nothing to lose but their chains. They have a world to win.' is not so effective these days in the developed world: most people can point to many things they could lose other than metaphorical chains; we live lives of relative comfort, both in the global picture and certainly compared to the working classes of a century ago.

However, I can certainly understand communism's appeal when you're living in a slum, when you have long working hours in terrible conditions and a dead-end job with no hope of advancement or change. If you're already living under wage slavery, why not communist slavery? At least that's only temporary while you wait for Heaven on Earth.

I did not find this book 'an absolute banger'; I found it relentlessly tedious, unpleasant, and nonsensical. I can certainly understand wanting and hoping for a better system than what we have now, but the answer - if this book, supposedly 'one of Trotsky's best', is anything to go by - is not to be found in Trotskyism.

Sunday 15 August 2021

'Politics: Between the Extremes' by Nick Clegg

I went into this with a mixture of feelings about Nick Clegg. I voted for the first time in 2010, and it was for the Liberal Democrats. I was intensely politically ignorant, not understanding or knowing much about our political system or the different parties, and barely following the news, but I had absorbed some of the 'Cleggmania' in the air. Later, I absorbed the feelings of betrayal that surrounded the Coalition and the tuition fees debacle, and all the negative feelings towards Clegg among students (I was a student at this time). 


Later still, I developed a mental image of Clegg as someone naïve and completely out of his depth in government and media management - this mental image of Clegg was a sympathetic one, and was born out of a belief that the intense hatred directed at him following the tuition fees debacle was probably excessive. I also have a strong impulse to want to believe the best in people, that people make mistakes but are generally trying to do good - this makes me want to avoid villainous caricatures and try to understand people as flawed humans where possible, although I appreciate some people are just dickheads.

I came out of Clegg's book with a far more negative view of him; the book constantly frustrated me. The leftist meme 'Liberalism: The Highest Stage of Cringe' came to mind a lot. Clegg comes across as overconfident, smug, and dismissive towards people who don't share his views. He characterises non-liberals as over-emotional, irrational, illogical, unrealistic, extreme, in contrast to the Liberal Democrats' rational, moderate, logical, realistic politics. He derides 'populism' on the left and right, but also admits to having used populist strategies in 2010, which led to Cleggmania. However, he thinks it was fine for him to do this because he's a reasonable, rational, logical Lib Dem, in contrast to today's over-emotional and irrational populists, and besides, it wasn't his fault if the voters had irrational and unrealistic beliefs which they projected onto him, was it?

'I felt at the time that I was becoming a screen onto which people were projecting their hopes and aspirations, some of which were not realistic. A gap opened up between who I was and what my supporters imagined me to be.'

The words 'rational', 'reasonable', 'realistic', 'logical' and similar cropped up so frequently when describing the Lib Dem position that it became a running joke in my head, and I was tempted to go through the book highlighting them all. Clegg comes across as one of those people who thinks everyone else is irrational and illogical but him; he fails to understand how his values and biases alter his perception of what is logical, realistic, rational. In another life, Clegg might have been a Shapiro-esque character telling voters that facts don't care about their feelings - hell, there's even a subcategory of racists who call themselves 'race realists', and argue that their racism is grounded in logic, reason, realism, rationality. Simply describing your political views as logical, realistic, rational, and reasonable, does not mean they will seem that way to someone else.

The idea of the Lib Dems as the party of reasonable, rational, logical policies - in contrast to over-emotional populists and the two major parties - goes completely out of the window when we get to his explanation for the tuition fees debacle. It turns out that many of the Lib Dem higher ups had serious misgivings about the policy of reducing or scrapping tuition fees - Clegg thought it was unrealistic; Vince Cable thought it was 'fiscally incredible' and 'financially unsustainable'. However, they were unable to convince the (presumably over-emotional, irrational, illogical) wider party, so it was put in the manifesto and was part of their campaigning. 

Students were a demographic where the Lib Dems were especially popular; Lib Dem MPs signed a pledge promising to vote against tuition fee increases, and Clegg made online videos advocating a policy he thought was absurd, irrational, illogical, unrealistic. Almost like he was a populist anti-establishment politician using unrealistic policies to win votes.

According to other accounts of the coalition, Clegg was warned (by George Osbourne no less) that supporting increasing fees would be political suicide for the Lib Dems, and he was given the option to abstain on the vote. In this book, Clegg does not mention that he was given this advice or option; he simply insists that raising the fees was the rational, realistic, logical thing to do. 

You can certainly make the argument, as Clegg does, that raising both the fees and the earning threshold did improve universities, increase student numbers, and was effectively a graduate tax for higher earners - but the optics of Clegg's tuition fees decision was terrible: Nick Clegg, the Betrayer, leader of the spineless, treacherous Lib Dems, who would dispense with their principles for a taste of power. One of Clegg's 2010 party political broadcasts had him saying NO MORE BROKEN PROMISES - the Lib Dems are still thought of by many as the Party of Broken Promises.

The Conservatives took most of the credit for the Lib Dems policies that were implemented and were popular - such as raising the Income Tax Personal Allowance, which was featured heavily in the Conservative 2015 campaign. I had a personal encounter with a Tory using it as an argument in their favour. 

Clegg was utterly naive about media management, publicity, propaganda - he assumed truthful information about the work he was doing would flow naturally out of government and inform people about everything the Lib Dems were up to. Instead, hardly anyone knew what they were doing, which made them look pointless. I could not believe that Clegg - by this time he was in his 40s, had been an MP for five years and leader of his party for three - could be that monstrously ignorant both of the importance of the media in creating political narratives and of the biases of the British media.

