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Saturday 16 March 2024

Stalemate in Russia

The death of Alexei Navalny has been interpreted as evidence that Russia has once more entered a stalemate. This doesn't refer to the minimal movement of the frontline in Ukraine but to the belief that Russian society is once more stuck, much as it was in the Brezhnev years, and that all anyone, inside or outside the country, can hope for is Putin's inevitable demise by natural or unnatural causes. The current gloomy predictions, centred on this weekend's presidential election, are that he isn't going anywhere soon. He has stablised the economy on a war-footing, international sanctions have proved ineffective in bringing social pressure to bear on the military campaign, and weariness in the West means that Ukraine will face a frozen conflict for years to come if not pressure to negotiate the partial surrender of invaded territory. I have no particular insight into the military situation, though I would note that my simplistic assessment that Russia hasn't got the materiel to take Kiev and Ukraine hasn't got the mapower to liberate the Donbass and Crimea remains sound, if hardly original. What I'm more interested in is the changing perception in the West of Russia, that "riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma", as Winston Churchill patronisingly put it. 

The trigger for this line of thought was an article in Eurozine by Kirill Rogov - Russia's Future and the War - published in the immediate aftermath of Navalny's death. The heart of Rogov's argument is the oscillation between pro-European and anti-European sentiment, with Navalny presented as an ikon of the former: "This regular pendulum movement can be seen throughout Russian history – periods of pro-European modernization, followed by periods when the anti-European agenda is prevalent. The rapid adaptation of European models and practices is then replaced by hostility to the European ideal and efforts to replace it with Russia’s ‘national’ or even ‘civilizational’ identity." There are two problems here. One is the claim that "As the face of European idea in Russia, Navalny incorporated everything that the forces of revanchism in the country oppose." Even the most superficial review of Navalny's history reveals a man who was happy to play the Russian chauvinist when it suited him. Like many Eastern European politicians (and many Western European ones), he moved seamelessly between liberalism, nationalism and Islamophobia. As Jeremy Morris noted, "the anti-Putin contains many ingredients of Putin himself".

The second, and bigger, problem is the idea that Russia is bipolar. Some of this is simply recycling of old tropes about Russia's propensity for suffering and its tendency towards manic depression, which owed as much to the long shadow of serfdom and the knout as to the tortured speculations of Tolstoy and Dostoevsky. The modern equivalents are the trope of alcoholism as an expression of social ennui and, topically, the accusation of fatalism in the face of political corruption. But there is an obvious inconsistency in the idea that Russia is governed both by a persistent structure of feeling (the "Russian soul") and by a tendency towards a periodic volte-face centred on its attitude towards Europe and its associated "modernisation". Rogov's attempt to prove the reality of the latter leads to some questionable history: "The Bolshevik project in the twentieth century was probably the longest period of Russian anti-Europeanism. It was certainly the most extensive and bloody attempt to establish in Russia a system of institutions and values completely opposed to European ones. However, after the Soviet regime entered the phase of its demobilization in 1960s, it was only a matter of decades before a pro-European elite had formed in the Soviet Union, leading to an anti-communist and pro-western revolution."


As any fule kno', the Boshevik project was consciously pro-European and modernising, hence the belief that revolution in Russia might trigger a general proletarian uprising throughout the continent. The Comintern was focused on generalising a Marxist analysis of history, not on emphasising Russian exceptionalism. Marx and Engels themselves contributed to the debate in the late-nineteenth century on whether Russia could proceed directly from the "primitive communism" of its agrarian base to socialism. They said no (the proletarian phase was necessary), but the key points to draw out here are that the Russian left was looking to European models and Marx and Engels were insisting that revolution in Russia would require first revolution in the West. This was finessed by Lenin as an alliance of workers and peasants, and would eventually give way, after the failure of revolutions in Germany and Hungary, to Stalin's "socialism in one country", but at no point did this entail a rejection of Europe. Even at its most extreme interpretation in the 1930s, Soviet Communism remain infatuated with European ideas of industrial modernity, scientific rationality and the appreciation of high culture (if not its contemporary expressions).

It's perfectly reasonable to characterise Russian history as one of warmer and cooler relations with the West - nobody would claim that today's froideur over Ukraine is the same as the sympathy shown towards Putin during the Second Chechen War. But the stronger claim being made is that these changes in temperature can be sourced to a reaction by Russia - the West being blameless (the idea that Putin was incited to invade Ukraine by the expansion of NATO is a version of this, albeit one that points the finger at Western carelessness as much as Russian pique). As Rogov puts it, "Periods of pro-European orientation in Russia often coincide with – and are stimulated by – signs of the success of Europe and the European project. ... when Europe reached a trajectory of sustainable growth at the end of the twentieth century, democratizing citizens’ access to the benefits of this growth by creating a mass consumer society, while at the same time making a breakthrough in European integration, it provoked the crisis and collapse of the totalitarian anti-European empire in the East." 

