Category: Books

Summer reading

Are the better angels of our nature winning out? Are we, as we achieve higher levels of civilisation, becoming any less violent? I hadn’t intended it this way but violence has been an undercurrent throughout almost all my summer reading. My blog’s name may be Zenpolitics but there are no easy rides.

I’ve been back, with the wonderful John Stoner and his novel ‘Augustus’, to the life and times of Caesar Augustus and his immediate precursors. (Books by Mary Beard and Tom Holland, serious non-fiction, underline just how bloody life could be in ancient Rome). Moving on 1400 years, to the decades either side of 1400 (a neat symmetry!), Helen Castor’s ‘The Eagle and the Hart’ (not a novel but narrative non-fiction) focuses on Richard II, a lover of peace assailed by violence on his home soil and over the Channel. His successor, Henry IV, copes better. A little more than a century later we’ve Luther nailing his theses on a Wittenberg door and precipitating the Reformation, and its appalling immediate aftermath, the German Peasants’ War, as wonderfully described (in ‘Summer of Fire and Blood’) by Lyndal Roper.

We’re visiting France next month so I read Emile Zola’s novel ‘Debacle’, about the Franco-Prussian War by way (a curious way, I admit – the book happened to be on my shelves) of preparation: the victors of the battle of Sedan in 1870 would return to France less than fifty years later.

I stayed with roughly the same period, moving on to 1874, when I picked up another John Stoner novel, ‘Butcher’s Crossing’. (Now a film.) If I was hoping for respite the title should have warned me. It’s about a journey from Kansas to the Rockies where they hunt buffalo (for their hides) in a high mountain valley, shooting thousands, with a view to leaving none behind. A direct route to extinction.

I found respite in a wonderful book, ‘Left Bank’, by Agnes Poirier about Paris in the 1940s and how its intellectual and cultural and café life survived the Nazi occupation. It’s the world of Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir and Albert Camus, and fighting is in-fighting, literary and artistic. But there is a looming threat. Their opponents once the Germans are driven out are the hard-core Soviet-aligned, toe-the-socialist-realist-line Communists.

The dangers, as they might have been, to Paris and to France of hardline Soviet Communism are spelt out in a graphic way in Anne Applebaum’s remarkable book, ‘Red Terror’. Its subject is Ukraine in the inter-war years. By 1921 the various attempts to establish independence in the aftermath of World War One had all failed. Soviet power was firmly established. (It’s curious to read how in the years 1921-22 American aid had been enlisted to combat famine.)

Ukrainian language and culture were for a while encouraged as a way the Soviets saw of binding Ukrainians to a new Marxist dispensation. But by 1929 Stalin was in charge and the mood was changing. A trial of that year referred to ‘Ukrainian nationalism, nationalistic parties, their treacherous policies, their unworthy ideas of bourgeois independence, of Ukraine’s independence’. The brutal introduction of land reform, the obliteration of the kulaks as a class, and at the same time the requisitioning of the grain, on which the peasants survived, for the cities and for export, led to the Holodomor, the famine of 1932-33, during which up to five million people died. Stalin’s paranoia was by this time deep-rooted. His purges of the late 1930s all but wiped out Ukraine’s intellectual and cultural life.

There’s so much more I could say. Read the book. For my next book, something that’s maybe an easier read? Maybe, maybe not. Take each book as it comes.

Leave God, leave Allah, out of it

Book festivals are a feature of our times. The two big festivals at Hay and Cheltenham bring in big crowds. Over the last two days in Cheltenham the subjects of events I’ve been to have included trade routes centred on ancient and medieval India, the American election, and Palestine and Gaza. They are apparently disparate but there is a link I’d like to explore.

Speaking during a panel discussion on the subject, ‘Trump: The Sequel’, Tim Montgomerie, founder of the Conservative Home website, referred to his belief in the superiority of Judeo-Christian civilisation.  That set me thinking. It’s not a notion to which an Indian would subscribe. 2000 years ago, and more, India traded west, to Rome and Europe, and east, as far as China. Both Hinduism and Buddhism had their origins in India. It is a necessary humility on our part, in our modern world, that we recognise India as having a status equal with our own.

