Liz Truss recently complained about a lack of ‘graft’ displayed by British workers, and it seems that, if she becomes prime minister, she may select Jacob Rees-Mogg as the Secretary of State for Levelling Up. At a time when millions of industrious citizens are confronting unearned poverty, Truss is confident that they will be happy to be insulted and patronised by those whose main distinguishing feature, in addition to their power and privilege, is their unearned income.
Despite populist attempts to divide the population on the usual issues of class and race, and the new issue of gender identity, it’s becoming clear that the emerging divide in British society is between those who expect to earn their income and those who don’t. Those who don’t include not only those with inherited wealth and power (some of whom benefit society by philanthropy) but also those who ‘earn’ stock income and bonuses far beyond their need, as directors and shareholders of major corporations. The biggest Insult to the working population is it they should be expected to pay for the profiteering of the energy companies.
The rising anger against these political and executive centres of power and wealth is in part because of their lack of social responsibility. Over the last few weeks, we have all felt the Earth heating up. Yet politicians and corporations continue to behave as the only issues that matter are short term ends of the election and the bottom line.
People’s anger is palpable. Every day we hear threats of new industrial action. Yet government regulation of the unions over the last 30 years makes it very difficult to organise a general strike. However, this new division of ‘haves’ and ‘have nots’ transcends previous class and income barriers. From bin-men to barristers, numerous groups are claiming that enough is enough. Indeed, ‘Enough is Enough’ and ‘Don’t Pay UK’ are names of organisations that comprise thousands of protestors whose only common identity is outrage at the unfairness of civil life. Six years after Brexit, government speaks of malnutrition and hypothermia as if they are the natural but unfortunate side-effects of the greed and profiteering they hold as central to their philosophy. ‘I’ll cut taxes,’ promises Liz Truss, appealing to her Tory ‘base’. But we’re all working class now.
There is growing debate in the UK about the impending hike in energy prices. The Don’t Pay UK movement is encouraging people to pledge not to pay impossibly high demands. They point out the inequity between the profits of energy companies such as BP and the disaster that millions of people this coming winter won’t be able to afford both eating and heating. This is a realistic prediction.
Some commentators cite the similarity between the coming situation and the Poll Tax protests of 1990, but point out that the energy consumer and the utility company are bound by a private legal contract which did not apply to the Poll Tax protestors. Posts on Next Door and other neighbourhood bulletin boards often express fear that protesting will result in criminal proceedings and additional costs.
The present government, in so far as it expresses a view, says that the charges derive from international market forces over which it has no control. Government is reluctant to intervene and disrupt this ‘natural’ process. They point out, for example, that energy company profits finance pension funds. Nonetheless, the profiteering of the energy corporations is sometimes recognised even in political discourse. Andrew Neil pointed out to Rishi Sunak in his recent television interview that BP were buying back their own shares to further enrich their directors and shareholders.
What should government do? Aristotle suggested that democracy can be virtuous only when it is tempered and balanced by oligarchy. Aristotle’s preference for a mixed constitution arose from his concern for the ‘common good’. He sought to protect the common good from both the predations of the demos – the ‘men without means’ – and the oligarchy. In both the UK and the US, this balance is under threat.
UK society is a mixed Aristotelian constitution of monarchy, oligarchy and democracy. The government’s role, then, is to protect the common good: not to side with the oligarchy against the demos. In a speech in 1912, Woodrow Wilson urged Americans to wrest the democratic prerogative from monopoly power: ‘If monopoly persists, monopoly will always sit at the helm of government.’ Wilson’s appeal here to the freedom of the individual man (American women didn’t gain full voting rights until 1920) draws on a traditional concept of positive freedom in a republican commonwealth. This is freedom as non-domination, described by Philip Pettit as the condition under which a person is more or less immune to interference on an arbitrary basis. Such freedom evidently cannot be pursued by individuals: it has to be guaranteed by the state.