Clegg's explanation of his reasons for going into Coalition are convincing; there was no good outcome, and arguably coalition may have been the best outcome of a bad bunch, especially if the Lib Dems managed to implement some of their policies. Although, I can't help but wonder which of Clegg's choices, if made differently, led to a far better alternative present - which of his decisions damned us to the darkest timeline? That'd be a fun episode of Marvel's 'What If...?' 

They made holding a referendum on electoral reform a core point of the Coalition Agreement, because such reforms could benefit the party in future. However, he did not think too much about the optics of the anti-establishment party appearing so enthusiastic about teaming up with the party most associated with the establishment - to him, the coalition was the reasonable, rational, logical thing to do.

'But what seemed logical to me appeared deeply unsettling to many people who had voted for the Liberal Democrats...' 

A chapter is devoted to the difficulties faced by the Lib Dems trying to implement electoral and House of Lords reform. Clegg imagines himself continuing the reformist Liberal tradition, from Earl Grey's Great Reform Act to Lloyd George's post-WW1 expansion of the electorate; however, he fails to reflect on the circumstances that surrounded those earlier reforms. Those reforms were implemented due to huge public pressure, protest, and fear of outright revolution. 

The initial blocking of Earl Grey's Reform Act by the House of Lords led to riots across the country (Nottingham Castle was burnt down in the Reform Riots - it was owned by a Tory who was very vocal in his opposition to reform); the suffragists and suffragettes had long campaigns, and in the aftermath of both WW1 and the Russian Revolution, political reform was a way to calm an angry populace who had come home from war only to live in slums and have no say over their government. The MPs advocating those earlier reforms could get the doubters on side by arguing that the alternative might be full blown revolution.

During the electoral reform referendum, both the Conservatives and Labour supported the No campaign, and the by-then deeply unpopular Lib Dems were the face of Yes. There was no wider public pressure for reform. The No campaign used Clegg's unpopularity in their campaign, and 'the dream of electoral reform was crushed.'

Clegg's failure to reflect on the circumstances around earlier reforms makes his obvious conclusion sound ignorant:

'The fact that the British political system appears to be so immune to change - and so in hock to the vested interest of the two larger parties - will only strengthen the hand of populists who argue that real change requires more extreme action. The more the vested interests in Westminster set their face against overdue reform, the more ferocious the reaction to mainstream politics will become.'

No shit, Nick, but having the threat of such extreme action happening is probably the only way to get enough MPs to pay attention. It was what led to the earlier reforms, after all - not a mild-mannered and unpopular politician politely asking his colleagues to do the logical, reasonable, rational thing, but a warning that if the people's demands weren't met, the alternative to reform would be much worse. I'd prefer this not to be the case, but history, and Clegg's own tale, argue otherwise.

Other accounts of the coalition describe the Tories being shocked at the naivety of the Lib Dems: how willing they were to go into coalition, how much they were willing to compromise to get a few of their policies implemented, and how little they seemed to think about the electoral costs of coalition. After the signing of the Coalition Agreement, William Hague went home and said to his wife, "Well, we have formed a government, but we might well have destroyed the Liberal Party."

A chapter is devoted to the history of coalition governments in various countries; Clegg lists example after example of coalition governments ending disastrously for the minor party. Sometimes the minor party rebounds in popularity, gets into coalition again, and then once again it is punished at the next election. The few examples he lists of minor parties being rewarded electorally for going into coalition are when both parties are on the left. This is exactly the stuff that the Tories are elsewhere described as having been shocked that the Lib Dems didn't know about when agreeing to coalition - since their main goal in government was to reform the voting system in such a way that would make coalitions more likely, it was bizarre that they didn't know much about how coalitioning parties faired elsewhere.

Another chapter is devoted to the relationship of the Lib Dems with the two main parties. This involves Clegg reflecting on how his politics was shaped by the his early years as an MP, and how this contrasted with other, older Lib Dem MPs, who hated going into coalition with the Tories. The Lib Dems of Clegg's age built up relationships with the Tories during their time opposing New Labour together, in defence of civil liberties against War On Terror legislation - this was 'one of the early bonds that kept the later coalition together'. Older Lib Dems - who were there for the SDP breaking away from Labour, and then merging with the Liberal Party to form the Liberal Democrats - retain a fondness for Labour, hoping for an anti-Conservative alliance with them, and perhaps eventual coalescence if the differences can be overcome. This was an interesting exploration of how political views and biases are shaped by differing life experiences.

In 2015, the main selling point of the Lib Dems was that they would prevent either of the two major parties from being too extreme in their opposite directions. In 2010, their campaign had argued that Labour and the Conservatives were too similar to each other and it was time for change; in 5 years, the Lib Dems had gone from the party demanding change to the party that was scared of the other parties changing things too much, a support-destroying strategy if ever there was one. Clegg's political career is over, and the Lib Dems have, as yet, failed to bounce back. Indeed, 'Lib Dem Fightback' became a meme, and I don't even know off the top of my head who their leader is these days (I just Googled it: Ed Davey, apparently).

Last year, I read books by Margaret Thatcher, Tony Blair, and Alistair Darling, and I came out of them with a grudging respect for, and a greater appreciation of, them as flawed individuals, limited in their knowledge and experiences, doing their best based on the values they believed in - despite my disagreements with, and reservations about, each of them. Nick Clegg's book, however, pleasantly written and largely enjoyable as it is, has surprised me by making me feel far more negatively towards him than I did before.

The next political book I'll write about here will be by a very different figure to Clegg - not someone 'Between the Extremes', but someone very firmly ON an extreme. Tune in next time!



Friday 23 July 2021

'The Road to Wigan Pier' by George Orwell

My favourite George Orwell book (so far)!

The first half is descriptions of working class life in poor areas in the 1930s; at the time it was excellent reportage, now it is excellent social history. Especially interesting from my local history perspective were chapters on slums and slum clearances. A shocking amount of what he describes, especially about people's attitudes and lifestyles, is still extremely relevant and resonant - material conditions change, but people stay the same.