A little closer to home there is an alternative and wider appellation than Judeo-Christian and that is ‘people of the book’. It’s an ancient Islamic term that refers to religions which had a shared scripture with Islam, and that included Christianity. ‘People of the book’ were protected in Islamic countries by a legal status known as ‘dhimma’.’ There is of course a wider, non-legal status – our common humanity.

We have 1400 years of divisions between Christian and Muslim. It is helpful to be reminded of that common heritage, as I was when we listened intently to two Palestinian novelists talking about their books, and about their life stories. One growing up away from her home country, the other growing up in Israel, near Jaffa, from which her parents had been forced to move.

I am English, and a Christian. My instinct is indeed that my heritage is somehow special, focused on notions of democracy and liberty, and freedom of speech, which struggled to find acceptance anywhere in the world down the millennia. Including our own, until relatively recently. I will always argue passionately for liberal democracy and a superior form of government, but to argue beyond that, for some kind of special status, and more than that, for superiority, we are on dangerous ground. (Is Christianity inherently democratic? That would be an interesting discussion.)

Other civilisations have their own sense of their uniqueness, as places apart from others, offering a world-view no others can. The consequences can be pernicious. China defines itself against the West in terms of its four-thousand-year history, and boundaries defined as the furthest point of its past imperial expansion, which has had terrible consequences for Tibet and the Uyghurs.

There’s also a deep significance in the combining of ‘Judea’ and ‘Christian’. Christian history has until recent times treated Jews as outsiders in their midst, never escaping guilt for the death of Jesus, tolerated and too often terrorised and murdered.

Now all is changed. The Jewish people have a home, and Western and specifically Christian support. ‘Judeo’ now combines easily with ‘Christian’ and Palestine is viewed by the American and most European governments from an Israeli and not an Arab standpoint. Atrocities can be justified.

The best teachers and some of the best friends of my life were Jewish. I am a passionate supporter of the Jewish people, of co-existence of Palestinian and Jew, and I am a Zionist if Zionism had recognised the constraints that sharing territory with another people, who had occupied that land for many centuries, involved.

‘Judeo-Christian’ is at risk of being associated with a right-wing and intolerant agenda, and with a form of populism that at its extremes becomes the ‘great replacement theory’, whereby an Islamist (not Islamic) conspiracy aspires by means of higher birthrates and migration to become the dominant force in Western cultures. It is the Protocol of the Elders of Zion, used so perniciously from the 1920s onwards by Hitler and others against the Jewish people, refashioned.

The testimonies of the two Palestinian novelists, talking about the lives and reading from their novels, will stay with me forever. They have lost their country, and those who choose to fight on their behalf are terrorists. Terrorists, as the Irgun were considered, fighting after World War Two for a Jewish state against the British.

Beyond October 7th, and the retribution that followed, and continues, lies a Palestinian state, and a radical cessation of Israeli occupation of Palestinian land. And an end to the notion that there is anything biblical, Jewish or Christian, about the process.

Leave God, leave Allah, out of it.

We’ve been here before

We think our own times unique – but we’ve been here before.

I’ve been reading Leonard (husband of Virginia) Woolf’s autobiography. He has memories, almost fond memories, of the world before 1914.

In the decade before the 1914 war there was a political and social movement in the world, and particularly in Europe and Britain, which seemed at the time wonderfully hopeful and exciting. It seemed as though human beings might really be on the brink of becoming civilised. The forces of reaction and barbarism were still there, but they were in retreat… it looked as if militarism, imperialism and anti-Semitism were on the run.

We were of course mistaken in thinking that the world really might become civilised but the fact that it didn’t does not prove that our optimism was foolish or credulous… It was, I still believe, touch and go whether the movement towards liberty and equality – political and social – and toward civilisation which was strong in the first decade of the 20th century, would become so strong as to carry everything before it. Its enemies saw the risk and the result was the war of 1914. They postponed the danger of our becoming civilised for at least 100 years.

There is a terrible irony in that last line. Where they were before 1914 is not so far from where we thought we were either side of 2000.