To be unable to afford to feed one’s family and/or to heat one’s home is an extreme arbitrary interference on individual rights and freedoms. The government needs to take responsibility and, as Wilson urged, wrest the democratic prerogative from the monopoly power of corporations. If it won’t do this, the demos will refuse to pay, and civil disorder will follow.
This weekend I attended two festivals: Sustainable South Brent, in South Devon, and the Tolpuddle Martyrs, near Dorchester. It was also the weekend when we heard policy presentations from the candidates who hope to become the new Tory Prime Minister.
The policy presentations offered the same dreary supposed alternatives that have been laid out before the electors in every election I can remember. The majority of candidates proposed to cut taxes, to give people more money to spend. Rishi Sunak proposed to maintain public spending to support the NHS and social services. Almost nothing was said about the two all-consuming issues facing the world: the rising cost of living, particularly energy and food prices; and the imminence of disastrous climate change, which was also heralded on July 19th by the highest ever recorded UK nighttime temperature. Today the temperature has reached 39 degrees before noon.
For thirty years the dominant political ideology has been to respect the market as a natural phenomenon whose workings will ensure the best of all worlds. Some of the Tory candidates presented themselves as believers in traditional conservative values of low taxation to encourage investment and economic progress. What no-one said is that this neoliberal economic programme has enriched and empowered corporations, their directors and their shareholders and impoverished the mass of people who work for them. Inequality of wealth has increased exponentially over the last three decades. Millions of people in the UK will have to juggle their income to decide whether they can feed themselves or heat their homes in the winter that will follow this ominous summer. This social disaster is mentioned so often in political and media discourse that it now seems an act of nature.
Even Adam Smith feared the social effect of economic change. His many writings – not only The Wealth of Nations but also The Theory of Moral Sentiments, Philosophical Essays, Lectures on Jurisprudence and many more – were addressed to an educated ruling class who, he hoped, would mitigate the ‘invisible hand of the market’. But who can be heard today pointing out that energy corporations and others are using inflation as a cover for increased profiteering and share buybacks rather than social investment? The power of financial, social and media oligarchies also appears an act of nature.
But acts of nature are themselves the consequence of human choice. Global warming is the direct result of industrialism and industrial agriculture, the burning of fossil fuels and the production of meat. The stall holders and performers at Sustainable South Brent were clear about the need for renewable energy and a move to plant-based food production. South Devon Singers performed a concert of songs composed by their musical director David Haines including the haunting ‘Four Billion Years’, which laments the possible end of life on earth ‘through human apathy’.
At Tolpuddle, the connection between social/economic change and averting disaster was made everywhere. Speaker after speaker denounced the current impoverishment of the working population as the Tolpuddle Martyrs denounced the lowering of agricultural wages.
It seems that the people know the priorities. It’s going to be a long hot summer.
Yesterday, my son was describing an initiative to improve the learning of “weak” pupils by offering them three words or phrases to guide their efforts. These might be “attend”, “engage”, “remember” or similar profundities. He remarked that, if this worked at all, it would be because of the Hawthorne effect – the effect of being considered and listened to.
The Hawthorne effect refers, of course, to a famous study of American factory workers that found that, while incentives such as increased pay, more time off and other benefits increased production slightly, production reached a peak when the benefits were withdrawn but the investigators remained. The study concluded that the motivational factor for these production line workers was their sense of being important.
Perhaps the same conclusion can be drawn in education. Education is not a business, and its problems cannot be solved by initiatives and accountability alone. Of course, education can be profitable. Ruth Miskin, whose phonics textbooks are often found in British primary schools (and as far away as Zambia), used her influence with Michael Gove, the former UK education secretary, and Chris Woodhead, the former UK chief inspector of schools, to market her wares. As a result, UK primary school teachers are instructed to teach “literacy” by getting children to sound out the letter-sound correspondences of words without giving them any clues (such as pictures) to meaning. As Andrew Davis has remarked, no classroom teacher would conform to the narrow method of decoding apparently required; to do so would be to abdicate their role as teachers. Reading is about meaning, and it usually begins in social relationship with trusted others.