The second half is more abstract. Orwell analyses the British class system, and then moans about the many ways leftwing movements are failing to engage people. On this latter topic, Orwell is very funny - he has clearly been exasperated by many an insufferable leftist - and a lot of his criticisms still hold up: leftwing movements being characterised by eccentric cranks; obsessing over tedious and verbose Marxist theory; failing to understand the mentalities of the people they are trying to convert (instead demonising or ridiculing them); all in all, failing to market themselves effectively to the people who ought to be joining them. This all frustrates him so much because he is himself a socialist, and can imagine the movement being so much better if it wasn't dominated by cranks.

I was reminded of a recentish tweet by the Youtuber Thought Slime: "People who become right wing because they get annoyed by leftists are weak willed, most leftists are annoyed by leftists every single day."

Material conditions change, but people stay the same.

Sunday 4 July 2021

'Red Famine' by Anne Applebaum

My grandparents came from Ukraine, arriving in Britain after WW2. I went to Ukrainian school on Saturdays until I was 12, though I hated it: I was consistently the worst in my class, by a huge margin, largely because outside of Ukrainian school I would not be speaking Ukrainian, while many of the other children would be speaking Ukrainian a lot at home with their parents. I felt like my Saturdays were being wasted on a humiliating and dispiriting chore which made me feel stupid (the impatience of the teachers at my struggling didn’t help). I was overjoyed when I was finally able to stop going.

(I credit the disparity between doing well at English school and doing poorly at Ukrainian to in some part to making me less arrogant than I may otherwise have been, and more able to empathize with those who struggled to understand things that came quite easily to me.)


On the odd occasions when we went to church, the services were in Ukrainian, and so I had no idea what the priest was talking about, and it felt like we were just arbitrarily standing up and sitting down. It all felt very confusing and pointless.

Consequently, I have generally felt quite disconnected from my Ukrainian heritage; it has basically been reduced to it being a fun fact about the origin of my surname. I have never been to Ukraine, don’t know much about it, and “Ukrainianness” became a very, very, very small part of my identity as I grew up. I can read Cyrillic, and I know some words and phrases, but I never got more than an extremely basic grasp of the language – and that has since faded. I celebrate Ukrainian Christmas and occasionally eat verenyky (potato dumplings), and that’s about it – other than a lingering sense that I should know about Ukraine, its history and culture.

My grandparents didn’t talk much about their experiences before coming to Britain. I know they were peasants in Ukraine, and that some relatives had died in the Holodomor, the Soviet famine in Ukraine in the 1930s. After the Nazis conquered Ukraine in WW2, my grandparents were moved to Germany as forced labourers, and ended up in an area controlled by Britain when the war ended. Britain was in ruins and had a significant labour shortage – a large proportion of its working age people had died in the war – so workers were being imported. And so my grandparents came to Britain.

Anne Applebaum’s ‘Red Famine’ was a revelatory book for me, putting my upbringing and what little I know of my family history into a proper context.

Soviet terror in Ukraine was especially brutal; the Communist Party believed that a successful nationalist, separatist movement in Ukraine would precipitate the collapse of the USSR, and therefore it must absolutely be crushed. The Ukrainian language was suppressed, Ukrainian churches destroyed, village dancing banned. The Soviets wanted to wipe out Ukrainian culture to destroy the national movement and with it the threat of separatism; the old backward peasant culture would be replaced with a new Soviet culture that wouldn’t threaten the bloc’s stability.

Ukraine is an extremely fertile country, but a series of decisions by the Communist party meant that very little food was produced 1931-33, and most of what was produced was seized and exported to Russia or abroad: Moscow needed money, and wanted to have large food exports to show the West how successful communism was. The severity of the famine was denied and downplayed, and efforts at famine relief were blocked. The peasantry that were dying, the communists told themselves, were counter-revolutionaries who deserved their fate.

Applebaum’s chapters on the peak of the famine are very hard-hitting. She blends the overarching narrative of the huge, widespread Terror-Famine, which is difficult to comprehend in its scale and callousness, with witness testimonies which bring it down to a brutal, understandable human level of everyday horror in the famine years, when bodies littered the streets and people resorted to cannibalism.

Allegedly, it was Stalin, referring to the famine in Ukraine, who said, “If only one man dies of hunger, that is a tragedy. If millions die, that’s only statistics.” Applebaum ensures that you do not lose sight of all the manifold individual tragedies that occurred in Ukraine during the famine, which is a difficult thing to achieve when talking about deaths and horror at such scale.

It is no wonder my grandparents did not talk much about their lives before they came to Britain.

Thursday 10 June 2021

'City' by Clifford D. Simak

'City' is a fun collection of retro SF written in the 1940s and 50s, charting the future of the earth from the 1990s to thousands of years in the future when humanity is gone and intelligent Dogs consider Man a myth.

The stories are presented as mythological tales popular in Dog culture and each are accompanied by a brief introduction discussing the potential historicity of the story and the various disputes and interpretations among Dog academics (some of the Dog scholars mentioned have names such as Bounce and Rover).

The stories are very retro, though the first page of the first story did give me the feeling of reading a rough draft of the present: a man sits on his lawn while a robot lawn mower cuts his grass, while a kid 'settles down for a twitch session'. The stories exhibit many of the flaws typical SF from the period. There are no women characters that I can recall.

However, unlike many retro SF stories, these do have a lot of emotion in them. Simak was entering middle age when writing these stories, and the emotions he was feeling about his youth gone and old age approaching oversaturate the book. Each story has a character, usually the protagonist, who is middle age and is constantly reflecting on things past and things to come; in later stories the Middle Aged Man archetype takes the form of a rusting robot and then a middle aged Dog. This does make the stories rather repetitive, but also adds to their charm.

