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Stewart Hotston

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Politics

GUEST POST: on the NHS by Dave Palfreyman

I generally avoid talking about Brexit, I don’t consider myself an expert, there are many more educated on the subject than I. what I can talk about is the NHS. with 24 years service I’ve seen a lot of changes over the years and managed many transformation processes. Like everyone else in the UK I am also a user of it as much as I’m an employee of it.

The brainchild of Aneurin Bevan, then Deputy leader of the Labour party in 1948, the NHS is now in the top five largest employers worldwide, it rubs shoulders with the US Department of Defence, McDonalds, Walmart, and the Chinese Army. We treat something like 1 million patients every 36 hours. It costs us approx. £2.4billion per week to do that. Those who are good at maths will have already worked out that this is about £125billion a year. That is some serious money.

The Health budget in 2016-17 was 19% of the national expenditure so the government of the day understandably want to make it as efficient and effective as possible.  The single biggest problem that we the NHS face is that of constant demands for reform and scrutiny. We have no issue with scrutiny. We should seek to improve our game, but reform, dear gods, another one? The problem is that we never stop getting reformed. The NHS reals from reform after reform after reform, like a punch drunk boxer. staff constantly have to deal with reversed decision making that leaves them feeling uncertain and vulnerable. Not an ideal situation to be in when you have others to look after.

We spend millions on change every year. The costs associated with investigations and reports from Francis report, the Cavendish report,  the Keogh report and the Berwick report etc, make your eyes water.

Right First time. That’s one of the many ethos’ of the NHS to which we aspire to, but sadly despite our best efforts, we occasionally fall short. We waste millions a year on dispensing medication that does not get used and has to be thrown away, supplies that are past their best before date gets destroyed despite still being in a sterile packaging. We lose hundreds if not thousands of hours on missed appointments, waiting lists though significantly better than two years ago are still pretty high for some services. more so when you talk about children and adolescent mental health services, because its funding is peanuts by comparison. Trying to get appointment with the GP is a nightmare and we the patient often feel like we are not listened to leading to frustration and anger.

We are often told the NHS has too many managers, yet the Kings Fund analysis suggests we have has less than is required for this size of company, particularly given the complexity of health care.,  Cost improvement savings are often born by the management teams rather than the front line services. Twice I have “taken one for the team”, and agreed to be redeployed to protect front line staff and services putting my livelihood on the line for sustained service delivery.

When we as customers are not happy we complain. When it comes to the NHS  we demand that our MPs sort it out, who then demand reform, and around we go again.

What’s in it for me?  Well, the flag ship service obviously is its critical care departments, including good old A&E. If you are critically injured you can expect the best possible treatment. The NHS will do its utmost  in trying to save a life no matter the cost. After that, the NHS offers a bewildering array of services from regular health screening to palliative care, and everything in between. We have become all things to all people. It is the envy of the world, and we are proud to be number 1 in a list of the top 10 health services in the world.  But it comes with a hefty price tag as I have already said.

Paying for it long term is a constant issue for the government, and the NHS.  recently the NHS Confederation has said it needs an increase of five percent per year to meet the demands currently placed upon it, and none of the parties in the last election proposed those sort of numbers. That big red bus was nothing more than a figment of our imagination.

The House of Lords NHS sustainability committee in 2017 said we need a 2.4% increase just to stay in line with current inflation. Over the last few years we’ve had about 1 – 1.5% I think we got .4% this year.

So what is the answer? Well the simple answer is if we want a free health service like the one we are familiar with then we have to pay for it in taxation, possibly a further few pennies in the pound. We could reduce the amount of services we currently get for free, and pay for them through private health insurance, this already happens with dentistry, and most social care. Or we could just scrap everything except critical care.  That would certainly put a lot more money in the government’s spending pot. But that does not help older people that have retired and have no money. We would see mortality figures rising sharply over winter.  I believe the UK does want an NHS and it is prepared to pay for it, so we are stuck with option 1.

Long term funding not just for the next 5 years needs a consistent sustained increase to remain offering the services we currently are able to access. We have been cutting for so long that services are failing and failings at best mean long  delays or appointments getting cancelled. At worst it could, and has led to failure of care that has had catastrophic consequences to peoples lives.

After all that what’s the conclusion?

Yes more money would be helpful,  but that’s only half the story. we the NHS recognise that we are not perfect. Sadly we are prone to human failings, however we make every effort to learn from our mistakes and attempt to prevent them happening again. We should be accountable to the government for the delivery of public services but we need a buffer that protects us from the eb and flow of political manoeuvrings so we have time to make sense of the latest round of changes we’ve just gone through.

What really is not helpful is another reform. Please, no more. A cross party governance process that has a single vision and direction with some stability  would give us a chance to consolidate the changes that are constantly being imposed so that we can develop and improve. Consider the NHS as an oil tanker, which you are asking us to manoeuvre like a speed boat. Go easy, handle it with care, after all its 70 years old you know.

 

We need to talk about race

I’ve just finished the book that is the image for this post. It’s a book I read in one sitting today, sat on a plane that hasn’t gone anywhere because of unidentified baggage that needs to be removed…the sweet ironic serendipity of that occurrence is not lost on me.

It’s a book that’s given me some language for feelings and experiences I’ve had throughout my entire life – stuff that I’ve not been able to articulate properly, scenarios that I’ve entered into time and again and thought were perhaps unique to me. Turns out they and the feelings they provoke are not unique to me at all.

A little then on what’s going on from reading this book.

I grew up in a school where I was the only boy of colour. There was a Hindu girl called Aneeka. Later on there were a couple of other people of colour four/five years below me. When they arrived, the four of us were dragged into a new lunchtime club whose only participants were those of us who weren’t white. The person running it told me they’d written to my parents but hadn’t heard back. When I asked my mother about this she angrily responded that she didn’t want me going to it. I didn’t understand why then although I already thought it wasn’t relevant to me and didn’t go back for my own reasons. I experienced a lot of racial hostility growing up – not least from the kid next to me writing NF on everything I owned whenever he got the chance (I was clueless what it stood for and found it hilarious that he was so insistent on writing such nonsense on my pencil case, my skin, my books). I managed to avoid getting beaten up for being brown more than I got beaten up – most often I’d just start talking about how beating me up wouldn’t make them feel better and they often just walked away. Having said that it didn’t always work.