The columnist ‘Charlemagne’ in an article in The Economist fastens on 1999 as ‘peak Europe’, when 300 of the world’s top listed companies were European, and and it looked as if China and Russia could be part of a Western-inspired economic and liberal order which could be ‘the end of history’.

We also had a sense that the forces of barbarism were still there but in Woolf’s words were ‘on the run’. We hoped, even thought, that the ‘movement towards liberty and equality – political and social’ was so strong that ‘it would carry everything before it’.

And yet … 2014, a century on from 1914, was just a year after Xi Jinping had come to power. Putin was confronting the Maidan uprising in Ukraine. The enemies of the liberal order ‘had seen the risk’. Ukraine and Hong Kong exemplify the threat today. Might other countries follow the example of Hungary, and indeed of Donald Trump, as might be? Where might Marine Le Pen and Jordan Bardella take France if their party, Rassemblement National, is victorious in the French election in three weeks time?

Woolf, in his seventies, was looking back from the late 1960s. There’s an almost elegiac tone. Yes, the Cold War was at its height and the nuclear threat had a stark reality. But we knew what we stood for. Do we now?

We do need certainties. And, indeed, defiance. ‘Charlemagne’ ends his piece by striking exactly the wrong note. ‘Perhaps Europe peaked in 1999. Or maybe it failed to see it was already in decline.’

A cheer or two for democracy

‘The tyranny of the discontinuous mind.’ That’s Richard Dawkins, quoted by Adam Rutherford in a discussion with David Runciman about taxonomy, our human instinct to classify when in reality everything is in a state of flux. The context was the Linnaean system. It applies to plants, of course, and the way we classify racial types (with historically pernicious consequences) and also, in our own homes, the way we classify books as fiction and non-fiction and more, when there is in reality massive overlap.  

I could also apply this to our democracy, to politics, to our party system. As parties try and shoehorn policies into manifestos we can see how imagination and big ideas are constrained. We get frustrated, and yet, is there any other way to manage a democracy?

We do need to clear about what we stand for. The old divides, Tory/Whig, Tory/Liberal and Tory/Labour, had a rhythm and a recognition that power alternated as an expanding electorate dictated, however great our misgivings might be. ‘Tory’ and ‘Labour’ now don’t mean quite what they did. That of course is part of our current problem.

Politics depends on classification. We need to know where we stand, and where others likewise. But, taking the broader picture, behind the apparent certainties lay a rhythm and underlying that rhythm was a sense of progress. In our own time progress has hit the trip wire of populism.

I’m well aware of the very alternative and wonderfully cynical view of a certain Groucho Marx: ‘Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it everywhere, diagnosing it incorrectly and applying the wrong remedies.’ But while it might have a ring of truth it really isn’t helpful.

It’s getting too close to a populist’s playbook. Budding autocrats would concur. You remould the institutions and take over the media and the courts. You suppress dissent. The Orban playbook. I’m reminded of Alastair Campbell’s three Ps, populism, polarisation and post-truth, which in his view, form the foundations of autocracy.

‘Democracy’ as a classification is ancient. Aristotle and Plato differed in detail but autocracy and oligarchy glorified as monarchy and aristocracy were their preference. History shows us where they lead. Aristotle and Plato saw democracy as mob rule, which in ancient Athens was limited by strict property and men-only qualification.

We have by happy accident and occasional design and a huge amount of good fortune fashioned a working democracy which is based around a free press and honest reporting and high levels of education and awareness. It also requires high levels of integrity among our politicians. And from our popular press.

To have the kind of democracy we have – we don’t know, we don’t appreciate, how lucky we are.

Hay Book Festival 2024: day two – libraries, a little levity and big reads

A second day at the Hay Book Festival. Hazel and I walk around the town, have a coffee, browse (and buy!) second-hand books, she contemplates buying a very ancient-looking and very heavy stone trough for her garden. Impossible to carry.

