Ummah or Country? Internationalism or Patriotism? Tarek Fatah chats with Tahir Gora

 

Lessons from British democracy for us in India

 

''Our independence was accelerated due to World War-2's toll on UK': Shashi Tharoor Full Conversation

 

Boris Johnson claims the UK is rooting out dirty Russian money. That’s ludicrous

 Oliver Bullough in The Guardian

We were warned about Vladimir Putin – about his intentions, his nature, his mindset – and, because it was profitable for us, we ignored those warnings and welcomed his friends and their money. It is too late for us to erase our responsibility for helping Putin build his system. But we can still dismantle it and stop it coming back.

Russia is a mafia state, and its elite exists to enrich itself. Democracy is an existential threat to that theft, which is why Putin has crushed it at home and seeks to undermine it abroad. For decades, London has been the most important place not only for Russia’s criminal elite to launder its money, but also for it to stash its wealth. We have been the Kremlin’s bankers, and provided its elite with the financial skills it lacks. Its kleptocracy could not exist without our assistance. The best time to do something about this was 30 years ago – but the second best time is right now.

We journalists have long been writing about this, but it is not simply overheated rhetoric from overexcited hacks. Parliament’s intelligence and security committee wrote two years ago that our investigative agencies are underfunded, our economy is awash with dirty money, and oligarchs have bought influence at the very top of our society.

The committee heard evidence from senior law enforcement and security officials. It laid out detailed, careful suggestions for what Britain should do to limit the damage Putin has already done to our society. Instead of learning from the report and implementing its proposals, Boris Johnson delayed its publication until after the general election and then, when further delay became impossible, dismissed those who took its sober analysis seriously as “Islingtonian remainers” seeking to delegitimise Brexit.

That is the crucial context for Johnson’s ludicrous claim this week to the House of Commons that no government could “conceivably be doing more to root out corrupt Russian money”. That is not only demonstrably untrue, it is an inversion of reality. On leaving the European Union, we were told that we could launch our own independent sanctions regime – and this week we saw the fruit of it: a response markedly weaker than those of Brussels and Washington.

The Liberal Democrat MP Layla Moran, speaking with parliamentary privilege on Tuesday, listed the names of 35 alleged key Putin “enablers” whom the Russian opposition politician Alexei Navalny has asked to be sanctioned. Blocking the assets of everyone on that list and their close relatives would be a truly significant response from Johnson to the gravity of the situation. But it would still only be a start.

Relying solely on sanctions now is like stamping on a car’s accelerator when you’ve failed for years to maintain the engine, pump up the tyres or fill up the tank, yet still expect it to hit 95mph. Other announcements in the last couple of days have amounted to nothing more than painting on go-faster stripes. Tackling the UK’s role in enabling Putin’s kleptocracy, and containing the threat his allies pose to democracy here and elsewhere, will require far more than just banning golden visas or Kremlin TV stations.

For a start, we need to know who owns our country. Some 87,000 properties in England and Wales are owned via offshore companies – which prevents us seeing who their true owners are or if they were bought with criminal money. Companies House makes no checks on registrations, which is why UK shell structures have featured in most Russian money-laundering scandals. Imposing transparency on the ownership of dirty money in this way would strike at the heart of the London money-laundering machine. Governments have promised to do this “when parliamentary time allows” for years, yet the time has never been found, and instead they’ve listened to concerns from the City that such regulations would harm its competitiveness.

Above all, we need to fund our enforcement agencies as generously as oligarchs fund their lawyers: you can’t fight grand corruption on the cheap. Even good policies of recent years, such as the “unexplained wealth orders” of 2017, which were designed to tackle criminally owned assets hidden behind clever shell structures, have largely failed because investigators lack the funds to use them. We must spend what it takes to drive kleptocratic cash out of the country.

Johnson is not the first prime minister to fail to rise to the challenge – Tony Blair and David Cameron both schmoozed with Putin even when it was obvious what kind of a leader he was. And I don’t think Johnson is personally corrupt or tainted by Russian money; he’s lazy, flippant and unwilling to launch expensive, laborious initiatives that will bring results only long after he himself has left office and is unable to take the credit for them. It is time, however, for his colleagues to step up and force him into action. This is a serious moment, and it requires serious people willing to invest in the long-term security of our country and the future of democracy everywhere.