I didn’t know any other brown people, didn’t know anything about Indian culture – didn’t eat curry at home until I was 15 because my white father didn’t like it (except he did and ate it on the sly for years until my mother caught him…you can imagine the row that provoked, and the liberation afterwards. It’s almost comic now). I remember finding a book of racist jokes in the glove compartment of the car – not that the jokes were ‘racist’ the title of the sheets of paper with literally hundreds of racist one liners was ‘racist jokes’.

I remember the normal fights I had, the ones that are about growing up, about nothing more than being a boy, in school with lots of other people with hormones. But I also remember the calls of paki, nigger, twix, that I smelled of shit, of curry, that I should wash better because i was dirty.

I could go on.

I remember the people who were racist because of ignorance rather than hatred – those who thought my ‘eyes shined’, that my teeth were whiter because i was brown, that I must be able dance well or have a bigger penis. That they didn’t see me as brown or black, that they didn’t like blacks but I was ok, ‘not like them’. That I must know ‘XYZ because they’re one of your lot’ or that I’d be good at this subject because my lot are.

More recently I’ve also experienced the opposite – the people who wonder why I don’t speak Urdu or Hindi, who realise I’m a ‘coconut’ and stop talking to me. I’m not trying to virtue top-trump here, but I’m stuck in the middle. Belonging to neither side properly. Heck, I’ve got six different nationalities in me – the largest two being Jewish and Italian…not that racists realise they’ve got more than one reason to despise my very flesh for the crime of existing. Miscegenation is something most racists don’t realise I’m also the guilty product of. Quite where I’d be sent to if ‘sent home’ I don’t know…Poland maybe?

I also remember being friends with people, with having good times where it didn’t matter that I was brown. (I shudder to write that). Kids have a keen sense of difference but not context, so in many cases although they’re aware of the differences, they have no measure of significance – you’re different to me because you’ve got blue eyes, you’re smart, you’re rich and you’re brown – they’re all true and all unremarkable. I remember being punched out of nowhere in a pub and a dozen people standing up and surrounding me – letting the aggressor and their three mates know in no uncertain terms they’d better leave or end up in the ground. All while I stood there wondering what the hell had happened.

I was brought up in a home where race wasn’t talked about. It still isn’t. I think I’m probably fine with that at the moment.

Taking a look at myself in the light of this book I see how I’ve grown up trying to be safe – and I mean that literally – to build a life where I, Stewart, was unassailable. Where I could weather the hostility of public places like trains – such as people asking if I was sure I meant to enter first class.

I come at life therefore with the scars of not belonging, of having been rejected simply for existing. I think these lead to a certain set of triggers that I’m generally aware or and I believe that, most of the time, I’ve turned to strengths.

  • I find it hard to accept people lying to me. Maybe not uncommon and it’s something I can forgive but it’s also liable to induce blind rage in me because I experienced so many friends at school be friendly only to then use that friendship as a way of getting in with others by racially abusing me.
  • I expect not to be listened to – now, you might think I’m very well listened too, but I’m not talking about actuality here, I’m talking about what’s in my head. This is a subtle one – it’s the ‘why would we listen to you’ point. Now, I have a generally too high opinion of myself – but I think that desire to be smart, to know stuff, to be in control (oh so much control) comes directly from the desire to be safe from those who’d harm me.
  • I find it hard to be open about my insecurities – I find that I’m ready to read teasing as a personal attack more than others. I look at some of my best friends a observe how much they tease one another and I know people don’t tease me the same way and I wonder just how prickly I am because my default is to assume people want to hurt.
  • I find it hard to take sides. I am indifferent to conflict – at ease with it because I’ve experienced so much of it. This marks me out on its own. However I’m also an inveterate refuser to take sides and to hide the truth. I have experienced this only confirming my fears about being rejected because I have a tendency to test whether people want me for myself or because they want me on their ‘side’.
  • I have a sleeping anger (see above) – although part of that is a Hotston thing I see in all the members of my family. It’s a flash bang kind of anger and it really rarely shows itself. I’ve never, ever, entered into violence on the back of it, but it’s there and its horrible. I’ve used it to very positive effect throughout my life – whether negotiating big deals or dealing with bullies. Anger, on its own, isn’t a bad thing.
  • I’ve gotten used to caring about stuff most of my friends don’t care about (in the same visceral way). I have friends who care more if I swear than about the subject I’m swearing about – if you see what I mean? Their cares come from a place of such mundanity that they have literally no way of accessing the more primal, existential issues I find myself dealing with.

The above are the big, obvious ones. I find that the stuff Eddo-Lodge is writing about is so much more sub-surface. It’s the everyday micro-aggressions of white men and women who think they are the norm, that my colour is an exception, that I’m probably muslim, that I’m probably unsafe if I’m angry, and why am I angry anyway, why can’t I speak about my outrage in a calm, rational way? And if I can do that, it can’t be that serious after all can it? It’s the fact that racism is structural. That I always have to justify why it exists, to prove that people are being racist not just in themselves but also within their organisations. There are the times where because I’m so primed to see it that I’ve called it completely wrong (as my good friend Ned will testify over a specific event in Denmark many years ago). That moderates are the worst. That moderates think we should obey the law and everything will be ok…as if Stephen Lawrence was just an unfortunate event and not a sign of deeply rooted state sanctioned racism. That somehow there can be reverse racism…there can only be racism if power is involved, otherwise its simple, individual prejudice. Racism, in my mind at least, involved power, involves groups of people impacting others’ lives purely on the basis that they don’t like their appearance.

I am also aware of how few people respond to me when I bring these issues up. Of particular disappointment to me is how few Christians (and I am one, so not singling them out except that I am a part of that community) seem to have any awareness of the issues and, worse yet for me, any apparent care for them. This isn’t a post designed to have you come up to me and say any of the following by the way:

  • I’ve been meaning to talk to you
  • Sorry
  • I’m supportive

Mainly because a lot of people in my life are supportive and do talk to me about these things and humbly and humblingly try to work out how to walk this path with me – they’re just not Christians – which, as I say, is a particular disappointment.

I’m suddenly at 1700 words and realise I could write and write on this subject but I’m not sure I could shed any light. Eddo-Lodge’s book has made me realise that so many of the things that make me angry are about those tiny little actions that confirm you’re being judged on how you look. That these triggers can flip me over a table. They help explain why I’ve spent so much of my life driven to succeed – because I want to have enough to be safe. How sad is that – that I can’t be happy except that I think I’ve got enough buffers to be safe. I’ve read books on the holocaust and on slavery and how racism, fascism and the like grow from minor actions to ways of oppressing millions because ordinary people didn’t object. I look at those paths and see my own self sitting precariously exposed, the first in the line for if the majority decided those who weren’t white needed to suffer.