Simak is one of those authors who was popular and influential in his day but is not so widely read nowadays. The influence of his Dogs can be felt in the various 'intelligent pet descendants' across SF - the Cats of 'Red Dwarf' spring to mind, and I have a vague recollection of an episode of 'Samurai Jack' featuring Dog academics trying to learn about their ancestors who were pets to humans.

I would recommend this book for those interested in the history of SF, and those who find retro SF a tasty and comforting literary snack.

Saturday 22 May 2021

'Hearts and Minds' by Oliver Letwin

Took me quite a few months of dipping in and out to read this book. It's quite a dry read; part memoir (Letwin is a former Conservative MP and minister), and part history of the Conservative party from the shift towards Monetarism/Thatcherism to the 2017 election, with reflections on what went well and wrong.

On the whole, Letwin comes across well; the book is clearly aimed at politics nerds, not the general public, and feels refreshingly honest, like a politician talking to another politician in private, without fear of losing reputation by saying the wrong thing. By the time of writing, Letwin had been sacked from the Cabinet by Theresa May, and so was no longer in the centre of government, but he had not yet rebelled against the government during the Brexit votes (which eventually led to him being expelled from the party).

The experience of reading this book was often frustrating, because while Letwin gave the impression of being a well-meaning and compassionate guy, he has been shaped by the frankly shocking amount of privilege he grew up with and has been surrounded with for his entire life.

When discussing 'The Intellectual Origins of Thatcherism', he remarks that the story is also his own intellectual origins, because his parents were well-connected rightwing economists with many influential friends in politics. His parents were friends with Milton Friedman; he shares an anecdote of the future Nobel laureate teaching him some free market economics when he was a child. This is all described very casually, as though having such wealthy and well-connected parents is standard; indeed, I gets the impression that for most of his social circle throughout his life, it probably is the norm.

Letwin describes how he got his first job in politics. Keith Joseph, then Education Secretary, was a friend of his parents. Joseph was round for dinner, and Letwin had recently finished university, and Joseph offered him a job at the Department for Education.

Inspirational.

Later, he transfers to the Policy Unit, and casually remarks that his new boss was another friend of his parents. This does not warrant reflection on his own lucky circumstances, or on the insular culture of Westminster politics.

He does, however, reflect on why free market policies have made many people's lives worse. Thatcherite ideas were thought up by a bunch of rich people whose blissful ignorance of what living in poverty was like meant that the actual lived reality of poor people was excluded from their economic modelling, which largely assumed that 'economic freedom' ('Free to Choose' is the title of a Friedman book) applied to everyone equally, conveniently ignoring how much poverty limits people's freedom and choices. Such economic beliefs, which assume equal freedom between individuals, therefore lead to the false narrative that poverty is due to individual choice and personal failings.

'The attachments of the party to free market theory had unnecessarily become a reason for placing far too little emphasis on social justice, and that this in turn gave the party the appearance of callousness.'

Later chapters of the book - which deal with Letwin's experience in government after 2010, are rather more tedious, with descriptions of a lot of bureaucracy, meetings, discussions, phone calls, showing how extremely tedious a lot of political work is.

While reflecting on the Coalition, Letwin remarks that he found himself having far more in common with the Lib Dems than those further right in the Conservative Party, highlighting that the two major parties are already coalitions of different groups - hence the ongoing Labour civil war, and how different Letwin feels compared to today's Conservative party (which Letwin was kicked out of), dominated as it now is by a different faction.

Overall, I found this an informative look at politics 'behind the scenes' from the refreshing (to me) perspective of a reflective Tory who means well but who has been shaped by, and whose worldview has therefore been limited by, a life of wealth and privilege.

Thursday 20 May 2021

'Panodrama' by Tommy Robinson/Stephen Yaxley-Lennon

 

I watched Tommy Robinson’s/Stephen Yaxley-Lennon’s ‘Panodrama’ documentary last night.

Wait. Don’t panic. Hear me out.

It’s a fascinating piece of filmmaking.

The story follows Robinson, fresh out of prison (in his mythology, he was imprisoned for doing nothing wrong except being an anti-establishment hero of the working class) worried about a planned BBC Panorama documentary about him, and coming up with a plan to bring it down, to expose ‘that it’s scripted, that they lie, that they clip, that they invent things, that they edit… the tactics they use to get the narrative they want.’

We are expected to trust him as an ordinary bloke fighting the establishment, and he is undoubtedly a charismatic figure: it is easy to see why he developed such a following and fanbase. His presentation style is charming, a relatable everyman, somewhat like a blend of Bradley Walsh and Dominic Littlewood.

The plan involves Lucy Brown, one of Robinson’s colleagues, agreeing to meet with Panorama journalist John Sweeney while secretly recording their conversation. They come up with the plan during a natural chat at Brown’s dinner table. A natural, unscripted chat between two ordinary people – with two cameras set up for shot/reverse shot, and don’t forget the off-camera lighting kit. The scene, while presented as natural, is inevitably partially scripted, perhaps a recreation of an actual chat they had, or a condensing of multiple conversations in different formats across days or weeks.

Brown’s meeting with Sweeney takes place at a pub, where a lot of alcohol is consumed – when paying the £220 bill, Sweeney brags that he is on expenses for the evening. It is fairly standard for journalists to use alcohol to loosen their sources’ lips – the boozy lunches of Private Eye journalists are especially notorious. Brown is in on the game, and is using the tactic back at Sweeney, who makes several off-colour jokes and comments throughout the evening, as he himself gets increasingly drunk.

After reviewing the secretly recorded footage, Robinson contacts Panorama and agrees to an interview at a location of his choosing. Unbeknownst to the Panorama crew, the location comes with a projector screen set up, ready to show clips from the secret recording. In the gloriously theatrical finale, Robinson turns the tables on Sweeney, revealing the secret recording and questioning him about media bias and his own inappropriate comments. Having exposed the bias and hypocrisy of the liberal mainstream media, the victorious Robinson walks out. It is a beautifully done piece of theatre.