To be more serious. There was a short item last night from the BBC’s Steve Rosenberg in Russia on a still surviving George Orwell library. They have now been told to find new premises. Free speech and free thinking are dangerous. Ideas are dangerous. Compare Hay. It has no newspaper sponsorship, no political connections. If it’s left of centre, then maybe that’s just because it’s where freethinking takes us.

From the town it’s a ten-minute walk to the festival, just time for lunch, good Indian fare, on paper plates, then our first session, Hazel and I together, Ken Follett and Kate Mosse, two amazing historical novelists, talking. How do they start? He maps out an outline, she launches in, having gone through a total immersion in the period. Her characters speak to her.

We’re in a safe zone, as I am at 2.30, listening to Katherine Rundell being interviewed with her adult (Faber) and children’s (Bloomsbury) editors.  Her book, Super-Infinite, on John Donne, is marvellous, but she is also a hugely popular children’s author, her last being the much-acclaimed Incredible Creatures. She is super-bright and self-assured. She enjoys roof-climbing and tight-rope walking and turns cartwheels before breakfast.

But we lose something of that self-assurance and sure-footedness at 4pm. The subjects are, or should be, challenging. Hazel is off to hear Caitlin Moran talking about men, and feeling sorry for boys who don’t quite know their role any more as women rise higher. My session is a panel taking about ‘The Limits of Comedy’. ‘Play the room’ was the main message from comedy writer Joel Morris. And don’t pitch too low, that is, don’t play too safe. You can only find the limits by playing to them.

The problem – comedy goes viral, it slips out to where it was not intended to go, and offence is caused. For Morris (I’m quoting from an article on the Chortle website, marking the publication of his new book, Be Funny or Die) that is in the very nature of things. ‘Comedy is meant to divide us, and delight us, to appeal to niche audiences … It’s meant to gather us in small tribes under the flag of whatever joke we, and only we, like best.’

5.30 Hazel listens to Channel 4’s international editor, the brilliant Lindsay Hilsum and two other very fine women journalists talking about the Gaza war. I should have been there.

I’ve chosen, as with comedy, something that’s important, but less in the limelight. Sadly, my session, Beyond Conflict: The Role of Libraries, with Elif Shafak and Priscilla Morris, and vice-patron of Book Aid International, Paul Boateng, in the chair, never quite takes off.  Priscilla Morris reads a passage from her novel, Black Butterflies, about the destruction of the National Library in Sarajevo. Ukraine and especially Gaza have seen libraries destroyed. Book Aid is doing a valiant job in Africa. Back home we have school libraries (and in the USA school librarians) threatened. Questions widen the debate but there’s too little on the action we might take. How can we extend the successful focus on literacy (and numeracy) in our schools to a love of reading and literature? And, indeed, history and music? 

History is my subject. If we forget, or learn our history through a distorting lens, we will indeed be condemned to relive it. Hay is part of a long and until recently ever-extending tradition of investigation and understanding and tolerance. The last fifteen years or so have, despite Obama, taken us in another direction. The message must be – yes, we still can.

The Hay Book Festival 2024: big money, mushrooms and make-or-break elections

It’s election time UK. (And in India. And in South Africa.) We’re waiting in a decision in the Trump trial. And… it’s the Hay Book Festival. A good place to get a wider perspective on events.

Two superb investigate journalists, Carole Cadwalladr and Tom Burgis, began my day. They were talking to Oliver Bullough. Burgis’s book, ‘Cuckooland’, is all about money buying access and influence, at the highest level. Burgis’s anti-hero is ‘communications entrepreneur, philanthropist and thought leader’ (as his Foundation describes him), and major Tory donor, Mohamed Amersi.

He brought a defamation case, which he lost, against former Tory MP Charlotte Leslie. She had investigated his background and he didn’t like the attention. Legal action was something he could take on without a moment’s thought, which wasn’t true for Leslie. Nor was it true of the legal action taken against Burgis himself in another case, which he won, brought by the Kazakhstan-based Eurasian Natural Resources Corporation (ENRC).

Carole Cadwalladr is well-known for her role in exposing the Cambridge Analytica scandal. But in a defamation case brought by Brexit funder Arron Banks she lost and had an award of £1 million costs against her. Crowdfunding came to her rescue.