It’s why I mourned the brexit vote because it was driven by fear of the other for so many people, because it was a siren call to people who were closet racists to be more open about their hatred, to embolden them.

Britain is racist. Beyond the normal facts that we all harbour prejudices. It is structurally racist. Now – it’s so much better than almost every other country on earth – don’t get me wrong. BUT. I see in Eddo-Lodge’s book a reflection of myself that made me weep on the train home today, because I suddenly see that when I was angry because I was being singled out for being a trouble maker, or for refusing to conform to a white idea of normality, it was just that – because somehow I was resisting being turned into something I’m not. That it’s ok to be me.

I’ve been joking for some years with white friends of mine about my colour, openly talking about the skews against me and in their favour simply because they’re white. Many of them can now talk back to me about it – we’ve all been on a journey to where that’s possible. They’ve been respectful to me in that journey because none of us had the vocabulary to talk about it meaningfully when I first realised I needed to talk about the subject. It’s a difficult balance. I joke about it often because to challenge each and every instance in which I see those prejudices expressed would be exhausting beyond belief. Humour is a much easier and communal response even when I’m actually deprecating my own position. Fortunately, I’m a successful bruiser of a man who’s also pretty confident in who he is – so I can roll with it and be provocative and see fumbled attempts at entering that debate without losing my shit.

Ok, this is now officially too long for a blog post. You want to talk about this? Talk to me in person because this is important to me and I will make time for you 🙂

Can democracy survive?

It’s clear to many of us right now that much of what we’ve taken for granted these last forty years is under threat. Even more than that for those of us who’ve become adults in the last twenty years is that much of what we count as progress – sexual equality, conversations about justice in race, culture, history and even language, identity, representation are under threat by a whole host of voices that shout loud, hate dissent from their point of view, have no sense of irony and are, in the end, pretty damned smart about how they play their tunes to get people onside.

I’m not going to rehearse the litany of actual people, events and decisions that challenge me everyday at the moment. I want to examine here two related subjects that don’t need us to look at whether Presidents are racist or if Parliament should be sovereign.

The first of these is whether democracy can survive. This seems like an overly dramatic question. I can hear people saying ‘don’t be so extreme’. Except it’s a question worth asking, right? What if people who we see calling ‘fake news’ and not giving a fig about being caught lying repeatedly really don’t care for other people having a say? What if the right wing press hates dissent and fact based decision making because ideologies don’t allow for other points of view being valid?

When someone breaks with the social contract, makes an argument that’s extreme or completely selfish or focussed only on their own interests to the lack of all others, ceding ground to them normalises their activity and also provides space for them to take from the rest of us permanently. In these cases ceding ground to the edges (be it left or right, intolerant or utterly apathetic) is a slippery slope. I used to hate the slippery slope argument as being vacuous. I was wrong. It’s slippery because once these people start to get their way they are able to control the narrative, to cast the rest of us as fools, as weak, as too straight for our own good. ‘Look,’ they say. ‘The world didn’t end just because I got my way.’

To an extent they’re right. Except they’re dead wrong as well. Each time they take, each time they shut us down, each time they hate on us, they’re changing the world a very little bit. In the end they want no dissent and will change the world to make it so. It’s creeping, it’s hard to see the piano move when it’s only an inch at a time but make no mistake. It’s moving.

Most people like this, most BULLIES, for that’s what they are, work on the assumption that the majority won’t stand up to them and they’re generally right. Most people walk on by. Not all, but sometimes it’s enough to let them get away with it. When these people are in power they cluster together like turds in a rock festival portaloo. When they’re unchallenged newspapers start to print their narrative, culture starts to make their arguments for them, their opponents are lost because they’re moving to oppose them too late with arguments that are now too little, too redundant to get their supporters active.

The second is our inability to believe in evil. I don’t mean the kind of evil we associate with serial killers, they seem unbelievable even if fascinating. I mean proper evil, the mundane evil of following orders, of Nuremberg defences, of bureaucracy killing people because the rules said it was right, that we needed a hostile environment. I mean austerity that kills people of cold and hunger, of disability tests that humiliate and impoverish. Of the approach that assumes rich people are morally better, that they should go to jail less, that they don’t have to live by the same rules. Am I concerned with racism? With sexism? Of course I am, but these other things are precursors or metanarratives that provide fertile, non-conflictual ground within which racism and other forms of prejudice can grow without fear of being weeded out. Why? Because all forms of evil render those around us as less than human. As soon as dehumanisation of anyone in society is considered acceptable evil has taken root. Left unchecked it leads to children in cages because they’re no longer human, no longer deserve to be treated like ‘us’. It leads to MPs objecting to upskirting laws, it leads to trolls on line who hate on those different to themselves.

The real problem I have with evil, beyond that it’s evil, is my own response to it. So many times I’m too weary to fight back, too worried about how I’ll be perceived, about the fact that relationships may falter, that people will think it’s all I care about. THere’s a price to standing up to evil, to those who hate us and it exhausts us fighting it all the time, hollows us out, tempts us to be like those we oppose. If we oppose. So often I’m on my way somewhere important, I’ve got other responsibilities to satisfy, work to do. It isn’t easy to think that if I do risk so much it will make a difference, that it will change anything! It’s easier to think ‘I’ll just keep on cooking eggs, because it’s really unlikely they’ll do anything to hurt me or mine.’

Except of course when they do it’ll be too late to resist it.

So what then? Is democracy doomed? Is liberal society finished as strong men (in that horrible utterly toxic sense of strength) pat each other on the back while crapping on those who would build consensus, who would think carefully about consequences?

Quite possibly, but I think we have plenty left in our arsenal to oppose these enemies of ours.

Here ‘s my list of how to defeat them.