Fraudsters of the world, come to London. And bring your dirty money

Kleptocrats love this country, knowing full well they’ll be free from proper scrutiny writes Nick Cohen in The Guardian

‘No one can say how many in the UK are living off immoral earnings.’ Illustration: Dominic McKenzie/The Observer 



There is no better representation of the decline of the English upper class into the global rich’s servant class than Ben Elliot. On the one hand, the co-chairman of the Tory party is now a rent collector, hauling in money for the Johnson administration from the Russian rich and native hedge fund bosses.

On the other, he is an actual servant: an upmarket flunkey, to be sure, praised by society magazines for his “puppyish schoolboy charm”, but a flunkey nonetheless. Elliot is a founder of the Quintessentially “concierge” service that gives the super-rich anything they want: luncheon on an iceberg; the Sydney Harbour bridge closed for a wedding proposal. There’s nothing Elliot won’t do for paying customers up to and including arranging a meeting with our future sovereign. Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall, is Elliot’s aunt and it appears that no considerations of good form or good manners have prevented him monetising the connection. Not that the prince appears to mind. A Quintessentially advert interrupts a montage of shots of yachts and celebrities to quote his royal highness as saying he is “particularly grateful” to Quintessentially for organising a party he attended. Members of Elliot’s Quintessentially club donate to the Conservatives. The Conservatives gave Elliot £1.4m of taxpayers’ money in 2016 to “attract the right high-value individual investors to the UK through bespoke programmes”. If on arrival, those high-value individuals went on to show how valuable they were by hiring Quintessentially and donating to the Tories, the circle would be complete.

Upstairs has moved downstairs in the remains of the Tory day and a large segment of British capitalism is now employed as the best servants money can buy. The law, PR, City, estate agency and banking know that easy riches come from serving the large part of the world where it pays to forget Balzac’s warning that the secret of a great fortune no one can explain is invariably an undetected crime. For want of an agreed name I propose “Corruptistan” to cover Russia and the ex-Soviet states, the kleptocracies of Africa and the Middle East and probably soon China as the communist elite learns how to expatriate its wealth. 

Given the secrecy of the financial system, the defunding of the police and regulatory authorities and the English libel law, no one can say how many in the UK are living off immoral earnings. But two statistics and one quotation give us a measure of the UK’s dependency culture. Graeme Biggar, of the National Economic Crime Centre, said a “disturbing proportion” of criminal money from the old Soviet Union is “laundered through UK corporate structures”. Companies House, meanwhile, has become a front organisation for organised crime. So welcoming is it to criminals that 335,000 of its listed companies do not reveal the name of their beneficial owners. And 4,000 of the names it appears to reveal turn out on close inspection to belong to children aged two or under.

Last month, Professor Sadiq Isah Radda, a Nigerian anti-corruption official, encapsulated the consequences of the UK’s tolerance of theft. An opponent of corruption in Nigeria, home to countless online scams? A joke figure, you might think. But Radda spoke with a seriousness no government minister can muster when he said the UK was “the most notorious safe haven for looted funds in the world today”. The corruption we facilitate destablised Nigeria and, he might have added, many other countries besides.

Last week, a handful of MPs asked why the Conservatives were so peculiarly soft on this particular crime. In 2017, they promised a law that would compel the foreign owners of UK property to reveal their identities. (The willingness to allow private and state criminals to launder their wealth anonymously through the prime London property market was Radda’s main charge against Boris Johnson.) Nothing has been heard of this bold “anti-corruption strategy” since.

Likewise, the government has said it wants to stop Companies House being a crime scene where anyone can set up a firm without proof of identity or the most cursory checks. Even the Conservative party appeared to agree that it should not be harder to apply for a passport than to set up a shell company. But once again nothing happened.As for the recommendations in the Russia report on money laundering, they vanished as soon as they were made.

The SNP’s Alison Thewliss asked: “I wonder who benefits from this delay. Is it the oligarchs and those to whom they donate?” Pat McFadden, Labour’s shadow chief secretary to the Treasury, asked Conservative MPs why they thought “their party has been such an attractive destination” for £2m in gifts from Russian donors.” Change must come soon or not at all. Britain has benefited so greatly from the wealth of the corrupt we may soon be at the stage where we cannot afford to clean ourselves up. So many people are making so much money, what was once outrageous has become normal. This to my mind is why the security services and the judges just shrug when oligarchs with links to hostile foreign powers use the intimidatory costs of England’s unreformed legal system to menace critics. No one likes hard questions about a nation’s guilty secrets, not even the men and women who are professionally obliged to ask them. Labour certainly believes that tolerance of fraud is now part of the government’s economic strategy and the Treasury wants to loosen what few protections exist to compensate the financial services industry for the Brexit debacle.