Many initiatives are conceived by senior executives in academy chains in order to improve “results”. But the results of an educational process are subtle and complex. Success depends less on the techniques employed than on the social context. If an Ofsted inspector judges a school in need of improvement despite its acknowledged success in engaging a wide social and ethnic population, some parents may withdraw their children in favour of the private sector. No remote executive, however highly paid, can rectify this loss of a supportive community.
Beyond education, social life is beset with initiatives and techniques that are claimed to fix problems. “Literacy” is often used to describe methods of handling matters that are essentially relational. A recent item on BBC Radio 4 spoke of “death literacy”: ways of talking to people who are dying. Campaigners to reduce adolescent suicide suggest that teenagers should be directed to weblinks to inform them that everyone has “down times” and to look for positives in their lives. Depressed people with financial means may seek out psychotherapy, but this too may prioritise technique over relationship. Guy Saunders proposes a cubist psychology that adapts the approach to the patient without insisting on a specific technique.
We are born in relationship, and disruptions to personal development are caused by failures of relationship. The Hawthorne effect, which so surprised the investigators, reveals that human beings are not merely rational economic units. In the 17th century words of John Donne, no man is an island, entire of itself.
When I started teaching cultural and media studies over 20 years ago, all paths of enquiry seemed to lead to Jürgen Habermas. His concept of the public sphere was repeatedly cited in relation to the development of the worldwide web. Just as, in Habermas’ account, the London coffee houses of the early 18th century provided a meeting place where are people of rank but below nobility could meet to discuss public affairs, the web was going to provide a public sphere for everybody who had am internet connection. There was concern then, as now, for the millions who lacked such a connection; but the apparent democracy of the web, where every individual could use their mouse and keyboard to have their say, was widely predicted to promise a new age in human communication and understanding.
Today we are offered the Metaverse. I suspect that most people are unsure what this means but it is clearly “meta” – beyond the everyday material world. It is a market of the digital realm, resembling children’s Roblox, where anything can be created and traded as an NFT (non fungible token). A metaverse mega yacht that has recently sold for $650,000 is the most expensive NFT yet sold in The Sandbox virtual world. This is not a universe of public debate, but a digital market for rich players where even the currency exists only online, in “blockchain” technology. What has happened to that idealistic vision of worldwide communication over the worldwide web?
I first realised that there was something wrong with this application of Habermas’ vision when I was coaching a dissertation student who was related to the royal family. She was determined to deal with the intrusion of the press and media into the monarchy, and proposed to construct a set of rules of engagement. Discussing with her that such rules would work, if at all, only with certain sections of the “quality” press, I realised that Habermas’ concept was of a bourgeois public sphere that no longer existed in its imagined form. The public and the press of the late 1990s were very different from Joseph Addison and The Spectator.
This was before social media. Today, most people in developed countries have immediate access via their phones to an effectively unregulated sphere of information and entertainment where almost anything can be published and consumed, and where “bourgeois” rules of conduct and responsibility do not operate. Everybody with an Internet connection can participate, but the Web does not present a public sphere for reasoned debate.
From 1949 until 1987, the US Federal Communications Commission’s Fairness Doctrine required broadcasters to identify and cover issues of public importance and to give airtime to opposing views. Reagan’s revocation of the Fairness Doctrine in 1989 allowed news stations to construct news and comment in line with the assumed preferences of their audiences (and financial backers). It is often argued that this led to the current polarisation of US news media. However, the Fairness Doctrine applied only to broadcast licences; it would not have impeded the development of cable channels such as CNN and Fox News, nor social media.