If this dynamic were really at work, you'd have to ask why the USSR didn't collapse in the 1960s when the signs of the success of the European project were visible to everyone (consider the UK's repeated requests for accession to the EEC) and at a time that Rogov claims the Soviet regime was "demobilizing". He explains the delay as the gradual formation of a pro-European elite, as if Khrushchev inherited a backwater that had to be slowly opened to the West in the manner of Peter the Great, rather than a major power with broad international influence and two decades of close political, economic and cultural involvement with half the European continent. And can we really say that the 1980s and 90s in Western Europe was a period that "democratized citizens' access to the benefits of growth"? That phrase echoes the rhetoric of Thatcherism, but it doesn't chime with popular experience during an era of privatisation and rising inequality. The benefits of growth since 1979 have not been equally shared and the neoliberal political economy that has dominated Western Europe these last 40 years cannot be plausibly described in terms of greater democratisation.


The simple truth is that the bipolar nature of Russia reflects a lasting ambivalence in the West about how the country should be treated, rather than something innate to Russian society. Insofar as Russians do resent the West, it relates to that ambivalence: the unwillingness to accord the country equal respect and the sense that it can never quite qualify for membership of the club. That ambivalence ultimately reflects Russia's Eurasian position, hence the disproportionate focus in the West on its relations with China: the worry that they might ally and so present a threat to the US hegemony in which Western Europe has invested so much. Such an alliance would probably have little impact on geopolitics, contrary to the "heartland" theory of Halford Mackinder that Rogov alludes to with talk of Russia as part of the "Greater European Periphery". That 77% of Russia's population is west of the Urals, and that much of the other 23% were moved east by diktat, doesn't lessen the suspicion in the West that the country is essentially an Asiatic horde waiting to descend on European civilisation, hence the quagmire in Ukraine is easily translated into a clear and present danger for the Baltics and even Poland.

Rogov's analysis is hopeful in the sense that he thinks the pendulum will inevitably swing back: "Breaking off economic ties with Europe so abruptly and maintaining hostility towards Europe at such a high degree would produce strains on society and very strict forms of authoritarian control. After some time, when this control proves too expensive, or for other economic or political factors, prevailing opinion will turn back in favour of Europe." This strikes me as naive on two counts. First, it imagines that Russian politics is always and only ever about Europe and attitudes towards it, which is obviously ridiculous. And second, it implicitly identifies public opinion with a narrow band of the middle-class: the liberal intelligentsia that admires an idealised Europe as a way of avoiding having to think about Russia in domestic terms - a stratum that Rogov himself represents. As Tony Wood pointed out in Russia Without Putin, what ultimately matters is the post-Soviet system of capitalism, of which Putin is as much a prisoner as anyone in a Siberian labour camp. 

That system has functioned well enough in the interests of the elite, and even the liberal intelligentsia. It has been coming under pressure in recent years, and the Ukraine misadventure can certainly be tied back to that fact and the regime's need for positive achievements, but it has yet to produce a coherent domestic opposition to that system, let alone a credible challenger to Putin. Alexei Navalny's narrow focus on elite corruption meant that the wider economic system never really came into view politically, while his personalised approach to campaigning presented too many in Russian society with the excuse of preferring the devil (and relative stability) they knew. As Wood put it in 2020: "Russia's imitation democracy is capable of reproducing itself whether Putin is in charge or not. It if is to be replaced by something substantively different, an alternative to the system as a whole will have to coalesce - not just an anti-Putin who can take the current president's place." Insofar as Russia is once more in a stalemate, it is because of the failure to develop an anti-capitalist opposition.

Friday 8 March 2024

The Coming Tide

Barring the unforseen, Wednesday's budget is probably the last major political initiative we'll see prior to the calling of the general election (an Autumn statement, if it happens first, is likely to be more of the same). As such, it told us little we didn't already know about the leading parties: that the Tories will emphasise their commitment to lower taxes, and that Labour will offer little in the way of differentiation. Further austerity is therefore baked-in. The decision to abolish (i.e. rebadge) non-dom tax status was as heavily trailed as the reduction in NICs. Yet Labour appear to have been wrong-footed, having no alternative up their collective sleeve for the former and quick to support the latter as part of their own commitment to lower taxes on "hardworking families". The increase in child benefit was the one (mild) surprise, but even that made perfect sense as a gesture towards a pivotal demographic inclined to turn out at the polls. Most of the benefit will accrue to higher income households and will do little to offset the cost inflation suffered by those on lower incomes.