  1. Recognise them as what they are – your enemy. It will be emotionally challenging to have an enemy, to live with that. But they see you that way already and it doesn’t take two to start a fight, just one person will to hurt another.
  2. Find a way to articulate what you love. We spend so long calling out their bad behaviour or crying about how bad things are going to be that those around us could be forgiven for wondering what we’re actually fighting FOR. For instance. I love equality of opportunity, I love mercy, I love grace and justice. I love respecting others around me. I am a PROUD social justice warrior and I’m proud to say that I want to treat others as if they matter, to help them do better, to help them be all they can be. It’s what I love about humanity and this world I’m in. I will fight FOR that.
  3. Get active. See the cost and do it anyway because this is what we forget: the cost today to oppose our enemies is infinitely SMALLER than the cost that will come when those who hate, those who care only for themselves, get their own way. Look for opportunities to get involved in your community, in charity work, in acts of forgiveness and in acts of saying ‘this is the way to live – the way that values others.’
  4. Resist the urge to become like those who hate the way we want to live – be they craven politicians or compassionless rich or fundamentalist ideologues – oppose them by being defiantly who you are. After all, that’s what drives them fricking nuts in the first place. Call them on their behaviour unapologetically, insistently and don’t back down until you’ve got your way. It’s ok to be a pain in the ass. For goodness sake they are.
  5. Focus on what matters. I see allies splintering apart because they’re played by the enemy or because they’re too worried about the pennies to realise the pounds are slipping through their fingers. Hold on to your perspective, hold on to dissent (unless the dissenter wants you to become less human and/or dead – then kick them hard where it hurts) and make sure you support others who dissent as well.
  6. Finally, in my list of 5(+1) write to those in power, talk to them, don’t block them out, don’t let them live in a bubble, in a world in which they hear only those who approve of their craven ideologies. Act within the rules as much as possible. There may come a time for physical resistance but it’s not now.(after all, nearly all major societal changes involved some form of violent protest alongside long term peaceful protest – be it enfranchisement, ending slavery, equal rights for minorities etc. etc. etc.)

Remember – we’re all flawed, we’ve all got stuff the enemy can attack us over. So it goes – but don’t give up or shy away just because of that. Get into it and fight for what matters. We were naive to expect the fights our parents and grandparents had to settle the matter once and for all. Now’s the time to waken up and be prepared to get angry, to hold that anger and to act for the type of society we love – one built on respect, support and dignity.

Crisis? What Crisis?

I see the words shambles, crisis, clueless, hopeless, disaster, fury, anger, not fit for purpose and half a dozen other key words in the paper most days.

I wonder what happened to create this febrile sense of disaster that seems to hover over us every time something happens that we weren’t expecting.

Don’t get me wrong, these phrases are often used for events that are, undoubtedly, tragic and demanding of our compassion and generosity.

Yet in the scheme of things we’re still here (bar the one real crisis I can see right now, which involves the US and DPRK in an increasingly worrying and shrill stand off – there’s no doubting the eventual victor but real uncertainty about the number of people who might die and the impact on relationships across dozens of allies and opponents in the wake of this being resolved).

Then I look back at history and think about the number of people who died young, the children who died before they reached the age of five. I think of the pogroms, the persecutions, the real disasters that wiped entire civilisations from the earth and I wonder why we get so incensed.

I’ve got one, really simple explanation. That we, in the rich late capitalist nations of Western Europe, North America and APAC, have never had it so good.

Until now. In the face of communities creaking from the first decline in life expectancy in  generations, in the first generation to be poorer than their parents since 1945 and with a rapidly changing tech environment that leaves people feeling quite insecure we find our expectations about what normal is to be completely skewed.

We’ve had it good – medicine, travel, food, jobs – all abundantly available within historically stable societies. This is a massive miracle cast by humanity like a spell that’s now starting to expire.

I propose that we’ve got so used to the good stuff that now we see the cracks appearing – rather than remembering the fights that had to be committed to in order to win these freedoms and luxuries, we stand around lost as to why this is happening to us. In our short termism, we lose the strength we could have in remembering just how bloody hard it was to get to this point.

I think that if we remembered how hard it was for those who were there at the time to win enfranchisement for women, rights to reproductive decision making, the end of slavery, gay equality, prohibiting discrimination based on physical identity, the gutting of the class system and LGBT rights we’d realise that those fights will never (unfortunately) be over because cultures flow like tides, responding to scarcity, the need to have identities that keep others out and certainty of material wealth over and above others.

I’m not saying we should be depressed! Far from it. I’m saying that we should smell some of the good things we’ve got going and decide if these are the things we want to leave to future generations. If they are then we need to alter what we think of as normal. Normal isn’t a state of having it good – that’s a momentary achievement we should always celebrate. Normal is fighting for what we want – collectively, constructively – and channeling some of our energy into making sure we’re ready to stand up for it. Not once, not twice, but all the time.

In some ways, I’m saying that the lethargy we feel about politics is misplaced and comes from a feeling of powerless that arises not because we’re powerless but because we’ve forgotten just how hard those who came before fought for what we’ve got.

Preach over.

Fiction and Lies

There comes a point when sane people should stop repeating the same mistakes again and again in the hope that this time it’ll be different. I’m watching a lot of people fall into the following trap:

X utters verifiable lie

Y shouts “That’s a lie, how could you be so dum to think we’d believe you!?”

X Ignores Y and utters verifiable lie.

Y shouts “That’s another lie. My, you’re dumb. How could you believe that? Why would you believe we’d do it. Here’s a reference that proves I’m right.”

X ignores Y and utters a verifiable lie.


If the above seems familiar to you it could be because you’re watching political and media discourse here in Europe or in the US right now.

If, like me, you’re tempted to be Y in the above dialogue, I have some advice. X is not interested in what you have to say because what you’re saying isn’t challenging them.

Lying like this in individuals is considered by most to be a symptom of mental ill health. We don’t consider people suffering from these symptoms to generally be appropriate figures for taking on responsibility (hey, the EU and the UK have entire sets of legislation designed to stop obviously dishonest people taking up roles in finance now).

They do this because there’s no other way to deal with them. You cannot reason or debate with the person whose trade is lies. You cannot shout them down and you can’t turn your back on them. It may seem that this leaves you with little that can be done.

In the ordinary scheme of things you can remove them from their position for not being fit. You can, where the law allows it and someone appropriately qualified signs off, impose a medical solution.

But you can’t give them the oxygen of debate or a sniff of public credibility. You can only call them out for lying – not debate the facts, not try to prove them liars, but simply call them for what they are. This may seem to stoop to their level but debate is fruitless in the public realm with this kind of counterparty because they aren’t telling lies because they’re mistaken or because they are wrong. They’re telling them because it’s in their interests for these lies to be what people believe. Facts are irrelevant in that moment.

Now, facts remain vital but not in the public debate. They remain vital in making decisions, in thinking about risks and in how to handle these liars in private, in places where influence can be brought to bear where ‘face’ won’t be lost.