In his novel 1984, George Orwell projected a media universe where reality and truth have lost meaning. He imagined ubiquitous television screens that cocooned the citizens of the megastates Oceania, Eurasia and Eastasia in a fake reality. The difference between Orwell’s forecast and our present reality is not that one illusory worldview is transmitted but that various proponents of the culture wars, each with their own political and financial allegiances, mount a co-dependent spectacle of opposition. Division, as one US commentator remarked, is a good business plan. Our metaverse of countless cable channels and social media is a product of the money and power that maintain the people of Planet Earth in confusion and ignorance.
This metaverse of disinformation is not merely technologically but historically and culturally determined. Despite the rhetoric of “one nation under God”, the US has for nearly two centuries projected two cultural universes. After the Civil War, a large minority did not accept that all men and women were truly created equal. Jim Crow laws designed to disenfranchise and remove political and economic gains made by black people were enforced until the mid 1960s. And racial hate was not resolved by the Voting Rights Act of 1965. Affronted by the ascendancy of a Black man to the office of President, white supremacist voters elected Donald Trump as Obama’s successor. Today, in a remarkable realisation of Orwell’s forecast, a majority of Republican voters live in a metaverse as insubstantial as the Sandbox but maintained by Fox News, Newsmax and the echo chamber of social media. They do not believe that Trump lost the 2020 election. And legislators in numerous states are realising the intention of the illusion by changing voting laws to further disenfranchise Black and other “minority” voters.
Pandemics and climate change make disregard and perversion of the truth increasingly dangerous. The human world of Planet Earth will come to an end if Habermas’ vision of an informed public sphere cannot be realised. Investors in the Metaverse may, as The Baffler suggests, buy up fake land and fake homes that exist only within energy-guzzling servers stored in a desert air-conditioned warehouse. The people of the threatened human world need to learn and discuss truthful information about the real state of things.
I spent a fine day this week with a friend at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park.
The current exhibition by Joana Vasconcelos memorably juxtaposes traditionally female crafts such as needlework and crochet with everyday objects often associated with domesticity and housework and sometimes with masculinity. The effect is always to unsettle concepts of gender.
Vasconcelos’ Purple Rain (seen on the right of this image) references Marcel Duchamp’s famed Urinal, covering this masculine object with crochet and wittily nodding to Prince.
The oversized silver stilettos formed from hundreds of stainless-steel saucepans reference Marilyn Monroe and femininity as constructed by Hollywood.
Call Center uses 168 rotary-dial telephones to represent an enlarged Beretta pistol, perhaps commenting ironically on the sociological view that that women appropriated a practical, supposedly masculine technology for distinctively feminine ends.
Most striking of all the installations is the 12-metre-long Valkyrie Marina Rinaldi. Suspended from the ceiling, this female figure from Norse mythology appears to advance, her tentacle limbs stretched across the gallery and enhanced by multicoloured woollen crochet, fabric and flamboyant embellishments.
For me, faith has existed in the realms of hope, aesthetics and the historical legacy of Christian spirituality rather than in certainty or conviction. So perhaps it was never real faith at all. I can be moved, almost to tears, by the Maundy Thursday liturgy, without ever really knowing why. I am sad that my faith has withered and wish it would return. The church has always been part of my life and I still love the trappings: Romanesque architecture, Anglo-Catholic traditional liturgy, the English choral tradition, evensong, the Book of Common Prayer, incense, vestments, worship, the priest celebrating ad orientem. All that. To experience High Mass is to be surrounded by a warm and intoxicating numinosity, ineffable and almost wildly beautiful. I am part of it and it became part of me. And how I yearn for it, but it is now elusive.
For it is overshadowed, overwhelmed you might say, by the dark heart of evangelical Christianity that seeks to dominate the faith: arrogant, shameful, uncritical of itself, intolerant, racist, homophobic and misogynistic. Those who voted for Trump or who supported Brexit, those who use phrases like ‘I’m not a racist, but…’ All these are to be found in Christianity’s bigoted core. Worst of all (perhaps) is the assumption that evangelicals should impose their faith on others, even on those who practise sacramentalism or liberal theology. Humility is crushed by zealotry and by bogus dehumanising assertions of superiority.