Cynical readers may not care as long as the UK can wallow in streams of hot money. They should recall how many times con artists have tried to fleece them. Online fraud is the crime you are most likely to suffer from, yet nowhere in the government’s online safety bill is there a word about fighting the fraudsters who flourish on social media platforms. Once the Tories started turning a blind eye, they found it impossible to stop.

You cannot profit from economic crimes committed abroad while enjoying the rule of law at home. The presence of the global plutocracy’s valets at the top of government and society shows the UK no longer even bothers to pretend that it can.

Britain out of the EU: a treasure island for rentiers

There’s no sign that ministers will use the twin shocks of the pandemic and Brexit to fix a broken system that is failing too many people opine the editors of The Guardian

‘Culturally, Brexit plays the same sort of role as the right to buy, insulating poorer leave voters from the idea that they will suffer from the resulting policies.’ Photograph: Christopher Furlong/Getty Images
 

When the UK entered the coronavirus age in March, state resources and collective commitment were mobilised on a scale not seen since the second world war. Decades ago, Britain had revealed itself, thanks in part to being able to marshal the industrial might of the empire, to be a formidable world power. Its economy was energised with breakthroughs in radar, atomic power and medicine.

Although the story of the pandemic has not yet ended, there appears to be no such transformation in sight under Boris Johnson. Rather depressingly, familiar trends of greed, incompetence and cronyism are reasserting themselves. This is bad news for an economy where there has been a collapse of socially useful innovation. Britain’s lack of hi-tech manufacturing capabilities, notably in medical diagnostic testing, was cruelly exposed by the pandemic.

This country has become more of a procurer than a producer of technology. But it is a remarkably inefficient one – despite an extraordinarily high percentage of lawyers and accountants in the working population. Connections seem to matter more than inventions. How else to explain why, in the desperate scramble to procure personal protective equipment, ventilators and coronavirus tests, billions of pounds of contracts have gone to companies either run by friends or supporters – even neighbours – of Conservative politicians, or with no prior expertise.

History is not short of examples where political insiders were successful in extracting virtually all the surplus that the economy created. Such influential interests moulded politics to enlarge their share of the pie. Greed was limited only by the need to let the producers survive. The shock of war, revolution, famine or plague provides an opportunity to fix a broken society. But if, post-pandemic, UK politicians care less about reform than the retention of power, they will fail to restrain the grasping enrichment that undermines democracy itself.

Windfall profits

Perhaps the most penetrating X-ray of this phenomenon today is by Brett Christophers in his book Rentier Capitalism. The academic makes the case that Britain has become a treasure island for those seeking excess profits from state-sanctioned control of natural resources, property, financial assets and intellectual property. Rent, paid by renters to rentiers, is tied to the ownership or control of such assets, made scarce under conditions of limited or no competition.

Mr Christophers says that the first sign of this new order was when Britain struck black gold in the North Sea. He writes that MPs on the public accounts committee noted with incredulity in 1972 that “the first huge areas of the sea were leased to the companies as generously as though Britain were a gullible Sheikhdom”. After that, public assets were sold off cheaply. The private sector ended up controlling lightly regulated monopolies in gas, water and electric supply, and public transport and telecoms. Customers lost out, overpaying for poor service. In a rentier’s paradise, windfall profits abound. Brazenly occupying the lowest moral ground was essential, as the housebuilder Persimmon proved by earning supersized state-backed help-to-buy profits long enough to hand out a £75m bonus to its boss.

The banks, which took this country to the brink of collapse a decade ago, are at the heart of a rentier state. France, Germany, Japan, the US all have banking sectors smaller than the UK. While banks earning rents have flourished, the households paying them – either directly as financial consumers, or indirectly as taxpayers of a debtor state or customers of debtor firms – have floundered.

The anger that such spivvery engenders is diffused politically by making voters complicit in the theft. The sell-off of council homes, says Mr Christophers, was a privatisation that gave many of those perhaps most inclined to kick against Thatcherism a personal stake in the project. Culturally, Brexit plays the same sort of role as the right to buy, insulating poorer leave voters from the idea that they will suffer from the resulting policies.

The prime minister understands that Covid can change Britain, but lacks modernising policies. He extols the virtues of free competition – both for itself and because such freedom, he reasons, will somehow liberate the spirit fluttering within a pre-Brexit Britain caged by coronavirus. He is no doubt betting that the disruption of leaving the EU will be lost in the roar of an economy taking off as an inoculated population returns to offices and shops.