But ultimately, you simply can’t allow liars to continue lying. And you don’t win that battle with debate. You win it with power.

That’s all very well but what when organisations become ‘mentall unwell?” What about when an organisation suffers from a psychosis which means its real ends are served by inveterate lying? The lying is not the point. It’s the ends towards which the lying is advancing the organisations goals. We must be careful of worrying about the lies and not the reasons for them.

If I think of the lies around Brexit, or Trump’s barefaced making up of a massacre this week, it’s not the lie that’s important. It’s the goal behind the lie.

How do you combat this? I can only offer some suggestions because the real test is in the application.

The first list is what we can ALL do.

  1. It’s not in protest on the streets – not yet at any rate because that should be our last resort when all other mechanisms have been denied us. As as Milan Khundera made abundantly clear – this kind of protest is, ultimately, inauthentic. It’s the equivalent of giving a beggar a few coins when really we need to challenge the entire system that brought them onto the streets in the first place.
  2. It’s in engaging with the liar’s support mechanisms. In this case with their supporters, personally and financially.
  3. It’s in encouraging those ON THE FENCE to take a stand. Because in the end when less than 70% of any electorate takes a stand then there a HUGE amount to play for.
  4. It’s in making sure that the companies we work for take a stand, that they understand that their employees have a morality that they expect them to take a stand on. Consider Uber CEO’s resignation this week from Trump’s board of advisors. It’s a pyrrhic victory, because he could have been persuaded to swing his authority around in Trump’s face rather than walking away (a pointed but ultimately short lived point of influence).
  5. It’s in convincing people to change their sources of information, in stopping them buying the news sources that tell the lies.
  6. It’s in convincing people to put their money where their mouths are and to stop buying or start buying – whatever.
  7. It’s in making sure that, every chance we get, we work to re-humanise those the lies are making into monsters. Don’t allow a single chance to go by.
  8. help the liars friends see that you’re prepared to pay a price to challenge them. Most liars get by on the basis that people only talk about them behind their backs and not to their faces. They rely on not getting challenged, on people preferring to hope that it won’t impact them until it’s all too late and they’re isolated and powerless. At which point? Well, good luck.

With the lies themselves?

  1. Call them out. Don’t let them stand. Don’t wait.
  2. Have facts but don’t think they’re going to help you in public, on the internet or anywhere where personal relationship won’t pull you through.

With the people?

  1. Be compassionate, forgiving and never step back from confrontation. It’s only with grace that we can win this sort of fight without giving up what we held as valuable in the first place. If it’s a shouting match or we fight like them (like some idiot said this week about fighting fire with fire…to which I suspect a few firefighters shook their heads) then we’ve lost already because part of their game is to make us like them because that will justify their own narrative better than any lie they could tell.
  2. Do Not close down your social circles to include ONLY those people you already agree with. They might exclude you but you shouldn’t exclude them. The world’s already divided enough and if you really consider freedom of conscience important then having people you disagree with in your life (and who aren’t family) is important. Without these links across otherwise unconnected networks things can get really bad.
  3. Don’t attack PEOPLE. Demolish arguments, call out lying for what it is the moment it starts but don’t make ad hominem attacks because then you’ve lost.
  4. Understand that people aren’t going to like you. That the point of the argument isn’t to be liked because you’re right, progressive, full of hope or just plain nice. It’s to make sure that the things you value continue to have a say in the decisions we make as a society.
  5. Finally, and this is the most important point, understand that the root of what has a lot of people shifting one way rather than another is because they have legitimate concerns. These concerns are rarely articulated for what they are. Instead of ‘how am I going to pay for cancer treatment, or help my kids, or feed myself or grow old without being in poverty,’. Rather they’re articulated as ‘why are they going to get cancer treatment? How did they help their kids when I couldn’t help mine? Why have these people prospered when I haven’t?’ The answers aren’t easy, but the questions are real, valid and call into question a lot of the easy assumptions we make about progressive, liberal capitalism. Be careful of the speck of dust in their eye when we have planks in our own.

That’s not to say we should worry about why ‘we’ lost the election rather than how to deal with an upsurge in racism. That would be to entirely miss the point. Rather I’d advocate thinking about how we can actually have a debate.

Ultimately, liars without power find it hard to step back from the brink. It may well mean power has to be applied more directly but I pray for all I’m worth it doesn’t come to that.

Democracy not what it’s cracked up to be?

I have to confess that I’m disappointed. I’m disappointed that the UK voted to leave the EU in June. I’m disappointed that the USA voted Republican across all three branches of elected government. Neither of those were my preference. Having said that, I don’t actually have a franchise in the US, but you understand my point.

I’m reading a lot of discontent from those on the sides that didn’t see their preference win out in the elections. I’m also seeing a lot of crowing from the side that did win. I don’t really want to talk about that too much – there are always bad winners and bad losers. In today’s world where so many of us simply block those we don’t agree with we live in as polarised a world as we ever have done. After all, the imprecation to never talk about politics or religion at dinner is much older than the internet so I don’t feel it’s all that smart to blame social media for giving us a megaphone for issues that we’ve always struggled to debate effectively.

It was in the 1950s that Niebuhr said that democracies had to have the consent of all the governed otherwise they become tyrannies. This has always cut both ways for a form of government that is really startlingly new and like a sheet of glass – strong in some directions, brittle in others.

The point of this post is for me to talk about democracy. Not mob rule but the type of democracies we have in the UK and the US (which although constituted very differently are both of a specific type) – that is representative democracies.

I also want to debunk a number of facile arguments made by both sides about the results.