Money will buy you the service of London lawyers at £600 an hour. SLAPPS, standing for ‘strategic lawsuits against public participation’, is an acronym which neatly sums up the way lawsuits are being used by the super-rich.

A whole new breed of super-rich arose out of the collapse of the Soviet Union. Today it involves oil and mining executives, mega-industrialists and indeed corporate lawyers across the globe. And, as they seek, and gain, influence, in the UK they can draw on Quintessentially, the ‘concierge’ services on one Ben Elliot, which acts as a broker for their much-paraded philanthropic instincts. Johnson elevated Elliot to the position of Tory party co-chair.

Just last month I was in Malaga, and admiring, if that’s the word, three super-yachts moored in the harbour. Status unknown, maybe for sale. The one-time owner of one was the co-founder of WhatsApp. Another, even grander, had been the plaything of a now-deceased Kazakh mining magnate.

My next event was amazingly and wonderfully different. The book: ‘Entangled Life’, by Merlin Sheldrake. Compare our brief lives and absurd ambitions with the rather longer life of plants, ‘which only made it out water 500 million years ago because of their collaboration with fungi…’ If we didn’t have fungi today we’d be under piles of waste miles high. (Or piles of shit if you prefer.) The myriad species of fungi are our disposal agents. Sheldrake’s book is an award-winning bestseller and he is himself a mesmerising and fluent speaker. Seek him out. Read his book!

Thomas Halliday’s wonderful book, ‘Otherlands’, a ‘reverse’ history of the last 500 million years, had the same effect on me. Both books inculcate a sense of wonder at the longevity and complexity of life of our planet. But they also demand our humility. And remind us that, if we want to hang around for a while, we’d do better supporting our planet rather than taking it apart.

I was back in the crisis world of now for my final session, with Matthew D’Ancona talking to Sarah Churchwell, Matt Frei and Carole Calwalladr. Subject: the UK and US elections. From the Wood Wild Web (the maybe-not-always benign subterranean network by which the myriad strands of fungi link up our above-ground world of plants and trees) to the World Wide Web. To the internet. To social media. Cadwalladr highlighted the role of ‘influencers’, who are everywhere.

Frei preferred to focus on Fox News and their role in breaking down that broad consensus which has held the USA together for more than two hundred years – based around an acceptance of the constitution, as interpreted by the Supreme Court, open to multiple interpretations but always operating through a trusted electoral system, and a Congress where both sides could talk, and on occasion work together.

Churchwell focused on a second-term Trump and how he would casually subvert this system, without remotely understanding himself what the consequences could be. Half of America believes that a Biden victory would be the end of democracy, half believes a Trump victory would be. Trump and indeed his acolytes such as Tim Scott refuse to say whether they will accept the result of the next election.

The UK election hardly got a look in. The Tories have shaken down to a rump where Grant Shapps is our defence minister. They’re easy about donations from the rich and powerful, and mercenary activities such as selling games of tennis with Boris, and dinner round at Michael Gove’s, for big sums. They’d like us to think this is the new normal.

I love the passion of Hay. We were a bunch, a mega-bunch, of serious and animated book lovers. It rained all day, but no one complained.

A small town in Yorkshire

The small town is Hebden Bridge, in West Yorkshire.

Politics doesn’t have a big part to play in this post. The focus is history, and a soon-to-be-published book that I’ve written. My aim has been to convey something of what life was like in a small industrial town, not all that long ago. We tend to think of our own world, our own time, as the only world, the only time that ever existed. We are wrapped up in our present – as they were then, in their own very powerful present, 150 years ago.

The book is entitled ‘A Place Apart: Hebden Bridge’, with the subtitle ‘as seen through the eyes of the Spencer family in the late nineteenth century’.

Hebden Bridge is well-known today for several very good reasons, but back then it won renown as the site of extraordinary growth, focused around the manufacture and sale of fustian, a kind of hardwearing cloth much used by miners and labourers. It became known as ‘Fustianopolis’. Out of this came many success stories as new mills and a wide variety of businesses flourished, and among them successful retailers such as my great grandfather, Joseph Spencer, a tailor and outfitter.