That is the main arc, but a few smaller threads are worth mentioning. Robinson has heard that Hope Not Hate, what he calls ‘a far-left extremist organisation’ have been involved with the Panorama documentary. Robinson mentions that they describe themselves as antifascist with links to antifa, ‘an organisation that leading members of the American government have called to be proscribed as a terrorist organisation.’

He meets someone whose ‘life was ruined’ by Hope Not Hate, despite him having ‘broke no law’. Tom Dupree, described in the lower third as a ‘Hope Not Hate Victim’, supposedly lost his job and his career because Hope Not Hate researchers got in touch with his employer about political opinions he had been sharing on social media about ‘the controversial stuff, immigration, Islam’. We do not get to see what his opinions and statements were: Dupree and Robinson simply reassure us that they were ‘not extremist’, ‘just speaking openly’, and ‘no hatred, just facts’. This would be far more convincing if we could see Dupree’s actual comments (and if Dupree didn’t have a strong ‘middle class white supremacist’ vibe about him), but alas that may have ruined the Innocent Victim narrative.

The crux of the Innocent Victim narrative is the point that Dupree ‘broke no law’, as though breaking the law is only reason someone should lose their job. The film conveniently omits mentioning any Diversity & Inclusion policies his employer might have had which Dupree’s comments might not have been in line with – never mind his employer’s understandable fear that Dupree’s public comments could bring the company into disrepute.

Another thread is the threats and blackmail which Robinson’s former colleagues have received from journalists. Colleagues show him threatening text messages supposedly received from journalists – others speak on the phone about such threats given in person, and even actual assault.

As part of the expose, Robinson and Brown use a website to fake a threatening text message – it appears to be from Robinson’s phone, threatening violence on Brown if she gets involved with Panorama, but we see that it was sent via text-faking website and Brown herself typed it out. The purpose of this is to show how easy such things are to fake, and how the journalists will believe it because it is part of the narrative they want to tell.

In the theatrical finale, Robinson relays these allegations of abuse and shows the threatening texts to Sweeney, while acknowledging that they are not from him but are another example of media hostility and corruption. Later on, after Robinson has questioned Sweeney over his many drunken comments, Sweeney, clearly intending it as a retaliatory ‘Gotcha!’ moment, brandishes a print-out of threatening text faked earlier, to which Tommy laughs and triumphantly declares that the text is fake and never came from his phone, all the while glancing at the camera in a ‘I told you so’ way.

Sweeney persists with the questioning, not realising how thoroughly he has been caught out. Robinson points out that the BBC would have aired the fake text uncritically – Sweeney responds that they would give him the right to reply. Robinson points out that the allegation would stick in people’s minds far more strongly than his denial.

And this is where the true magic of film comes into focus. Robinson showing how easy it is to fake texts means that the threatening texts from journalists immediately become suspicious – were these faked too? When Robinson asks Sweeney about the abuse his colleagues have received from journalists, Sweeney says he has heard the allegations but doesn’t know if they’re true etc etc, but Sweeney’s mumbled, nervous, rambling reply is not what sticks to the viewers head. The allegation sticks in the viewer’s mind more strongly than the suggestion that it might be fake.

Throughout the film, Robinson claims he is constantly clipped out of context by the media. And then he does this same thing against Sweeney, clipping choice sentences out of the hours-long conversation with Brown, and questioning him on it. It must be admitted that many of these lines, including use of the slur ‘woofter’ and Sweeney saying he finds it funny to annoy Greek people by speaking Turkish to them, would not be improved by context.

At one point, Sweeney gets frustrated and angrily declares that he is the journalist and he should be the one asking questions – it comes across as an entitled tantrum, as he gets a taste of his own medicine. It is very satisfying seeing Sweeney squirm and be exposed as a hypocrite; the underdog narrative is extremely well crafted and you can’t help but cheer on.

In a particularly beautiful moment, Robinson refers to Sweeney as a member of the Establishment, to which Sweeney responds that he is not a member of the Establishment and please do not say that he is. In response, Robinson plays a clip of Sweeney saying ‘people like us, in the Establishment’. Beautiful.

The film is many things: it is an expose of media manipulation techniques, but it is also itself a case study in using those techniques to construct a one sided narrative: it’s scripted, it lies, it edits, it clips, it invents things; Robinson uses these tactics to get the narrative he wants.

By focusing on media manipulation techniques, and then using them itself, the film throws everything into question. How can anything be trusted? When things are so easy to fake, how can we know what is real in our increasingly media-saturated world?

Very unintentionally, the film becomes reminiscent of the works of Philip K Dick and Christopher Priest. Robinson is our unreliable narrator; fakery and unreality are everywhere and nothing is to be trusted. Part of me was hoping for a post-credits scene showing Robinson playing with an origami unicorn.


Saturday 8 May 2021

'A Very British Coup' by Chris Mullin

This was republished a few years ago with the tagline 'the novel that foretold the rise of Corbyn': it accurately predicted the horror and outrage that many in the political class felt against a genuinely leftwing Labour leader.

The sections dealing with ruthless smear campaigns in the press are especially prescient; indeed, the fictional scenario is arguably calmer than reality, if you think back to how ridiculously hyperbolic the actual coverage of Corbyn often was, which drowned out legitimate and good faith criticisms of his leadership.

As the novel progresses, the specifics of the story become more far-fetched, especially those that lead to the government's inevitable downfall, even if the atmosphere remains believable. The weak characterisation also makes the novel rather shallow: the rightwing characters are all scheming villains in sharp contrast to the righteous leftwingers.