The predictability of the budget announcement makes Rishi Sunak's hyperbolic Downing Street statement on the Friday after the Rochdale by-election seem even more of an oddity in retrospect than it appeared at the time. He clearly wasn't teeing-up some major economic or foreign policy initiative, but equally the claim of democracy in existential peril hasn't heralded any major new policies in respect of policing, just a demand that the Met in particular gets tougher. In reality, the erosion of the rights of protest has been an incremental process since the early-80s, something done as a matter of bureaucratic routine rather than a novel initiative that needs to be announced from a lectern outside Number 10. The revelation that the Prevent scheme now considers socialism and anti-fascism to be warning signs of potential terrorism is the latest fruit of that process, and also a clear sign that the Home Office is confident that an incoming government under Keir Starmer isn't going to raise an eyebrow at a definition that automatically places the left of the Labour Party under suspicion. 

Sunak's speech has been interpreted as a diversion from the Conservative Party's Islamophobia, but that strikes me as an overly negative motivation. The Prime Minister has never given the impression of being a man of strong beliefs, or of being particularly concerned about the party's public image, so it may make more sense to view this simply as an attempt to shore up support by appealing to social reactionaries and the Jewish community. But there are two problems with that. First, those are demographics that the Tories already enjoy dominance among, so appealing to them in this way seems unnecessary, unless the party's internal polls are predicting something truly dire. The second problem is that Keir Starmer's alacrity in supporting the Prime Minister's authoritarian impulse means this isn't a dividing line between the parties. Some Labour supporters will see this as evidence of Starmer's astuteness in avoiding a trap, though I think he was merely being himself. But again, the idea that outbidding Labour on the restraint of protest will be the key issue at the polls seems unlikely.


Perhaps the simplest explanation is that Sunak wants to remind us he is still Prime Minister, there being few other issues on which he is able to command supportive media attention. In other words, this is another symptom of a government that has run out of ideas and has yet to convince itself that it knows how to avoid the coming electoral tide. Attention switched this week to Jeremy Hunt, and we shouldn't under-estimate the possibility that Sunak's statement was simply intended to pre-emptively distract from the inevitable media attention given to the Chancellor. If there is one thing we have learnt over the last decade it is just how self-regarding and bitchy Tory politicians are. Hunt's budget sought to cement the idea that the Tories are the only party who can be relied on to deliver tax cuts, even though the popular mood is very much in favour of increasing public spending after almost a decade and a half of austerity. You could see this as a last desperate attempt to make the political weather, but I think it's more a case of the Tories going down swinging, an approach apparently alien to Labour politicians (if only Gordon Brown had had the balls to abolish the House of Lords in 2009).

This determination to unashamedly do what Tories do should be borne in mind when we consider the growing body of commentary on the future of the Conservative Party. This can be broadly divided between the psephological focus of the moment and the longer-term analysis of the Tories as a historical and sociological force. For the first, there has been much heated talk of "meltdown" and "wipeout". In a first-past-the-post system this is conceivable: there is an inflexion point at which falling levels of support lead to an exponential increase in seats lost (i.e. getting into what might be called Lib Dem territory in terms of national levels of votes-per-seat). However, opinion polls and by-elections are rarely wholly reliable guides to general elections, and we must never under-estimate the fact that conservative voters are by temperament conservative and so stick with the devil they know. The second approach has tended to focus on the long-term demographic and material challenges for the party: in short, that they've lost the young (actually all cohorts up to about 60) and that their dominance among the old means their base will gradually shrink. The traditional transmission of youthful liberals into middle-aged conservatives appears to have broken down under the weight of unaffordable housing and rising income inequality. 

In this context, the "culture wars" and the associated authoritarian turn against youthful protest are seen as an attempt to motivate that elderly base and retain the social reactionary vote detached from Labour in the so-called "Red Wall" seats of the 2019 general election. There are a number of problems with this theory, not least whether the Red Wall even exists independent of Brexit and why the only people in small Midlands and Northern towns who vote are apparently either OAPs or crypto-Fascists. But if there is one thing we know about the political commentariat it is that it remains endlessly fascinated by the far-right, hence the outsize attention given in recent weeks to Liz Truss's attempt to carve out a speaking career in America, the anti-Enlightenment New Conservatives, and the ever-present Nigel Farage. While the media's intermittent focus on the left is always about preserving the Parliamentary Labour Party's ideological conservatism, its focus on the far-right is about normalising the idea that the Tories are a genuinely broad church and that radical shifts are natural and welcome (consider Chamberlain to Churchill, or Heath to Thatcher).