Weakened regulations

The gap between rich and poor in the UK is at least as high today, academics calculate, as it was just before the start of the second world war. This is largely because the British state that once mediated the struggle between labour and capital has been taken over by rentiers. Weakening regulations, reducing the importance of fiscal policy and shredding social protections has corroded liberal democracy in which an increasingly influential wealthy few have been enjoying a free run. Ultimately, rentiers want to increase what the economist Michał Kalecki called the “degree of monopoly” in an economy. This allows them to limit the ability of workers, consumers and regulators to influence the markup of selling prices over costs and to defend the share of wages in output.

The EU says its labour, environment and customer protections are a floor, not a ceiling, and that they can’t be traded away for frictionless market access. If we had stayed in the club, our ability to concentrate profits for monopolists would have been stymied in future trade deals negotiated by Brussels and open to MEPs’ scrutiny. Outside the EU, Mr Johnson can barter away such regulations – without parliamentary oversight – and scrap safeguards in new technology for higher monopoly profits. Karl Marx wrote in The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte in 1852 that “the Tories in England long fancied that they were in raptures about royalty, the church and the beauties of the ancient constitution, until a time of trial tore from them the confession that they were only in raptures about rent”. His assessment of early 19th-century Tories applies with unerring accuracy to today’s Conservatives.

Mr Christophers’ insight is that the Tories under Mr Johnson are a party of – and for – rentiers, much more than the interests of productive capital. This explains why, after 2016, the Tory party embraced Brexit and shrugged off productive capital’s concerns about leaving the EU. It will be to the great detriment of this country if the pandemic permitted Mr Johnson to combine present-day fears with a yearning for hopeful change to persuade the average person to vote against their interests in the future. But history often repeats itself first as tragedy, then as farce.

How UK-EU trade deal will change relations between Britain and Brussels

Sam Fleming and Jim Brunsden in The FT

The future relationship deal struck between the UK and the EU (24 Dec 2020) will bring far-reaching changes, as both sides are forced to adapt to the end of Britain’s 30-year membership of the European single market

---Also watch

.--- 

The trade agreement between London and Brussels will offer UK and EU companies preferential access to each other’s markets, compared with basic World Trade Organization rules — ensuring imported goods will be free of tariffs and quotas. 

But economic relations between the UK and the EU from January 1, when the deal is due to take effect, will be on more restricted terms than they are now.  

“Everyone needs to get prepared for a situation next year that will be very different to today,” said an EU official. 

A trade agreement along the lines of the one negotiated between the two sides will leave Britain facing a 4 per cent loss of potential gross domestic product over 15 years compared with EU membership, according to the UK’s Office for Budget Responsibility. Failure to secure an agreement would have led to lost potential GDP of almost 6 per cent, the fiscal watchdog estimated. 

Below are some of the benefits conferred by the UK-EU future relationship deal, which also includes security co-operation — and the important areas in which Britain’s links with the bloc will fall short of existing arrangements. 

1. Trade in goods  

The EU and UK’s starting point for the future relationship talks was that they should lead to a deal with no tariffs on trade in goods between the two sides. They also wanted no quantitative restrictions on the volume of goods that could be sold free of tariffs.  

That was negotiated, meaning the deal will go beyond what the EU has done with any other advanced economy outside the European single market.  

But the agreement is still a very different state of affairs to membership of the EU single market and customs union. 

Once implemented, from January 1, a hard customs and regulatory border will exist between the EU and UK, and goods will face checks and controls that can be smoothed at the margins only by co-operation. 

The deal will include facilitations such as co-operation on trusted trader schemes, but none of these erase border checks. 

“The agreement provides for continued and sustainable air, road, rail and maritime connectivity, though market access falls below what the single market offers,” said the European Commission.

2. Fair business competition 

The EU’s offer on tariff-free trade was contingent on the UK agreeing to uphold a “level playing field” on fair business competition in areas such as environmental standards. 

Brussels was also keen to ensure the UK does not have unfettered scope to disburse state aid to prized industries, giving them a competitive advantage.  

The agreement includes common binding principles on state aid, enforceable in both sides’ courts, which would be able to recover illegal subsidies. 

It also includes a painstakingly negotiated “rebalancing mechanism” to deal with a situation where the sides’ regulations in areas such as labour rights diverge over time. 

The mechanism, which would be subject to independent arbitration, would allow the disadvantaged side to impose tariffs to restore fair competition. 

But, crucially for the UK, it will not be required to follow EU rules directly or be subject to the jurisdiction of the European Court of Justice. 