  1. We won, get over it. The country voted our way. This is disingenuous at best and miserable at worst. Representative democracies are not mob rule, they are a way of voting in people to make the complicated social and fiscal decisions for us. They may come with ideologies that we share or dislike but in the end their job is simple enough – rule in our stead. It’s never a case that a candidate is going to agree with their entire constituency, or even those who voted for them. It is massive overreaching to claim that ‘we won, get over it’. Politics is the art of achieving the possible with an underlying aim, for most, of improving society. Whatever your view of ‘improvement’ actually is. To suggest that winning an election is akin to winning the 100m sprint is to misunderstand both races. For elections it simply means the HARD WORK STARTS NOW and part of that hard work is to represent ALL THE PEOPLE. For the 100m dash, well, you may have won, but next week there’s another race and, frankly, you’re only as good as the last one. We should NEVER assume that the story’s over just because we’ve won a stage.
  2. The world will fall apart. Look, let’s be honest here, it’s pretty unlikely. It can happen and it does happen. But it remains pretty unlikely. We can make it more likely, on which more later, but overall, we have a complex and powerful system of government which means that most excesses have been anticipated and curbed before they can be started. Sure, there are always exceptions and issues that break the rules (campaign funding) or simply can’t be contained by the rules (climate change) but these are the cutting edge of how society organises itself and we should be absolutely expecting to fight hard on these battlefronts.
  3. The result wasn’t valid because so many people didn’t vote. I’m sorry, but I don’t care about this. It’s pure speculation to suggest those uncounted masses would vote any differently than the rest of society if they did vote. In fact, statistical evidence suggests they’d vote along the lines of those who did within the margin of error. So this doesn’t invalidate the vote. Now, Clinton may have lost because she couldn’t persuade people to vote for her, but that in itself is a valid message about the candidates.
  4. Particularly for the US, more people voted for Clinton than Trump. Yes they did. So what? We all knew before the election how the electoral college system works. For goodness sakes, it’s what did for Gore. It was deliberately set up to stop mob rule and for the most part it does that job really well. It means that just because California votes overwhelmingly one way it doesn’t mean the other 49 states get overridden. It’s an excellent example of constitutional checks and balances working well.
  5. Tyranny will follow!!!1!1!111!. Tyranny can always follow. So what? Right wing ideologues, of which it’s not clear that Trump is, tend to favour liberty more than left wing populists and although they have several views with which I disagree, fascism is NOT the same as Republicanism or Conservativism. (He may be a populist buffoon but check your judgements because another blond haired politician also presents that way but is far smarter behind that guise than most people credit him for).

I hear a lot of people saying that there’s something wrong with the system, that people on the other side are stupid or ignorant or elite or liberal as if these things invalidate their views. They don’t. That’s the entire point of universal suffrage. The democratic system is NOT broken even if the sponsors of that system on all sides have had their noses bloodied this year on both sides of the Atlantic (including Germany and probably France next year). I am unconcerned about vested interests getting a punch in the face.

I have never seen people more engaged with democracy. I mentioned to someone the other day that I almost wished for the time when we could rely on feckless apathy because it was less exhausting.

Almost.

Yet the point is, our society is worth getting engaged over, getting emotional over. We should be talking, arguing and debating what we think we want from society. If we aren’t involved then that’s the real tragedy and that’s where the disasters we truly fear, the bogeymen themselves, can get their foot in the door. Political volatility has been blessed absent for the last twenty years in English speaking democracies. However, that minuscule interlude shouldn’t let us believe this is the norm.

I am proud to be part of a democracy. I am proud to be English, British, half-caste. I have views that I’ll champion but crucially, when the democracy I’m a part of chooses otherwise I will accept that decision all the while seeking to make my voice heard. Attacking the system is pointless, possibly even disastrous, because what if we succeed in truly dismantling the thing that’s kept debate and speech open in the post war period? What then? Who gets to rule then?

Get engaged in politics. Organise yourself. If you don’t like the parties on offer change them or replace them. Wars have been fought over less and we have a blessed society in which we are far from such danger. Make your voice count but talk about the right things – not the failure of your argument to persuade others, not the success of opposing points of view, nor how you couldn’t game the system but about what you believe in.