One product of this broad church assessment is the idea that the Conservative Party is an unstable alliance between conservatism and liberalism, hence it is apparently at risk of being "torn apart" by someone as intellectually shallow as Suella Braverman. But the party's actual raison d'etre is simply a defence of hierarchy, which makes it inherently stable. The default governing mode, which we are experiencing at the moment, is do-nothing because doing nothing preserves existing hierarchies. When the party has shifted to an activist mode, as in its adoption of neoliberalism in the 1970s, that has invariably been an attempt to restore hierarchy and its associated privileges. Thatcher's "Let managers manage" sought to restore capitalist power in the workplace while policies such as privatisation and right-to-buy sought to restore the privileges of property ownership (that ex-council houses ended up in the hands of petty landlords was a feature, not a bug).

Likewise, the idea that Labour is united by a common cause but divided by strategy misunderstands that socialism seeks to supersede liberalism, which is why the latter seeks to restrain and impede the former. This idea also ignores the structural imperatives to preserve hierarchies (consider the motivations and behaviours of the PLP). The motor of UK politics since 1832 has always been liberal "reformism", and the practical application of that has always been the creation of novel forms of governance and representation that preserve existing hierarchies while accommodating limited "progress". For example, nationalisation took industries into public ownership but largely retained and reinforced the existing management, which meant moves towards workers' control were stymied and the prospect of future privatisation preserved. Likewise, the return of those nationalised industries to private ownership has seen not only non-exec sinecures for helpful ex-politicians but the growth of a parallel bureaucracy of market regulation that shows a marked continuity with the QUANGOs of old.

The Conservative Party does not face an existential crisis, any more than democracy itself does, however both the party and our political system are subject to secular trends and material factors that will inevitably alter them. The Tories are facing a period out of office because the model of transferring economic control of public services to privileged private interests has finally hit the buffers. The crass profiteering around Covid contracts was like stripping an already emptied shop of its shelving. To paraphrase the lady, "The problem with Thatcherism is that you eventually run out of state resources to loot". The state has not shrunk, because it can't, and the rents extracted from it are now too high to bear, a point the public have got if the Westminster parties haven't. The challenge to democracy is that both the Conservatives and Labour remain in denial about the death of Thatcherism, despite standing amidst the mounting wreckage of the financial crash, auserity, Brexit and the pandemic. The palpable lack of enthusiasm for Labour, and the likelihood that enough of us will wearily troop to the polls to consign the Tories to temporary electoral oblivion, is a reflection of that sea-change.

Friday 23 February 2024

Arsenal vs The Celebration Police

We're two-thirds of the way through the league season so now is a good time to look at how the fight for the title is shaping up. Arsenal sit third, one point behind Manchester City and five behind Liverpool, who have played a game more. Most pundits think it will be a straight fight between the teams currently in first and second place, with Arsenal failing to keep pace and City favourites because they have won the last three titles (and five of the last six, Liverpool winning the other). In other words, the assumption is that history will repeat itself: the early promise of Arsenal's challenge fading, City putting together a winning run over a dozen games and Liverpool making one of their periodic dashes for the finishing line. People rarely go broke betting that tomorrow's weather will be the same as today's, but there are reasons to believe that a new script might emerge. After all, it has to happen at some point. A feature of modern football is that as teams have become more drilled on the pitch, and as players have become more diligent and unassuming off it, managers have increasingly taken on the burden of providing personality and colour in the game, so that is as good a place to start the analysis as any.

Both City and Liverpool have managers either leaving or likely to leave in the not-too-distant future. Jurgen Klopp has already announced that he will be taking a sabbatical at the end of the season and while there is nothing official, or even rumoured, I think most people expect Pep Guardiola to fancy a change now that City have won the Champions League. His increasingly spiky dealings with the press suggest a man eager to burn his boats, and it's hard to believe he sees turning Jack Grealish into a world-class player as a suitably engrossing project any more. The counterintuitive integration of players like Haaland and Doku into the City squad looks like a master craftsman tinkering with his mechanism out of idle curiosity. He has always cut a dissatisfied demeanour on the touchline, but it's noticeable how much more morose he looks these days. Just as Klopp's manic grin has come to seem like the mask of a man on the verge of a nervous breakdown, so Guardiola's irritability suggests that he's near the end of his tether, or at least sufficiently bored to want to walk away.