If your interested read further. What follows is the blurb on the back of the book. To order the book check out ‘A Place Apart: Hebden Bridge’ on Amazon. Or you should be able to order through a bookseller. The publication date is 1st March, so no copies available before then.

‘A Place Apart’ tells the story of the town through the experiences of three generations of the Spencer family. Mills dominated the landscape, along with the non-conformist chapels which gave a moral compass to people’s lives. Education was opened to everyone and, as working hours relaxed, people had time to relax and enjoy themselves.

‘The textile industry in the nineteenth century opened the Pennines to the world, and one small Yorkshire town which made its mark was Hebden Bridge. Sheltering below the moors, at a junction of two rivers, it excelled at making clothes for working men.

The book provides a valuable perspective on life and attitudes during the Victorian era, brought into an unfortunate focus in 1901 when the daughter of Joseph Spencer, a successful local tailor, found herself pregnant by a local lad. Reputations had to be preserved and the family left town. The business held on, but finally closed in 1907.

This wide-ranging portrait of the area’s social and industrial history is written by a descendant of the Spencer family, and features first-hand accounts, authoritative source material and contemporary illustrations. It provides an engaging, well-researched study of a town and its people at a time of immense change.’

**

‘This book offers a vivid account of the life of a small entrepreneur in a textile town providing an insight into the lives of those who rarely receive the attention of historians.’

Alan Fowler, formerly Principal Lecturer of Economic and Social History, Manchester Metropolitan University

‘Brilliant piece of writing. Once I started reading, I couldn’t put it down. A really interesting story told in great detail and with passion and pride.’

Michael Peel, local Hebden Bridge historian

**

An act of theft

Edmund Burke, whose heyday as a politician, and as a writer on politics, was the late eighteenth century, remains today the respectable face of the political right-wing. Often quoted, and much revered.

At least he was the ‘respectable face’ until the US-based Edmund Burke Foundation came along and adopted his name for their version of far-right conspiratorial conservatism. In its own words, ‘the Edmund Burke Foundation is a public affairs institute founded in January 2019 with the aim of strengthening the principles of national conservatism in Western and other democratic countries.’

Simply, to my mind, an act of theft. Taking a good man down, albeit some 225 years after his death.

It is a foolish liberal who trespasses on to territory which conservatives in our time are fighting over, but Burke more than merits attention. He believed in tradition, but it was an evolving tradition, based on where we are now, and not a throwback, an attempt to return to a lost age that never was. (For background on Burke, see Jesse Norman’s excellent biography, published in 2013.)

Burke’s most quoted words are ‘the little platoons’. We should ‘love the little platoon in society to which we belong’. We are part of an organic whole, and there is a natural hierarchy. Jesse Norman expands on this to focus on the supposed faults of the Enlightenment and liberal individualism, from which he argues many of the problems of modern society emanate. It’s interesting to read back ten years and see how David Cameron and Jesse Norman were promoting the idea of the ‘big society’.

Attacks on liberal individualism can take us to some unfortunate places.

Tim Montgomerie, founder of the Conservative Home website, in December 2019 praised Hungary’s ‘interesting early thinking’ on ‘the limits of liberalism’. (‘Short Cuts’, in the London Review of Books, 1st June 2023.) For an idea of what those limits might be, see below. Hungary is about the imposition of change, the imposition of values, Burke is about evolution.

Unlike those who claim to be his modern descendants Burke was also an astute judge of the realities of his time: arguing for financial reform, for greater freedoms and representation of Catholics in Ireland, and against the abuses perpetrated by the East India Company. If governments had listened to his wiser counsels the American War of Independence might have been avoided. And his reading of France after 1789, and how the revolution might and did play out, proved quite remarkably accurate.

The Glorious Revolution of 1688 had established the king-in-parliament as a successful modus operandi, and while the king alone might appoint his prime minister and cabinet, only with the approval of parliament could they operate with any degree of success. Political parties, in nascent form in Burke’s time, have provided the underpinning to parliamentary democracy as it has advanced over the last almost 350 years. And yet …

One feature of the new Tory Right has been an attempt to discredit parliament, witness the Daily Telegraph’s milking of the expenses scandal in 2008, and the attempt to elevate executive, or more specifically prime ministerial (Johnsonian) control.