Being outside the European single market has other regulatory consequences for Britain. For example, UK businesses will no longer be able to assume that product authorisations from British watchdogs will allow their goods to be placed on the European market.  

3. Fish 

The deal creates a five-and-a-half-year transition period during which EU fishermen will have guaranteed access to UK waters. 

EU quotas in British waters will decline in the transition by 25 per cent compared with current levels, and this will have the knock-on effect of boosting how much UK fishermen can secure. EU boats currently catch about €650m of fish in British waters each year. 

Once the transition period is over, EU boats’ access to UK waters will in principle depend on annual negotiations between both sides. Those talks will also determine the overall quantities of different species that can be caught. 

Should EU boats’ access to British waters ever be revoked by the UK, the bloc will have the right to take compensatory measures. These include retaliatory closing of EU waters to UK boats, and the imposition of tariffs on British fish. 

The deal also links the UK’s access to the EU energy market to access to British fishing waters. 

The UK warded off EU demands for a cross-retaliation power to hit other parts of the British economy should a dispute over fish escalate. 

Still, the deal does provide a last-resort “safeguard” option that would allow either side to take emergency measures to protect coastal communities, subject to dispute-settlement arrangements in the agreement. 

The deal enshrines the principle that Britain is now outside the EU’s common fisheries policy: an independent coastal state with sovereignty over its waters. 

4. Financial services 

The City of London will exit the EU’s single market for financial services at the end of the Brexit transition period on December 31. 

Both sides have said that the new market access arrangements for UK and EU financial services companies should be based on unilateral decisions by Britain and the bloc, rather than be provided for in the trade agreement. 

These so-called equivalence decisions involve each side evaluating whether the other’s financial services regulations are as tough as its own. 

Banks and traders have acknowledged that the proposed system is more piecemeal than existing arrangements, and less stable. The EU did not announce any fresh equivalence decisions on UK access to the bloc’s markets alongside the trade agreement on Thursday, resulting in uncertainty in key areas including share trading and derivatives. 

The two sides plan to put in place a regulatory dialogue on financial services based on a separate memorandum of understanding. 

5. Migration 

Current British and EU expatriates have their rights safeguarded by the UK’s 2019 withdrawal agreement with the bloc, but big changes to migration arrangements take effect from January 1. 

Britons will no longer have the benefit of European freedom of movement: the right to go to any EU member state and seek to work and live there on the same basis as the country’s own citizens.  

Instead, Britons will rely on a visa-waiver programme to travel to the EU for short stays, and on member states’ national rules for the right to work.  

Ending free movement for EU nationals in the UK was identified by the British government as one of the benefits of Brexit, allowing the country to devise a new immigration system.  

6. Security 

The EU and UK have been at pains to emphasise the importance of continuing co-operation in the fight against terrorism and organised crime, although talks in this area were complicated by Britain’s determination to escape the ECJ’s jurisdiction. 

But ahead of the deal being finalised, EU chief negotiator Michel Barnier confirmed the sides had found ways to maintain “close co-operation” on crucial matters including the work of the bloc’s crime-fighting agencies Europol and Eurojust, and the sharing of criminals’ DNA data. 

Brussels said the deal “builds new operational capabilities, taking account of the fact that the UK, as a non-EU member . . . will not have the same facilities as before”.  

The deal establishes that security co-operation can be suspended if the UK breaks away from the European Convention on Human Rights. 

The UK is one of the most corrupt nations on Earth

Fortunes are being made by political favourites, while Brexit could cement London’s reputation for money laundering writes George Monbiot in The Guardian

‘Awarding coronavirus contracts to unusual companies, without advertising, transparency or competition now appears to have been adopted as the norm.’ Photograph: Andrew Milligan/PA


Fear, shame, embarrassment: these brakes no longer apply. The government has discovered that it can bluster through any scandal. No minister need resign. No one need apologise. No one need explain.

As public outrage grows over the billions of pounds of coronavirus contracts issued by the government without competition, it seems determined only to award more of them. Never mind that the consulting company Deloitte, whose personnel circulate in and out of government, has been strongly criticised for the disastrous system it devised to supply protective equipment to the NHS. It has now been granted a massive new contract to test the population for Covid-19. 

Never mind that some of these contracts have reportedly cost taxpayers £800 for every protective overall delivered. Never mind that at least two multi-million pound contracts appear to have been issued to dormant companies. Awarding contracts to unusual companies, without advertising, transparency or competition now appears to have been adopted as the norm. Several of the firms that have benefited from this largesse are closely linked to senior figures in the government.