In contrast, Mikel Arteta remains wound up to the point of mania, which means he's still on the upward curve of the managerial trajectory. It's nothing more that relative age, but it does suggest that the growth potential at the Emirates is greater than that at Anfield or the Etihad. This has been reinforced this season by the frequency with which other members of the coaching staff have been given prominence in the media, notably Nicolas Jover's contributions to set-plays and the rumours of suitors for Carlos Cuesta, and by the near-legendary status accorded the warm-weather training trip to Dubai. Even the goalkeeping coach, Inaki Cana Pavon, has been mentioned in dispatches in the context of the background to David Raya displacing Aaron Ramsdale. What this suggests is the emergence of a new narrative in English football, which is partly down to Arsenal's undoubted progress in recent seasons and partly the boredom of the media with the established narrative embodied by Guardiola and Klopp. Attempts to create a positive narrative out of Ange Postecoglou appear to have faltered, mate, while the negative narrative of Manchester United under Erik ten Hag also appears to be fading.


This has given rise to some odd behaviour in the media, most notably the arrival of the celebration police with their demands that Arteta and his coaches comport themselves with greater dignity, as if winning a game of football was akin to laying a wreath at the Cenotaph. Given that the same sources were always able to find fault with the touchline behaviour of Arsene Wenger, a man who was never less than dignified even when confronted by rank imbecility, these snipes are not worth responding to, but they are worth thinking about as evidence that certain pundits with North West affiliations are becoming uneasy. This doesn't mean that Arsenal are bound for glory, but it does suggest that the foundations are there for a sustained period of excellence that will unquestionably improve the chances of said glory. This is perhaps best understood if we look at the data. Over the first 12 games of the season, Arsenal garnered 27 points, scoring 26 and conceding 10. Over the next 13 games they took 28 points, scoring 32 and conceding 12. This looks like consistency, even if you'd ideally have liked 2 or 3 more points per third. The question is: can they maintain this pace and perhaps even improve on it?

Last season, the points haul per third was 31, 29 and 24: a fast start and then an accelerating decline at the business end. In Arteta's first two full seasons, Arsenal secured 13+21+27 and then 20+28+21. In other words, he has overseen periods of top-four performance (25+ points) but has been unable to sustain this over a season. 2022-23 saw title-challenging performance (28+) over two thirds, which was enough to achieve an 84-point second place finish. The hope is that this season will see a steadier return and thus a consistent table-topping points tally in the 85-90 range. 35 points from a possible 39 remaining is achievable, but 30 is more likely. However a final tally of 85 might be enough to win the title. It's worth noting that Man City had 55 points after 25 games last season and went on to take the crown with 89, but I suspect they'll drop a few more points along the way this season. Their games away to Liverpool and at home to Arsenal in March could well be decisive.

In terms of the squad and style of play, Arsenal look more balanced and varied. There have been hiccoughs and a periodic struggle with low-block defences (the defeat away to Porto this week being the latest), but there have also been examples of Arsenal confusing their opponents with their movement and the attention to detail on set-plays has been real and rewarding. As is usually the case at this stage of the season, Arsenal are going to need some luck on the injury front: specifically that they don't lose key players like Ødegaard, Saka and Rice. Given that they've lost Timber and Partey for almost all of the season, and Tomiyasu, Zinchenko and Jesus for part of it, you could say that they've already proved that the squad has greater resilience and depth. The question is whether they can now raise their game for the title run-in and take either or both of Liverpool and Man City to the wire. The one thing we can be certain of is that whoever manages to win the title this year will be fully justified in tearing off down the touchline to celebrate.

Friday 16 February 2024

Antisemitism Again

There are a number of reasons for the Labour Party's continuing troubles over antisemitism. Having deployed it as a weapon for factional ends, there should be no surprise that it has proven to be a double-edged sword in the hands of the Tory press who, for commercial as much as ideological reasons, like nothing better than blood on the floor. Likewise, the patent insincerity of the more thuggish elements of the Labour right in claiming to be lifelong campaigners against racism and bigotry was always likely to blow up in their faces at some point. I'm genuinely surprised it has taken this long, but that in turn points to a third reason: that the media's indulgence of Keir Starmer's leadership was always likely to end ahead of the next general election. He lacks the charisma and novelty of a mid-90s Blair and the process of making Labour's manifesto "bullet-proof" against Tory attacks has left a vacuum that needs to be filled somewhow. When your leading defenders are either insisting that you are a serial dissembler who will suprise us all by being more radical in office, or that your lack of fixed principles is actually a sign of pragmatic maturity, then you know you're going to struggle when the electorate asks what it's getting in return for booting out the Conservatives.