Future Perfect – why politics, culture and people matter when building a world

A Family War is set in the nearish future and, as importantly, it’s set in our world. I’ve written about world building elsewhere, about how it’s vital to think through how technology and science might impact upon the world one is building but today I want to talk specifically about the other part of world building – the people and the politics. This is a fairly dense post – I’ve had some people say to me that SciFi isn’t their thing – especially stories that are as much about the questions by which we live as they are about technology. I can only apologise and promise that the book itself is a proper thriller with running, jumping and shooting of guns. Yet underneath all that there’s a living breathing idea of how things might be.
In A Family War I was primarily driven by a number of real world concerns and non-fiction pieces. Primarily, Martin Gilbert’s harrowing history of the holocaust (https://www.amazon.co.uk/Holocaust-Martin-Gilbert/dp/0006371949) which was what prompted Helena’s story in the first place. I had read this over the course of three months and apart from the horror of the events themselves I wanted to understand just how it was that so many people went to their deaths without resisting. I always felt it was anathema to how I’d respond but then reading about tens of thousands of people who ‘willingly’ boarded trains knowing it would be the end of them – it’s not something I’ve ever been able to process (I saw willingly, I simply mean nothing more than they didn’t attack the soldiers, who they outnumbered, in a bid to live – I’m not judging, I’m simply saying I don’t understand it). I think I understand it a little bit now – with a family of my own who I might consider taking short term decisions for in case it meant that we could walk away in the long term. However, I fight with proper swords every week so I’m probably not the average person anyway.
I wanted to examine how a society built with full post war clarity about the Nazi regime could head back there. It was clear to me it wouldn’t be based on the same surface level detail. There wouldn’t be another Hitler or national socialism. Globalisation appears too deeply embedded or that to happen. Of course, by most measures we’re only really obtaining a similar level of free trade now that existed in the 1920s, so what goes around could still come around. Veering away from Nazis in the future, I decided to explore the impact of technology on human society. This fell into how tech would impact human well being, human productivity and our freedom to engage in leisure – the last of these a subject that’s only really a couple of centuries old.
Looking at productivity first, one could easily see that many people are shifted out of the middle class into lower paid and less secure jobs as machine learning optimise processes far more quickly than human/manual control could ever do. The Luddite call of ‘tech is destroying our jobs’ is never wholly wrong even if it is most often a futile protest – new jobs arise to replace the old but look at how many people you need to man a farm or build a car if you want to see how technology can impact an economy, a society and their communities. Add to that recent research by Saez, Bloomberg and Macquarie that shows that although income inequality hasn’t gotten markedly worse since the 1990s for the advanced western democracies, the middle ground has been eroded. More people work than before and they work in less secure jobs demanding fewer skills. Although the overall measure of inequality (GINI) shows a status quo, inside this data we are seeing the rich remain rich while the majority become poorer overall even while the poorest are better off now than they have been before. It a complicated picture but has some specific implications for what I wanted to write about.
Namely that tech would reduce people’s freedom to act economically even while giving them freedom to connect and express themselves. In other words a rise in freedom of self-representation would run in parallel to a decline in individual economic autonomy. For me this meant that the dividends of peace, economic growth and democracy would consume themselves as capitalist forms of governance slowly shaped the most advanced societies on the planet (be they democratic like Europe or Technocratic like China). In the end, I don’t think most forms of democracy are self-sustaining as they’re too open to being hijacked by demagogues. The US has great forms of protection from these kinds of attacks and even it finds itself twisted far away from what its founders imagined. The UK has always had a democracy designed to empower the elites but this has, ironically, provided for much stability. It too is now facing a turbulent period although the system itself does not appear to be under threat.
However, democracy can destroy itself simply through attempting to appease the majority when the majority decide they don’t want freedom of choice, movement, thought or opportunity. It may take time to get there but for most people in prosperous environments (and by this I mean they have enough food, medicine and movement to want to be left alone on a day to day basis) the pressure to protect the system that provides for the stability to deliver that prosperity is hardly felt.
In trying to arrive at the world in which Helena exists then, I wanted to undo democracy but leave behind the sense of prosperity it delivers. The easiest way for democracy to be undone is for commercial interests to undermine it – for instance corporates whose profits are large but whose products are damaging to either their consumers (eg. smoking) or the world at large (eg. petroleum). If entities in the same vein can impose proper free supranational free trade agreements – especially around how they pay tax to individual sovereigns it becomes hard for those countries to exercise any kind of influence over them. Over time they will seek to protect their goods and property (in a similar evolutionary trajectory to how nation states arose) and become principalities in their own right – but ones who boundaries are no longer physical but instead technological.
For the average person on the street it means that the following is a reasonable trajectory to the kind of society they find themselves in – democracy, increasing state strength, failing state strength, rising corporate influence, subsuming of weaker states, mutual patronage of stronger states with corporates. Can and does democracy ever come back around? Hard to say, but looking at the violence, political physical and ideological that was required to get universal suffrage in the first place it seems that once it’s gone it’s hard to get back.
So I assumed that democracy of the kind we in the UK enjoy now (of the John Hyland variety of representative democracy) faded away, replaced with a technocratic system which eventually evolved into an oligarchic system as is already observed in much of the rest of the world. This was obviously easier to justify when one considered that for the richest, life spans had increased into the centuries, so companies and influencers did not get naturally recycled by old age. As justice for most people is unaffordable, I could then implement a Rawlsian system of relative merits where as long as their immediate peers weren’t perceived to have unfairly prospered, most people would accept their lot if they were left to get on with it. One day I’ll write a system where the justice on offer is that envisioned by Amartya Sen
I’m waffling here, so a little summary before I finish up. We go from here to Helena’s world, a world of material plenty but of spiritual and social poverty for the majority quite easily. Although I’ve used the impact of technology (gene therapy, automation of skilled jobs, impact of machine learning (not even AI)), the same trajectory of declining democracy, a hollowed out society without a middle class and a corporate strength that overrides sovereign states is not one that’s hard to imagine occurring anyway.
Helena’s story is about how this dystopia comes into question, how it’s own centre falls apart. In that sense I think it’s a story for our times and I hope you do to. Book two, A People’s War will explore these issues further because Helena will face events she could not have realised were behind what happened to her in A Family War.

What did the Leave vote mean?

I’ve had a lot of conversations about the Leave vote, and the movement behind it, in the last few days. Most importantly, I’ve been thinking about what it means that people voted Leave. I will state here (as I’ve done elsewhere too) that I voted Remain.

I’m not so interested in the surface read – that’s pretty obvious – anti-immigration, anti-EU, pro-sovereignty, pro-democratic. Those are the arguments when they’re boiled down to two word slogans. There’s a lot to admire in the ideas behind it. Except, just like the Remain position, there’s a more fundamental set of axioms underlying these positions that I think needs explicating if we’re to i) make any sense of what’s going on and ii)learn the lessons that we could learn as a society that needs to reflect on what’s going on.

I posted elsewhere asking, a little tongue in cheek, whether the Leave campaign was really, honestly, the truly anti-colonialist outworking of the collapse of empire? Think of it like this: your world spanning empire, through which you’ve exported your own people globally, together with your language and customs ends. You bring your people home (to a greater or lesser extent) BUT the impact on the world doesn’t simply stop, everything has to readjust, find a new status quo. Part of that is a movement of people (in)directly impacted by that empire and its end. Whether it’s former underclasses or opposition or even those who benefitted from the empire’s infrastructure and presence in their native territories. This, like the empire itself, can last decades, if not longer. However, a natural part of this deflation is that those who were impacted by this process wish to make their lives at the heart of what once ruled their world. In this specific case, people want to live in the UK because of its legacy on the world. Not consciously – few people wake up and say to themselves “I know, I’ll move to the UK because of it’s legacy in the world.” Systems of the World (to borrower Neal Stephenson’s phrase) are far more subtle than that. They provide localised reasons for what people decide to do. e.g. people DO wake up and think, the UK speaks English but is more open than the US, it’s culture is one I think I understand and it’s education system is just as good, so I’ll go study there for my qualification. Which is legacy all over.

Now, if you’re the centre, then you see this deflation with various view points, but one of them is this: we no longer draw wealth into the centre the way we once did but these people still come here. This makes no sense because there is no perceived benefit from the movement of people when the financial benefits one could say used to accrue from ruling them have ended. At this point the anti-colonialist says – let’s stop these visits then.

I hasten to add that it’s just one narrative and I am not proposing it as authoritative. I am simply saying what was behind my puckish question about are Leavers properly anti-colonialist when Remainers are, by and large, not truly committed to that. I’m not going to put here why I think you could argue that Remainers lean more to pro-colonialist narratives than Leavers – they’re not really, but their arguments about empire are differently constructed although arise from the same root – legacy of empire.

What I really want to write about here is legacy.

Let’s start with a bold statement – Leaving the EU is not about the EU. It’s not about Immigration either. It is about capitalism. It is about globalisation.

so point 1. Leave voters rejected globalisation. Both its good points and its bad points.

point 2. In voting remain, voters literally stood on the other side of the coin and said the opposite.

Now, I want to understand why, on the whole, people might have adopted these positions. To do that, let’s clear out a couple of surface level counters:

  1. No, I voted to leave the EU because it’s broken/needs reforming etc.

This isn’t really true when one examines the counter-factuals to this. If asked what could be done to reform the EU to make it acceptable, the only answers that come are either – we want no push for political union or that the EU needs to end completely.