My great friend and spiritual champion lost his faith and longed to have it restored. There were circumstances surrounding this, including the tragedy of being robbed of a fine son in a climbing accident, but the retreat from faith was insidious, or at least subliminal. My friend was a research engineer, and during his working life was tasked to make aeroplanes safer. He knew that he could not make them safe, just safer. Nothing could be safe, nothing could be certain. So, in the realm of faith, we might believe, as we both did in those days, but we could not know. For the evangelicals (the ‘rough boys’, as he called them), this would not do. And so his faith, and perhaps mine too, began slowly to perish. He died in 2019 and I wept at his loss and mine. His wife holds his legacy, the fragments, of his search for understanding. The ebb of faith is not about the injustice of tsunami or the anger of personal loss, it is about believing what you are told and, although evangelicals pretend to listen (the pretence at exploration of the Alpha course), they do not. In any other discourse we might be willing (in principle at least) to move a little, understand a little more, assert a little less. W.B. Yeats urged us to ‘tread softly’. Sound advice for anyone prone to overweening certainty.
140 House Republicans have demonstrated their continued support for the former president and his lie that the 2020 election was rigged. Some have gone further along the path of perfidy and have stated that the attack on the Capitol on January 6, 2021 didn’t happen, that the rioters were merely tourists walking through the hallways. In the words of commentators working for CNN (but not Fox News or NewsMax), they are rewriting history. “The Rewriting of History” is a phrase from George Orwell’s 1984. In Orwell’s prophetic novel, written in 1948, the Party (IngSoc) rule Oceania, a landmass including what are now the United States and the United Kingdom (the latter satirically renamed Airstrip 1). They constantly alter news broadcasts, media reports and historical records to support the current version of truth. They survey the people through ubiquitous television screens. Most citizens submit to the domination of their leader, Big Brother, and the authoritarian militia that stamp out any rebellious elements. O’Brien, the senior functionary who captures and tortures Winston Smith, the protagonist of the novel, tells him that the reality of 1984 is a boot stamping on a human face, forever. This is the reality imagined by the mob who stormed the Capitol.
The terror of 1984 is not just the torture: the cage of starved rats that will devour Winston if he does not comply. Eventually, Winston gives in and agrees that he loves Big Brother. He is defeated. But the greater terror is of a world where people voluntarily give up their freedom because of fear. You can see the fear in the faces of the Republican representatives as they deny the truth.
Trump is Big Brother. He has an uncanny attraction to millions who cannot bear their individual lives and would rather join with him in an inchoate, ignorant, violent mass of “us” against “them”, “them” being liberals, Blacks, Democrats and others who, they believe, would take way their primal American freedoms. He is kept in place, six months after he lost the office of president, by an oligarchical media who, for financial and ideological reasons, perpetuate the big lie – that Trump really won the 2020 election.
In Orwell’s novel, the combination of state and ideological power maintains the status quo. In the USA today, Trump Republicans are a minority, but they are convinced they are right. Their identity and security lie in their certainty that they are the winners and that with Trump they will finally gain liberty. The opposite, of course, is the case.
The Old Commercial Inn in Bishopsteignton, South Devon, is taking action to protect and sustain the environment.
At the Old Commercial Inn we constantly review our systems to make sure we are making the best use of our resources and the least impact on the environment at the same time. Some examples are:
When we deliver off-licence and hot food takeaway orders we often take these on foot for near neighbours so give us a wave when you see us laden down with goodies! When we need to drive we use our hybrid Toyota Auris which is also used for trips to suppliers.
While we trade in the garden during restricted Covid opening we use CE marked, compostable PLA, clear plastic pint cups which are made from rapidly renewable starch resources such as tapioca and corn.
We use Boxroll, UK manufactured lavatory paper made from 100% recycled pure wood pulp (sourced from environmentally and accredited forests) in all our lavatories and are happy to add a…