Beyond the confines of the Labour Party, the contemporary salience of antisemitism obviously owes a lot to the conflict in Gaza, though it should be emphasised that the turn in sympathy against Israel and towards the Palestinians, which is what we're really talking about here, long-predated the 7th of October and can be traced back to the collapse of the Oslo accords. The defenders of Israeli policy, such as the UK's Community Security Trust, whose data on the level of "antisemitic incidents" is routinely relayed by the media without interrogation, have obviously sought to conflate criticism of Israel with antisemitism, to the point of now claiming that the phrase "Free Palestine" is anti-Jewish if addressed towards Jews or Jewish institutions. In other words, we are seeing the boundary of what qualifies as antisemitism expanded, a danger that many previously predicted in respect of the demand to adopt the IHRA definition without qualification, including Kenneth Stern. This rhetorical inflation has led to many tropes that were previously considered acceptable, if crude and insulting, to now be taken as prima facie evidence of antisemitic intent, which appears to be what has tripped up Azhar Ali and Graham Jones, the two prospective parliamentary candidates at the centre of the latest Labour "row".


There is a fine line between believing that Israel has opportunistically exploited the 7/10 attack to pursue long-standing aims in Gaza and believing that there was a conspiracy to amplify the attack in order to further those aims. In suggesting the latter, Azhar Ali was indulging his audience in a worldview assumed to be common among Muslims: not just that Israel is conniving but that it is cruel and callous. What this suggests is that the presumption of factions based on ethnic or religious heritage remains part of Labour's internal management culture. Party members, even relatively elevated ones such as councillors, are assumed to have bloc loyalties (specifically to Pakistani-heritage biraderi) and must therefore be appealed to by pandering to what are assumed to be that bloc's prejudices. The two leading theories as to who leaked the meeting are that it was either a member of another faction disappointed by Ali's selection or someone genuinely appalled by what he said. In either case, this was clearly a political decision, which indicates how misguided it was to try and address the participant's concerns through the medium of an imagined bloc identity.

In contrast to Ali's statements, Graham Jones's "Fucking Israel" is a nationalist rather than a communalist sentiment. Likewise the claim that anyone fighting for the IDF is a traitor. What this highights is the double nature of antisemitism, here in the form of two distinct traditions: the idea of Jews as insufficiently loyal to their "adopted" country (Jones) and the idea of Jews as having an intrinsic moral deficit wherever they are found (Ali). The former has tended to be characterised as a sophisticated, even aristocratic tradition (e.g. the Dreyfus Affair), while the latter has been seen as vulgar: the antisemitism of the marketplace (e.g. Kristallnacht). But in reality these two traditions have always overlapped to the point where there is no meaningful distinction in practice - i.e. in how they impact on Jews. It exists purely in the minds of antisemites. The distinction between an upper class patriotism and a lower class materialism was constructed to reflect better on that upper class and to quarantine the lower classes whose "excitable" responses to economic disruption had a tendency to expand beyond questions of Jewish culpability into broader debates about inequality and power.


The paradox of Nazi antisemitism - that the Jews could be characterised as both rich and powerful and at the same time as poor and verminous - was not simply a geographical distinction between the assimilated Jews of the Rhineland and the alien Jews of the Polish shtetls. It was also a class distinction in motive: the bourgeois antisemite resented the unequal competition of the bourgeois Jewish cabal and despised the vulgarity of the poor Jew, while the working class antsemite resented the power of the Jewish capitalist and despised the unequal competition of the Jewish worker willing to accept lower wages. The double nature of antisemitism reflects those class differences. Likewise, just as anti-black racism reflects the beliefs of "white" racists rather than any intrinsic quality of "blacks" (hence racism birthed race, not the other way round), so classic antisemitism - that is the antisemitism of the modern historial era rather than the religious antisemitism of the pre-modern era - reflects the ideology of the ethnically homogeneous nation, which was meant to unify the classes. 

That classic antisemitism, with its roots in the nineteenth century and its overlaps with "scientific racism", never went away because we never superseded the nation state. But it has altered over time, specifically the dual nature of antisemitism has seen a bifurcation. The vulgar Jew has retreated into history in most Western societies. This is not simply because of the demographic impact of the Holocaust in Europe or the successful upward social mobility of Jews in the US (incidentally a continuing theme in American culture, e.g. in recent films such as Oppenheimer and Maestro). There are still working class Jews, but you rarely see them in the media. Instead the community representatives are overwhelmingly middle or upper-middle-class, tend towards the centre-right politically, and identify with the establishment. Likewise, few of us are familiar with the reality of working class life in Israel because Western media prefer to present the country in middle-class terms as one of technology start-ups, liberal values (that admittedly need defending from the vulgar Netanyahu) and the IDF's gender-equality, with the charedim as little more than a background noise and the illiberal settler movement as semi-detached.