Back to the Edmund Burke Foundation.

The recent National Conservatism Conference (NatCon, the eighth of its kind, the first in London), is a brainchild of the Edmund Burke Foundation, and attracted a lot of publicity. MPs Braverman and Rees-Mogg attended. So too, Michael Gove.

In June 2022 a group of National Conservatives put together a manifesto. Among the ten core principles: ‘the free market cannot be absolute’, the paramountcy of the Christian Bible, and severe restrictions on migration. A NatCon supporter and British MP Danny Kruger railed against faceless ‘powers that be … who are not on the side of the British people, but serve the abstractions of human rights, international law, or other signals of middle-class virtue’.

We are, with all this, living in the past – and with the danger that the future might lie with the likes of Orban and Erdogan, where parliament, media and judiciary are suborned, and where the religion of another age is called on to provide underpinning. Netanyahu it seems has similar ideas for Israel. Putin and Russian Orthodoxy is a story in itself.

For Burke ‘all the major religions were the products of custom, tradition and “long and prescriptive usage”’. (Norman, p91) He would have profoundly regretted our drift from religion but any notion of its reintroduction by diktat would have been, literally, inconceivable.  

How the NatCon Tories and how I read Edmund Burke are radically different. Let’s leave it at that.

Metropolitan – and other – elites

We’ve heard a lot of talk about elites. Am I part of one? With a university education. Middle class. Manchester-born and raised, I’ve lived in London for forty years. That may make me one of the one of the ‘metropolitan elite’.

Maybe I’m also an ‘anywhere’, someone’s who’s happy anywhere in the country, in the world, rather than a ‘somewhere’, someone whose happiest close to home. (We ‘anywheres’ are a species of public enemy.) Though, in truth, I’m both.

Then there’s Matthew Goodwin who imagines he understands the ‘ordinary working-man’, left behind in a hyper-globalised world by an elite who wilfully don’t care for his welfare. And yet – he fell in behind the free-traders, the globalisers, the Brexiteers who espoused a fanciful ‘global Britain’. Only, it seems the free traders aren’t responsible: it’s we university-educated types, who only care for themselves, according to Goodwin. Forgive our confusion.

Peter Turchin*, who I referred to in my last blog, defines four early warning signals for societies entering a disintegrative phase of a natural cycle to which all societies are prone. ‘Popular immiseration’ is the first phase, and the decline in real wages over the last fifty years can be seen as a cause of that. The fourth signal is competition and conflict between elites.

Turchin’s conclusions are based in some extraordinary statistical research but extrapolating to a natural cycle is a big leap. That said, is that what we have? A university-educated relatively liberal elite on one side and on the other a globalising free trade elite?

The curiosity has been the attempt of the free traders to get the ‘discontented masses’ on side, by adopting an anti-woke and socially conservative agenda, leading to the kind of populist rhetoric we’ve seen on both sides of the Atlantic, though far worse on the other side of the pond.

All this talk of elites has seriously, and dangerously, muddied the waters. Societies have always had and will always have elites of one kind or another, not least a financial and business elite, which has through history garnered wealth and privilege to itself, and an educated elite which seeks to pull up the drawbridge behind it.

There’s no better way of constraining that apparently built-in drift to elitism than a functioning liberal democracy which limits their influence on our politics and cuts the biggest egos who try to weaponise opinion down to size.

A nice, neat letter to Prospect magazine suggests that the ‘white working-class’ might actually want the same things as many other people, a decent job, a nice house, good schools – and, maybe, even, a university education of their children.

Make that our focus – and apply to everyone, all classes, colours and creeds. Not just white working-class males….

*Peter Turchin, End Times: Elites, Counter-Elites and the Path of Political Disintegration, published by Allen Lane

Travelling in India …

I began my last blog with a few words which may give a misleading impression.