A couple of chapters cover strike action by a union of power workers during winter; this reads very much like the author working over his frustration at the Winter of Discontent (1979). The strike organising union boss is characterised as an establishment figure working with the CIA to bring down Labour.

The most outrageously paranoid and farfetched sentence states that the unions hadn't gone on strike during 10 years of Tory rule (the novel was published in 1982, the story starts in 1989), but as soon as a leftwing Labour government came to power, they were up for striking again to bring down the government.

This is silly enough with the context that the 1974 miner's strike had led to the Conservatives losing power. With the later context of the miner's strike during the Thatcher years, it becomes ridiculous.

A good novel but not a great one. I listened to the audio version - the narrator clearly had an absolute blast doing all the voices, which added a lot to the experience of the story.

Monday 5 April 2021

'Albion! Albion!' by Dick Morland

'Albion! Albion!' is an excellent example of SF reflecting the anxieties of the time it was written. Published in 1974, when Britain was the 'sick man of Europe', and England had a global reputation for 'the English Disease' - violent football hooliganism - the novel asks, 'How much worse could this get?'

England in the 90s, a dark and desolate place. Football Hooligans have overthrown the government and divided England into four territories controlled by the Four Clubs. The economy has continued to decline, 'slum clearance has given way to slum creation', and violence is everywhere.

The story itself is a fairly uninspiring journey through this dystopian/post-apocalyptic England.

The characters are so bland that it was easy to forget who they were. When a character from early on shows up in a later chapter, in a way that was supposed to be a dramatic reveal, I genuinely couldn't remember who he was.

The plot veers from simplistic journey to wildly overcomplicated political drama over the course of a single chapter halfway through. The character explaining everything even remarks, "It is over-complex, isn't it?"

The book is primarily enjoyable as an interesting historical piece which has some resonance to today, with its reflections on political tribalism and isolationism. Published in 1974, between Britain joining the EEC in 1973 and the first membership referendum in 1975, anxieties about Britain's post-imperial future and its relationship with Europe hang in the background throughout the novel.

Can a country accustomed to beating up other nations abroad work together as part of Europe? If not, who can it turned to? America, also an international pariah, is England's only friend - and America is far from trustworthy.

Friday 26 March 2021

'The Prince' by Machiavelli


So, I read Machiavelli (1469-1527).

Through real politicians and fictional villains, Machiavelli's influence on culture is huge. This is a fascinating little book, more nuanced than I expected from Machiavillian pop culture villains, but still a rather bleak book of realpolitik.

'Many writers have dreamed up republics and kingdoms that bear no resemblance to experience and never existed in reality; there is such a gap between how people actually live and how they ought to live that anyone who declines to behave as people do, in order to behave as they should, is schooling himself for catastrophe: if you always want to play the good man in a world where most people are not good, you'll end up badly.'

There are a number of passages that resonate with contemporary debates over fiscal policy. Machiavelli recommends tax cuts rather than public spending: tax cuts can make you appear generous to those you are taking less from, while those that receive less from you as a result are a minority who's goodwill can be sacrificed to boost your popularity among those benefitting from the tax cuts.

You can't please everyone.

'If a ruler can't avoid hatred altogether, he must try to avoid the hatred of the country as a whole, and when that proves impossible he must do everything he can to escape the hatred of the classes that wield the most power.'

And don't forget that we want to reward hard work and aspiration: 'A ruler must show that he admires achievement in others... he should reassure his subjects that they can go about their business without worrying that if they increase their wealth they'll be in danger of having it taken away from them, or that if they start up a business they'll be punitively taxed.'

This Penguin edition has an excellent introduction that puts the book in historical context, and a surprisingly fascinating discussion on the difficulties of translating the work into contemporary English.

Sunday 21 March 2021

'No Such Thing As Society' by Andy McSmith

A good overview of things that happened in Britain in the 80s, but more of a collection of reflective essays on certain topics rather than a proper history: for that, I expect we'll just have to wait until Dominic Sandbrook covers these years in his series of massive tomes.

As I was reading, it felt like the events described were in dialogue with the news, giving them extra resonance.

Learning about Princess Diana's travails while the Harry and Meghan interview was breaking news was a weird experience. As was learning about the Yorkshire Ripper - and the misogyny of the police and the press response - in the aftermath of the Sarah Everard vigil.

Events all have a incomprehendable mass of historical context behind them.


"History isn’t just something that happened in the past, but a juggernaut with faulty brakes which is intent on mowing you down.” - Nicola Barker

Wednesday 13 January 2021

'Statecraft' by Margaret Thatcher

 'I wanted to write one more book - and I wanted it to be about the future.'

'Statecraft' (2002) is Margaret Thatcher's third and final book. It contains her analysis of international trends and advice for politicians who'll have to deal with them: her 'Strategies for a Changing World.' I have no doubt this book was influential on many young policy wonks and politicos, especially those who wanted to build on Thatcher's legacy.

The book rarely mentions domestic British politics: Thatcher had once called New Labour her 'greatest achievement', because she had forced the opposition to concede defeat and embrace many of her policies. Her main criticism of New Labour, apart from its pro-EU stances, is that they spend too much: 'it is the duty of conservatives everywhere to argue for low spending'.

In 'Newswipe', Charlie Brooker compared watching the news to 'episode 389 of the world's most complex soap opera': events and characters are presented without their historical context, crises are reported on when they explode, not during their sometimes decades-long build up, making them seem random, chaotic, and unpredictable. I remember a joke (but not where it's from) about how every time the news reports on crises in the Middle East, to provide appropriate context the report should go back to at least the fall of the Ottoman Empire in World War I, if not all the way back to the Crusades.