Every week, Boris Johnson looks more like George I, under whose government vast fortunes were made by political favourites, through monopoly contracts for military procurement. Any pretence of fiscal rectitude or democratic accountability has been abandoned. With four more years and the support of the billionaire press, who cares?

The way the government handles public money looks to me like an open invitation to corruption. While it is hard to show that any individual deal is corrupt, the framework under which this money is dispensed invites the perception.

When you connect the words corruption and the United Kingdom, people tend to respond with shock and anger. Corruption, we believe, is something that happens abroad. Indeed, if you check the rankings published by Transparency International or the Basel Institute, the UK looks like one of the world’s cleanest countries. But this is an artefact of the narrow criteria they use.

As Jason Hickel points out in his book The Divide, theft by officials in poorer nations amounts to between $20bn and $40bn a year. It’s a lot of money, and it harms wellbeing and democracy in those countries. But this figure is dwarfed by the illicit flows of money from poor and middling nations that are organised by multinational companies and banks. The US research group Global Financial Integrity estimates that $1.1tn a year flows illegally out of poorer nations, stolen from them through tax evasion and the transfer of money within corporations. This practice costs sub-Saharan Africa around 6% of its GDP.

The looters rely on secrecy regimes to process and hide their stolen money. The corporate tax haven index published by the Tax Justice Network shows that the three countries that have done most to facilitate this theft are the British Virgin Islands, Bermuda and the Cayman Islands. All of them are British territories. Jersey, a British dependency, comes seventh on the list. These places are effectively satellites of the City of London. But because they are overseas, the City can benefit from “nefarious activities … while allowing the British government to maintain distance when scandals arise”, says the network. The City of London’s astonishing exemption from the UK’s freedom of information laws creates an extra ring of secrecy.

The UK also appears to be the money-laundering capital of the world. In a devastating article, Oliver Bullough revealed how easy it has become to hide your stolen loot and fraudulent schemes here, using a giant loophole in company law: no one checks the ownership details you enter when creating your company. You can, literally, call yourself Mickey Mouse, with a registered address on Mars, and get away with it. Bullough discovered owners on the Companies House site called “Xxx Stalin” and “Mr Mmmmmm Xxxxxxxxxxx”, whose address was given as “Mmmmmmm, Mmmmmm, Mmm, MMM”. One investigation found that 4,000 company owners, according to their submitted details, were under the age of two.

By giving false identities, company owners in the UK can engage in the industrial processing of dirty money with no fear of getting caught. Even when the UK’s company registration system was revealed as instrumental to the world’s biggest known money-laundering scheme, the Danske Bank scandal, the government turned a blind eye.

A new and terrifying book by the Financial Times journalist Tom Burgis, Kleptopia, follows a global current of dirty money, and the murders and kidnappings required to sustain it. Again and again, he found, this money, though it might originate in Russia, Africa or the Middle East, travels through London. The murders and kidnappings don’t happen here, of course: our bankers have clean cuffs and manicured nails. The National Crime Agency estimates that money laundering costs the UK £100bn a year. But it makes much more. With the money come people fleeing the consequences of their crimes, welcomed into this country through the government’s “golden visa” scheme: a red carpet laid out for the very rich. 

None of this features in the official definitions of corruption. Corruption is what little people do. But kleptocrats in other countries are merely clients of the bigger thieves in London. Processing everyone else’s corruption is the basis of much of the wealth of this country. When you start to understand this, the contention by the author of Gomorrah, Roberto Saviano, that the UK is the most corrupt nation on Earth, begins to make sense.

These activities are a perpetuation of colonial looting: a means by which vast riches are siphoned out of poorer countries and into the hands of the super-rich. The UK’s great and unequal wealth was built on colonial robbery: the land and labour stolen in Ireland, America and Africa, the humans stolen by slavery, the $45tn bled from India.

Just as we distanced ourselves from British slave plantations in the Caribbean, somehow believing that they had nothing to do with us, now we distance ourselves from British organised crime, much of which also happens in the Caribbean. The more you learn, the more you realise that this is what it’s really about: grand larceny is the pole around which British politics revolve.

A no-deal Brexit, which Boris Johnson seems to favour, is likely to cement the UK’s position as the global entrepot for organised crime. When the EU’s feeble restraints are removed, under a government that seems entirely uninterested in basic accountability, the message we send to the rest of the world will be even clearer than it is today: come here to wash your loot.