The former of these is an explicit statement that globalisation should be limited. Freedom of movement of people – that is, you and I, is a good thing for workers because we can move for better jobs. Except people don’t really want to move around and face that kind of instability. So they’d rather that the opportunities were close to them (on the whole because there are huge costs with moving, not least the social ones that only the rich can really offset). I understand this even if, in economic theory it is suboptimal. It is a specific limit on globalisation with an obvious corollary – that eventually those people who choose a life where they don’t want to move around for work are also going to want a world in where the work can’t move around so easily either because when it does it will undermine them and their ability to prosper. It’s no malicious but rather an inevitable consequence of choosing a certain kind of life. Now, that demand could be from a minority, but if asked, I would expect that most people would rather have a stable home life and a job that suited them rather than a life spent globe hopping in search of that extra dollar. And remember, I’m not talking about CEOs here. I’m talking about normal people for whom that move might eat their entire benefit arising from the move.

The latter argument is just the former pushed to its logical end.  If you see no benefit from supranational structures like the EU, then really it doesn’t justify its own existence and so should disappear. To the extent it doesn’t, and worse than that, keeps pushing an agenda that undermines your choice of life, then it is a problem not just a neutral to be lived alongside. For most there is no chance to challenge such a behemoth…well most of the time and that resentment focusses itself not on the flaws in choosing a staid lifestyle of staying in one place but on the flaws in a system that doesn’t reward, or allow for, that choice of lifestyle. Like most blame seeking it looks outwards rather than inwards (if only people read more G K Chesterton it might be different one supposes).

2. No, I voted because I want to control our borders…

This is the same as the above, but phrased in a different way. Why should someone consider free movement of people as a problem at all? Well, if one chooses a certain lifestyle and others arrive who are different, that presents an implicit threat to the way of life being sought – because they may well prosper over and above those who chose the other way of life. For example, if someone comes in with better qualifications or with more experience, that means they should get more return on their labour which then means they will prosper over those whose education stopped at 16 years of age with a glad gasp to be away from schooling forever. We may wring our hands over the failure of education or the lack of ambition or the prejudice of such circumstances but the outworking is a difference in opinion about what is appropriate a way to live. We may even say to ourselves that the less well educated deserve their lot and we shouldn’t weep over their choices. However, I think the Leave vote offers us something to learn that our Elites should really be taking notice of for its own sake (rather than as leverage to get themselves more power).

Globalisation has had very palpable benefits. These are documents everywhere, not least in our ability to eat take aways, see films, use phones and have modern medicine when we need it. However, per Joseph Stiglitz’ book “Globalisation and its discontents’ it is not as simple as that. Globalisation has also had its losers and by number there are probably more losers than beneficiaries – especially in advanced western democracies.

Income inequality in advanced capitalist societies is about as bad as its been since enfranchisement. It’s certainly much worse now than at any time since the post war settlements. There is massive evidence in the literature that inequality drives poorer outcomes for the less well off, those who have fewer opportunities. They live shorter lives and at every stage of their interaction with official infrastructure achieve poorer outcomes than their richer counterparts. These differences scale with the gap between richest and poorest. It is not cynicism on the part of the less well off to look at the rich and better educated and believe the deck is stacked against them.

When one votes against the EU, one is voting to i) punish the elites, or ii) to kick against the sticks of official infrastructure that are stacked in other people’s favour.

It may not make one’s life better but it is unlikely to make it obviously, tangibly worse. If one sees this protest as validated then it also permits one to aggressively pursue a rejection of other people’s ways of life (i.e. more racism comes out into the open as a result).

For those who don’t see the argument from the bottom of the opportunity ladder the implicit reasoning is still there – we are insulated from the impact of globalisation, we have our own networks, we can benefit with or without that specific network and, as vested interests, we may well benefit MORE without the competition represented by the other network of powers. I hesitate to use the phrase checks and balances but when multiple sets of vested interests are in peaceful competition, it is nearly always good for the majority who benefit from stability because no one ideology can ascend unchallenged.

So the lessons:

  • Globalisation has its losers, it always will but right now our society is rejecting the notion of globalisation as it’s been presented to them
  • Elites across the western world are perceived by much of the population as the enemy – they have lost legitimacy (for whatever reason – I’m not talking about why or why not)
  • The rejection has a logic to it that makes sense from its own perspective
  • It is not simply here in the UK that this movement, populist in its nature, has taken hold, but across western democracies whose polities have seen their income erode even as elites are perceived to obtain more security, more wealth and deliver fewer goods to society.

I’m not going to talk here about what Remainers might have been voting for beyond the sense that we are better off in a stronger/larger network, that multi-culturalism has brought a massive peace dividend or that the benefits from globalisation outweigh the flaws. Why? Because this is already 2,000 words long and I’ve not got the time or inclination to do that here.

What can our responses be?

  • We need to recognise that, at its heart, a rejection of globalisation as we’ve seen in the last few days comes from almost the same place as Remainers own pleas for equality of opportunity. It’s just being expressed very differently. I think, primarily because the focus is different. In accepting globalisation, Remainers calls for equality and greater justice focus on all people. Leavers start at home and want it for themselves and their own tribes in priority to others. However, the want for perceived justice is the same. Given this idea (if true at all) both sides have a common mandate to pursue a change in the economic and political order that calls for a less wealth inequality and a financial system that permits that (while not actively discouraging wealth creators from innovating and creating)
  • We need to recognise that it is not in the interest of our elites to hear that message. They will look to treat the symptoms of the problem without addressing the underlying causes. They may well control our borders but the UK will become poorer as a result. Those who voted for it will also become even poorer with access to even fewer services. However they will then have nowhere left to turn because they will have been entirely disenfranchised in favour of the elites. Arguments that it’s not about immigration or the EU will be met with suspicion – only by challenging what our politicians enact in law as normative for finance, society and politics itself, can we try to create a space where income inequality is seen as a bad thing for society and, possibly, look to create a space where it is reined in.
  • The bumps in the financial markets right now are the recognition by elites around the world that there is a massive disconnect between them and their constituents and that, at some point it won’t hold together any more.

Our job, if I can be so brassic, is to make sure we change the debate now. That we don’t let decision makers bandage up their pride, throw us a few bones and carry on as normal. If we do, the rejection of the ideals embodied in liberal postmodernity that, in my view at least, benefit mankind more than they harm, will be swallowed up in a sea of intolerance, extreme difference between the rich and the poor and a properly dysfunctional society. I don’t want my kids to live in that world.

 

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