If America wasn't the global superpower, if it was country with only minor global weight, we might have heard very little about the Trump presidency until the storming of the Capitol - this may have made the event seem random, out-of-nowhere. As it is, Trump's America has been regularly reported on for the last four years, and we have seen the steady build up leading to last week's event. It was not random; many people predicted something like this happening.

The first half of 'Statecraft' is part analysis of trends in different world regions, and partly Thatcher sharing experiences from trips abroad, complete with holiday photos. One photo is captioned: 'Walkabout with Boris Nemtsov through the centre of Nizhny Novgorod.' Her analyses contain premonitions of things which came to pass. None of it is startlingly prophetic, but it shows how our current crises were visible on the horizon decades ago, to those paying attention to foreign affairs.

She warns of 'potentially serious disputes' between Russia and Ukraine, 'especially as regards the fate of the Black Sea fleet and the future of Crimea', and between the more anti-Russian West Ukraine and the more pro-Russian East Ukraine. Russia annexed Crimea in 2014; since then, the Ukrainian Civil War, between the Ukrainian nationalists of the West and the Russia-backed separatists of the East, is ongoing.

In an entertaining chapter on her visits to China, she comes across as someone fucking sick of CCP bullshit:

'He tried to argue that democracy had failed in the West, because it had not sufficiently advanced the role of women. I looked hard at him and he moved nervously onto other ground.' 

She warns that the CCP is acting really sus around the Uighur population - they may get up to some dodgy stuff and 'will undoubtedly try to justify their repression as an aspect of the war against terrorism. We should not fall for this ploy.'

Thatcher was Prime Minister during the first Iraq War, and in her memoirs directly compares Iraq's invasion of Kuwait to Hitler's earliest expansionist experiments, which were tolerated by Western leaders hoping to avoid war. She feared that if Saddam Hussein's invasion of Kuwait wasn't met with an appropriately punishing response, he'd be encouraged to make further invasions, potentially throwing the whole region into war. In his memoirs, Blair shares this view: he, too, does not want to be remembered as a 21st century Chamberlain who failed to stop Iraq's Hitler. So it is no surprise that in 'Statecraft' Thatcher says, 'There will be no peace and security in the region until Saddam Hussein is toppled.' 

Regarding Syria, she notes that it 'has a very unpleasant regime, even if that unpleasantness is directed more against Muslims than against Westerners'. President Assad and the Syrian elites are part of a religious minority (11% of the population) violently keeping the political ambitions of the larger religious groups suppressed. Which might, you know, make them more tempted by extremism. 

Her segment on the 'Challenges of Islam' is rather nuanced, making clear that it is foolish to see Islam as monolithic, or inherently evil, or that religious terrorism is uniquely Islamic: the Hindu Tamil Tigers invented suicide bombing; she had herself survived assassination attempts by Irish Republican (Catholic) terrorists.

'As a conservative, and indeed as a Christian, I can appreciate much of what I come across when I visit Muslim countries and read of the opinions of sophisticated Muslim writers.'

She acknowledges that religion has 'often played a role in providing a twisted justification for terrorism', but counters that religion is but one of a panoply of factors - social, personal, economic, political - that can intertwine to convince people to commit terrorism. Here, she was almost writing an anticipatory rebuttal to the post-9/11 New Atheist arguments put forward by the likes of Sam Harris in 'The End of Faith' (2004) and Christopher Hitchens in 'God Is Not Great' (2007).

Regarding Saudi Arabia, the beating heart of radical Islam that pumps funding to extremist groups around the world, she is candid: 

'We should not shy away from the blunt facts of national self interest. Saudi Arabia and the Gulf states are the West's most important allies in a region which is itself the principle source of the world's oil. Any power or influence which seeks the overthrow of our allies there poses a direct threat to us.'

The second half of the book is more theoretical, and I expect has been more influential, containing chapters on Human Rights, Europe, and Capitalism.

Her Europe essays contain most of the pro-Brexit arguments we are now very familiar with, from the complaint about the EU stealing our fish to the classically hyperbolic 'EU is like Nazis':

'The Nazis spoke in terms that may strike us as eerily reminiscent of today's Euro-federalists... there is nothing necessarily benevolent about programmes of European integration... European unity has been tried before, and the outcome was far from happy.'

Britain, she argues, for reasons of history and culture, is different to continental Europe. She agrees with Charles de Gaulle, who blocked Britain's first attempted entry into the European Community:

'England is insular, maritime, linked through its trade to very diverse and often very distant countries. It has marked and original customs and traditions. The nature, structure and economic context of England differ profoundly from those of the other states of the continent.'

I do think there is some merit to this point; for years the UK has been a troublesome member of the EU. Our island history has meant that while we have been heavily influenced by the continent, and there has been considerable migration between island and mainland (our Royal Family is German), Britain has for centuries been an island on the edge of Europe, not experiencing the invasions and admixture on anything like the same scale as the continental nations, which have changed shape and invaded each other countless times over the past 1000 years, while England has not been invaded since 1066 (unless you count the Glorious Revolution). 'With Europe, but not of it', as Churchill said.

Winston Churchill is often claimed by both Remainers and Leavers as one of them: he waxed lyrical about a United Europe, but was a proud British patriot who stood up for Britain against tyranny. Thatcher explains that in post-war Britain, the political class, including Churchill, was largely in favour of continental Europe uniting, but believed that Britain should remain apart. In addition to its European allies and neighbours, Britain had its close ties with America and the Commonwealth to build on. Thus, Churchill can be imagined as pro-Brexit Europhile.

But as the post-war years progressed, the Empire crumbled, the Commonwealth lost importance, and the Suez crisis showed that America was not as reliable an ally as had been thought. Britain was declining internationally, and the seemingly dynamic and fast-growing European community appeared attractive.