We can't talk about racism without understanding whiteness

To dismantle racial hierarchy, we need to start by discussing the power it grants those on top writes Priyamvada Gopal in The Guardian
 

 

Manchester City and Burnley players - and the referee, Andre Marriner - take a knee before their match at the Etihad Stadium last month. Photograph: Michael Regan/NMC/EPA


When it comes to race and racism, we focus on those at the sharp end of discrimination – from black people routinely subjected to police brutality to people of colour missing from positions of influence. Progressive ideals invoke “inclusion” for ethnic minorities, or special bias training. These measures may be necessary, but they put the focus squarely on those subjected to victimisation – rather than the system that perpetuates racism.

What results is a form of benevolence whereby some people of colour get “included” as part of diversity measures, even as social hierarchies and habits of thought in white-majority societies remain largely unchanged.


There is no point in declaring that race doesn’t make a difference or that equality exists when it clearly doesn’t


The truth is that there is nothing pleasant about confronting the reality of an acute racial hierarchy. If the racial order is really to change – and there are those who don’t want it to – it is not just black lives or racial minorities that should be the topic of discussion, but the racial ideology that currently calls the shots in western societies.

This is what brings us to “whiteness” – which is not a biological category so much as a set of ideas and practices about race that has emerged from a bedrock of white supremacy, itself the legacy of empire and slavery. Confronting the idea of whiteness involves far more uncomfortable discussions than “inclusion”, especially for people deemed white, since it involves self-examination and acknowledging ugly truths, both historical and contemporary. It is simply easier to try to shut it out or down. 

I found this out to my cost last week when I tweeted a response to the racially inflammatory “White Lives Matter” banner flown over the Etihad Stadium after Manchester City and Burnley footballers had “taken the knee” to honour George Floyd. My tweet, deliberately playing with the wording of the banner by qualifying it, made the point that white lives cannot be deemed to matter because they are white, that it should not be whiteness that gives those lives value. In addition to the tsunami of racist sewage that immediately came my way, littered with N-words and P-words along with sexist slurs, rape fantasies, death threats and open declarations that “white lives matter more”, I was repeatedly asked why, if white lives did not matter as white lives, do black lives matter? Was that also not also racist?

No, it is not also racist. White lives already matter more than others so to keep proclaiming they matter is to add excess value to them, tilting us dangerously into white supremacy. This doesn’t mean that all white people in western societies are materially well-off or don’t experience hardship, but that they don’t do so by virtue of the fact that they are white. Black lives remain undervalued and in order for us to get to the desirable point where all lives (really do) matter, they must first achieve parity by mattering. It’s not really that hard to understand unless you choose not to.

Studies of “whiteness” are not new. Respected scholars, such as the late Noel Ignatiev, author of How the Irish Became White, and David Roediger, have studied the history and sociology of whiteness in great detail. Ignatiev, who was Jewish, wrote about the “abolition of whiteness”, not as a call to eliminate white people but a system of racial entitlement that necessarily relied on the exclusion of those deemed to be lesser. For Ignatiev, whiteness was not a biological fact so much as a kind of ideological club where “the members go through life accepting the benefits of membership, without thinking about the cost” to others.
Over time, people have been added to the club and aspire to membership of it, from the Irish and European Jews to many Asians today. One distinctive feature of whiteness as ideology is that it can make itself invisible and thereby make its operations more lethal and harder to challenge. Science and the humanities are largely in accord that “race” is not a biological category, but a way of creating power differentials, which have practical consequences. If that power differential in western societies is to be removed, then the ideology at the top – whiteness – must be abolished. Only then can the abolition of all other racial categories – and the post-racial world we so often claim to espouse – actually follow.

Although in Britain I am racialised as “non-white” or Asian, in my birth country of India I have some experience of what it is like to be a member of a powerful but invisible ruling category. As a Brahmin (the “highest-ranking” tier of the deeply hierarchical Hindu caste system), I belong to a social grouping that operates much like whiteness does. It rules the roost, is not disadvantaged by virtue of caste (though there are those who might suffer from poverty or misogyny), and it treats any challenge to its power as a form of victimisation or “reverse oppression”. For the record, there is no such thing: oppression only operates downwards. This is why, at the same time as I reinforced Ignatiev’s call for the abolition of “whiteness”, I repeated that Brahmin supremacy in India must also be abolished.