‘All, on the surface, appears to be going well in India. The economy under Narendra Modi has momentum, a contrast to our own. Modi has a 77% approval rating. There was a sense of optimism among the people I spoke to.’

We returned from a two-week holiday in north-western India six weeks ago.

‘On the surface.’ I left open what might lie below the surface. India as envisaged by Nehru and the Congress Party in 1947 was to be a secular, non-aligned state. Nehru looked to the West, but also to communist Russia. India was partitioned, with terrible consequences, and the tension between India and its neighbour Pakistan is palpable, seventy-five years on, even to short-stay visitors. The army’s presence, in the areas where we travelled, is everywhere.

Over the last seventy years the Congress Party has gone into sharp decline and the fundamentalist Hindu party, the BJP, has taken hold of the levers of power, at a national and increasingly local level. The BJP under Narendra Modi has been in power since 2014.

In 1992 Hindu activists destroyed a mosque, at Ayodhya, on a site widely believed to have been the birthplace of the god Rama. If this act was symbolic of an India reconstituting as a Hindu state, the 2019 decision of the Modi government to revoke the status of Jammu and Kashmir, a predominantly Muslim territory, as a self-governing entity, and the transfer of power to the central government, was, and is, widely seen (outside India) as brutal act of suppression of Kashmiri, and Muslim, aspirations. Also pertinent is the 2019 legislation extending the National Register of Citizens to the whole country which would have the effect of leaving several million Muslims stateless.

Our own sampling of Hindu opinion during our stay in November suggested a disdain toward a Muslim population which is more and more ghettoised as threats and sometimes specific acts of violence increase. The irony of Delhi’s and Agra’s great tourist locations being Mughal and therefore Muslim forts and mausoleums, not least the Taj Mahal, seemed lost on our (otherwise splendid) Hindu guides.

All that said, India remains a functioning democracy of not far short of 1.4 billion people. We were in Shimla on election day for the state of Himachal Pradesh’s legislative assembly. We chatted to a friendly BJP teller outside a polling booth. (The BJP were noisily confident, but in this particular election they lost – and Congress won.)

The mood among the Hindu population was positive, almost aggressively optimistic. The economy is growing fast, and Modi, like him or not, is an influential figure on the world stage. The contrast I made in my last blog between the UK and India is for real.

And yet … quotes from my travel journal are apposite here:

‘Am I soft-pedalling on Modi too much? What of the Hindutva nationalist philosophy of the BJP? The Booker Prize winning novelist Arundhati Roy is no friend of the BJP. She writes in a recent book of essays of how “the holy cow and the holy script became of the chosen vehicles of (Hindu) mobilisation”. The “holy script” is Hindi…

… In The Times of India I read about a move to convert Christians among the Adivasi, India’s indigenous tribes, to Hinduism. Shivaji, the 17th century Marathi leader, is celebrated not least in movies as a Hindu proto-nationalist. The Shiv Sena movement, the leader of the local branch of which was shot the day before our arrival in Amritsar, is radical in its advocacy of a pure and dominant form of Hinduism. Muslim culture, and the Muslim population, which existed side by side with Hindu culture for many centuries, is under unrelenting pressure. And yet Bollywood still has many Muslim stars.’

Arundhati Roy, as an outspoken opponent of a regime increasingly hostile to dissent, lives dangerously. She sums up the situation, as she sees it, succinctly as follows. (The RSS is the ideological arm of the BJP.)

‘The abrogation of Kashmir’s special status, the promise of a National Register of Citizens, the building of the Ram temple in Ayodhya are all on the front burners of the RSS and BJP kitchen. To reignite flagging passions all they need to do is pick a villain from their gallery and unleash the dogs of war. There are several categories of villain, Pakistani jihadis, Kashmiri terrorists, Bangladeshi infiltrators or anyone of a population of nearly 200 million Indian Muslims who can always be accused of being Pakistan-lovers or anti-national traitors.’

India has a militant China on its Himalayan border. It needs a strong army and a strong leader. You could argue it now has both. And a growing economy. But the cost in terms of its move away from the secular and open society that Nehru aspired to has been a high one.