Politically, Britain is more rightwing than most of continental Europe. One of our top allies during the Brexit crisis has been proto-fascist Hungary. Britain lost influence in the EU under Cameron partly because he moved Conservative MEPs from the centre-right European People's Party (EPP) to the far smaller, further right European Conservatives and Reformists (ECR), a move that disappointed Angela Merkel among others. Thatcher notes that in Europe there tends to be 'more generous social benefits than anyone in Britain, apart from those on the left of the Labour party, would normally consider appropriate to a 'safety net' and fears that the EU will 'seek to combat the 'neo-liberalism', i.e. the belief in free markets, which the French and German Finance Ministers so roundly denounced.'

Britain also has a different idea about human rights to the continent. The British tradition, via Magna Carta and the Bill of Rights 1689, is focused on 'negative' rights: the right NOT to have your property taken by the king, the right NOT to be imprisoned without trial. In contrast, the continental European view of rights, represented by the European Convention on Human Rights, is positive: 'the right to working conditions which respect his or her health, safety, and dignity.' 

Thatcher is deeply unhappy that such un-British rights have been incorporated into British law via the Human Rights Act, which should be abolished and replaced with a proper British Bill of Rights in the proper British tradition of rights which protect the wealthy from interference from the state but do nothing to protect ordinary people from being treated like dirt by their employers.

There is more than a little paranoia in her Europe essays. This comes in part from a lack of imagination and empathy. She can't put herself into the mind of someone pushing for 'positive' rights because they think they're a good thing, she imagines some sinister European plot against Britain's economy: 'Under the cover of enforcement of 'social rights' the competitive advantage of Britain's freer markets, looser state controls and lower government spending is lost... they represent an unwelcome influence in Britain's affairs, and underlying purpose is obvious - it is to reduce Britain's ability to compete successfully.'

Her paranoia crops up elsewhere throughout the book. Sinister forces such as human rights lawyers, the EU, and environmentalists are secretly trying to destroy capitalism: 'Socialism, albeit concealed and repackaged under a variety of exteriors, is a far greater danger to freedom and prosperity than many people realise.' She is skeptical about Global Warming, which she acknowledges is happening but doesn't think it's as severe as the 'doomsters' make out: 'the usual suspects on the left have been exaggerating dangers and simplifying solutions in order to press the agenda of anti-capitalism.' It is worth mentioning that Nigel Lawson, former chancellor under Thatcher, fully committed to climate change denial and wrote a whole book about it.

I will skip over the pro-Brexit arguments that I have more sympathy with: the EU's democratic deficit, the conflict between national and supra-national interests, the dangers of monetary union, the effect of the Common Agricultural Policy and Customs Union on food prices and farmers in developing countries. I should also clarify that while she thinks Britain is very different to the continent, she also thinks the continental nations are also so different to each other that the EU wouldn't work with just them.

Crucially, and indeed heavily foreshadowing the last few years, while Thatcher devotes a lot of pages to flaws in the EU, she doesn't spend very much time detailing either what Britain should have done instead of joining the European Community, or what should be done if we leave. A few options are floated: 'a policy of unilateral free trade' which she notes might be 'politically unrealistic' but 'worth discussing... because it exposes the fallacy that outside the EU Britain would be 'alone', 'isolated', 'excluded', and so on.' 

Or maybe Britain could join NAFTA (renamed North Atlantic Free Trade Area) and focus on building its relations to the US, Canada, and Mexico.

Her most speculative proposal is that Britain, with the US and other countries, could create a new global Free Trade Area.

'Ideally, of course, this would take place before Britain formally withdrew as a full member of the EU: no one wants more disruption than necessary.'

Thankfully for us, Thatcher provides sage advice for how her successors could diplomatically negotiate Britain's exit from the EU on favorable terms:

'The blunt truth is that the rest of the European Union needs us more than we need them... they know perfectly well that Britain as a European power is in a league of her own... it should be made clear right at the start that in order to secure our objectives we would be prepared, if it became necessary, to unilaterally withdraw from EU membership. This might seem at first like a provocative tactic: but it actually makes good sense.'

No deal is better than a bad deal.

I find Margaret Thatcher a fascinating character, like a real life Mrs Coulter. Her viewpoint is well argued and understandable, but there is so much missing from her analyses, however intelligent and witty they may be. Her limited life experiences and lack of imagination (as can be seen in her memoirs) leave her making some glaring errors. 

Redistributive taxation is unjust because it limits the freedom of the talented wealthy to make the most out of their hard-earned wealth. She quotes her mentor, Keith Joseph, who wrote an anti-equality book: 'There is no greater tyranny possible than denying to individuals the disposal of their own talents.' Out of context, this sounds very similar to the line by Stephen Jay Gould: “I am, somehow, less interested in the weight and convolutions of Einstein’s brain than in the near certainty that people of equal talent have lived and died in cotton fields and sweatshops.” However, Joseph is complaining that rich people's talents are mildly inconvenienced by having some of their wealth taxed, while Gould is pointing out that poor people are thoroughly denied 'the disposal of their own talents'. People who have not experienced financial difficulty, who only know poverty at theoretical distance, do not understand the limits financial insecurity places on freedom.

To be fair, she acknowledges this to an extent. 'It is right that in a developed country, where such things can be afforded, that a good basic education should be provided and proper medical care made available irrespective of families ability to pay for them... and a safety net of benefits for those who genuinely cannot cope.' Taxation and public services are a necessary evil which, so as not to threaten economic freedom, should be limited as much as possible. If those at the bottom want a better life, they need to work for it, not expect the state to help them out by inconveniencing other people with higher taxes.

'As long as all men and women are truly equal before the law, and as long as the law is effectively administered and honestly adjudicated, then however much their fortunes differ they have no right to complain that they are 'unjustly' treated. It is up to them what they do with their lives and their property. They bear the ultimate responsibility for success or failure.'

Those 'as long as' conditionals are doing an awful lot of work.