This has left a vacancy that has been filled by Islamophobia. The traditional tropes of antisemitism from the "lower" tradition have been transferred wholesale: the shadowy conspiracies and unfair competition (the underlying rumble about the Rochdale selection), the morbid religiosity, the desire to defile white women ("grooming" will be on the Rochdale ballot courtesy of an independent candidate). We can also see elements of the upper tradition echoed in popular forms - e.g. the treatment of the traitorous Shamima Begum. But if the upper tradition lives on, it does so predominantly, if paradoxically, under cover of philosemitism. The Jews are to be applauded because they have shown us what a true nation state looks like. They are defeating the Muslim interlopers, purging their land and ensuring the survival of the Jewish race. A good example of how these two traditions now combine was offered this week by Trevor Kavanagh, the former Political Editor of The Sun, who opined that all Muslims are by definition anti-Jewish. This manages to treat both Muslims and Jews as homogeneous groups with common characteristics, while also conflating all Jews with Israel.

What this suggests is that Labour isn't going to able to "rid itself" of antisemitism, or at least the appearance of it, any time soon. The Tories will insist on the association of Muslim support and antisemitism not simply as a way of attracting Jewish (and Indian) support to themselves but as a way of gradually detaching Muslim voters from Labour. The hierarchy of racism within the party reflects a factional approach, and that won't change so long as the party remains averse to actual politics and so preserves the utility of ethnic blocs. The groups that achieved national prominence campaigning against antisemitism in Labour under Corbyn, such as the JLM, are unlikely to cede that prominence now, which will encourage further rhetorical inflation. The identification of the left with antisemitism has been pursued to inoculate the party from any taint of socialism, but the consequence of this has not just been a shift to the right on the ideological spectrum but a movement in the boundary of antisemitism itself, as Azhar Ali and Graham Jones have just discovered. Too many people are now invested in the persistence of antisemitism within Labour for it to easily disappear.

Saturday 10 February 2024

Labour's Industrial Strategy

John McTernan was unfortunate in his timing. His plea for Labour to drop the pretence that the green prosperity fund was anything other than an industrial strategy came only days before the long-heralded confirmation that the expected next government will not be spending £28 billion per year transitioning to a low-carbon future or anywhere near that figure. Lost in the debate over whether this latest u-turn shows Labour cleaving to the Tory agenda or simply incapable of sincerity is his use of a term suggesting a more dirigiste approach to the management of the economy than has been visible of late. As a confirmed Blairite, McTernan would no doubt insist that New Labour had an industrial strategy, but in substance this amounted to little more than acquiescence in the once-fashionable idea that letting the financial sector do as it pleased would ultimately benefit all. In fairness, that was a strategy with a long pedigree in British politics. The formal industrial strategy of the postwar years was, like the wider concept of planning, an atypical interlude in a history otherwise tending towards laissez faire.

The UK's fitful attempts to craft an industrial strategy between 1940 and 1980 reflected the nature of the economic model that developed over the much longer period between 1750 and 1890. The technological advances of the age, which every schoolkid learns to recite as a series of names (Arkwright, Bessemer, Stephenson etc), gave the UK a significant first-mover advantage as they did not spread sufficiently rapidly to allow other nations to quickly develop competitive domestic production. There were two consequences of this: the growth of export-oriented capital goods sectors in the UK (shipbuilding, railways etc) with the corollary of a firm commitment to free trade, and the defensive adoption of protectionist policies by many of those competitors in an effort to shield and develop domestic production (notably the USA). The common ground was a commitment to sound money - the gold standard - which in turn benefited the UK by making the City of London the central nexus of global trade and capital financing.

The extroverted nature of British industry led to sectors dominated by multiple, small-to-medium size manufacturers specialising in niche products and selling to a global market. In contrast, the protectionist policies of the UK's chief competitors encouraged vertical integration within captive domestic markets, the classic example being the development of Standard Oil in the US, a company that spanned extraction, refining, distribution and retail (a model that remains central to the oil business today). The institutional effect of this was the emergence of the large-scale corporation and a tendency towards merger as a means of achieving growth, particularly notable in Germany around steel production, which was only occasionally restrained by anti-trust laws (e.g. the break-up of Standard Oil). After World War II proved the inefficiency of further expansion through territorial aggression, this birthed the modern multinational. 


While all this was going on, the UK found itself pulled between competing interests. The established capital goods and manufacturing sectors lobbied government to preserve their export markets, which gave rise to the conflict between free trade and imperial preference (the latter being an attempt to stunt the growth of capital production and manufacturing in the colonies, which inevitably failed because no one seemed to appreciate that this wasn't what the dominions themselves wanted). Meanwhile, there was a conscious effort to consolidate the fragmented primary goods and manufacturing sectors during the twentieth century, notably coal, steel and automobile production. Typically, this was done by a combination of nationalisation, the encouragement of private sector mergers, and various schemes in between where the state would act as a sleeping partner underwriting private capital with public money. 

What remained a constant was the interests of high finance and the influence it exerted on the UK state - what Giovanni Arrighi, in The Long Twentieth Century, refered to as its "pecuniary rationality". Despite the retreat from the gold standard and the emergence of capital markets in New York and Tokyo, the City of London continued to exert sway over the state's fiscal policy and industrial strategy, constraining the former (the "Treasury view") and showing little enthusiasm for the latter. Indeed, if nationalisation in the UK was characterised by a willingness to preserve the existing management culture and resist workers' control, it was also marked by a desire to side-step the City's lack of interest in domestic opportunities and to short-cut the process of private sector consolidation. The problem was that the fiscal constraints inevitably led to under-investment in those nationalised industries by the state: neither brave enough to defy the money markets nor brave enough to reform British management.

The technological first-mover advantage that the UK benefited from in the late-eighteenth and early-nineteenth centuries (roughly 1760-1840) now looks like a historical one-off, both in terms of the transformative effects it had on society (e.g. urbanisation) and in its duration, though you could make an argument for China's economic catch-up since 1978 being an echo of it, albeit through the absorption of common technologies into an untapped domestic market and then through labour cost arbitrage with the West. Subsequent cycles of advance, notably the second industrial revolution (1870-1914) and more recently the digital revolution (1970-1990), saw new technologies dispersed globally in ever more rapid bursts. This in turn means that the boost to GDP growth arising from new technologies tends to be weaker and much shorter. While tech-boosterism is still a thing among politicians and pundits, the likes of Tony Blair look increasingly naive in their fetishistic belief that the embrace of technology alone can transform a nation's fortunes. 


Today, growth above the historic mean, or even above the level of national comparators, can only arise in two ways. One is a historic conjuncture in which secular trends and contingent opportunities coincide to produce a benign environment. For example, a demographic bulge that rapidly adds youth to the working population or the demands of reconstruction after a period of major destruction. The second is a major change in the composition of the economy that provides a higher-level comparative advantage. For example, the discovery of oil, or other valuable resources, within a territory or the rapid expansion of an export-oriented industry that cannot be quickly replicated by competitors (such as semiconductor fabrication). Of course, these developments themselves entail risks, notably the resource curse in the first instance and exposure to fluctuating foreign demand and currency speculation in the second. A safer approach may be a state-led change in the compostion of the economy but for a developed nation with already mature technology like the UK such a change is more difficult to achieve: you can't just take it off the shelf as the Chinese did.

Outside these exceptional circumstances, the ambition for most states will be growth close to the international average. For developed economies, that's been around 2% per annum over the last twenty years. The UK is currently at about 0.5%, so there's certainly headroom, but getting closer to 2% won't generate the sort of tax incomes, ceteris paribus, required to fund much long-term investment, particularly given the demands to boost day-to-day spending on the NHS, social care and crumbling local goverment services. The green prosperity fund - or green new deal if you prefer, emphasising the pro-labour and pro-social aspects - offered a potential way out of this bind: a major retooling that would boost growth in the short-term and make the economy more competitive in the longer-term so sustaining that growth (or at least enabling the UK to keep up with its peer group). In rejecting the idea of using the green transition to boost growth, Labour are not simply allowing the Tories to set the agenda, or giving up on the climate crisis, they are confirming that the stranglehold of the City, last seen during the Truss debacle, remains very much in place. 

Labour hasn't been the party of the workers since the 1970s, and even then workerism was only one of a number of competing ideological strands, but it did retain a credible claim to be the party of growth long past that point and as recently as 2019. With this announcement, Starmer and Reeves have confirmed that it has given up that claim and is now simply the party of sound money: the "fiscal rules" have become a fetishistic end in themselves rather than the means to a particular fiscal end (higher spending, lower taxes etc). The move to the right on policy (i.e. all those promises reneged), like the authoritarianism and managerial brutality, are not simply the instinctive behaviours of the right wing of the party. They are an expression of an overarching commitment to sound money that inevitably produces a conservative, pessimistic mindset and a preference for austerity: the constraint of the growth they claim to be in favour of. Labour has no industrial strategy because it has no growth strategy beyond a pious hope.