One of my less discourteous correspondents last week asked me, using only one expletive, why people “need a manual for race relations” when we could just respect each other. Unfortunately, until we get to a point where all lives really do matter, there is no point in declaring that race doesn’t make a difference or that equality exists, when it clearly doesn’t. “White lives matter” implicitly suggests whites matter more than others. “Black lives matter” is saying those lives need to matter more than they have, that society needs to give them more weight. Until we square up to the ugly realities of how whiteness operates – lethally, invisibly, powerfully – we are doomed to fighting a toxic and pointless culture war, where the only winners are those who want hatred to prevail.

Britain's persistent racism cannot simply be explained by its imperial history

It played its part, but empire does not explain all of Britain’s record of elitism, exploitation and discrimination writes David Edgerton in The Guardian


 

Enoch Powell electioneering in his Wolverhampton constituency, 1970. Photograph: Leonard Burt/Getty Images


The question of empire has become central to discussions of Britain’s national past. Some see residual imperialism as the prime element in a deficient, delusional, racist culture. Others think emphasising the dark underside of empire is an attempt to erase British history. The problem is that although long historical tradition sanctions criticism of imperialism, national history has proved far more resistant.

Talk of empire is now omnipresent, but it was previously written out of history. In the 1940s the unashamed imperialist Winston Churchill didn’t offer an imperial history of the second world war, or even a national one, but an Anglo-American, cold-war version of events in his six-volume work, The Second World War. Subsequently, what’s striking about postwar historiography is the lack of imperialist histories and the absence of condemnation for nationalist and anti-imperial forces. At most there were sotto voce claims that the British empire should have done a deal with Adolf Hitler in 1940 to keep itself alive.

More importantly, national histories ignored empire altogether. The reason is easy to find: after the war, a new nation arose that wanted to tell a national, not imperial, history of itself. This story was about the dawn of the welfare state, the Labour party and the National Health Service. This country’s ancestry lay in the industrial 19th century, but it only became a true nation in 1940, during the Battle of Britain and the blitz.

Putting the empire in its proper historical place is hugely important for understanding the sheer scale of slavery, the racialised nature of the imperial project, and how this project shaped the Conservative party into the 1950s. For much of the elite, the UK was seen as a part of something far bigger: the empire. This is why we have an Imperial War Museum and an Imperial College, and why the head of the army was called the chief of the imperial general staff. Britain’s second world war, as it was understood at the time, involved the whole British empire (and many, many allies). In 1940, no one in authority could say “Britain stood alone”. If anything was alone, it was the entire empire.

It’s also important to remember the important role anti-imperialism played for radical liberals and socialists. Radical liberals in 19th-century Britain criticised imperialism as the cause of unnecessary wars, and for sustaining a useless elite. More recently, the British centre-left has cited imperialism as the cause of war, militarism, nuclear weapons, economic decline, the failure to join the common market in the 1950s, and the failure to adapt to it since. For some historians, the demons and ghosts of empire are the spectres driving contemporary racism and Brexit, too. The UK, according to these critics, seems perpetually trapped in an Edwardian imperial mindset.

Blaming empire is a deep-seated reflex that feels reassuringly progressive. But it has also been a way to avoid confronting things that lie a little closer to home. It has long been easier, and less morally and intellectually contentious, to castigate the actions of the British state and elite in faraway colonies than confront their actions at home. Far too many ills of past and present are lazily laid at this door.

To make empire the dominant story in British history is to misunderstand the nature of Britain, its elite and its exploitative power, and its persistent racism. The racism of Oswald Mosley and Enoch Powell, for all its roots in the past, was a self-consciously post-imperial nationalist one. Imperialism reluctantly granted British Caribbean people UK citizenship. These rights were stripped away by nationalists, right down to Theresa May – this was the essence of the Windrush scandal. People voted for Brexit not because they were imperialists, but because they were nostalgic for a national Britain. They were certainly not voting for the return to free immigration from the old imperial territories. The history that seems to matter most to Brexiteers is a particular account of the second world war, one that is decidedly nationalist.

Empire has only ever been part of the British story, but it can never stand for the whole. Even at its peak, it represented only a fraction of Britain’s relations with the rest of the world, not least in war, but also in trade. From the late 19th century onwards, the Caribbean empire was tiny in terms of trade and population compared with Canada and Australia. In population numbers, India accounted for four-fifths of the entire empire, but trade with India was significantly less important than trade with the dominions. And the history of migration to and from the UK stretches wider than the empire, too – with people flowing into and out of the country to the US and from Europe. Britain’s global history, in other words, is not the same as its imperial history.

If we want to look for great silences in our history, empire is hardly the only one. There has been a glaring hole where the history of British capitalism and the British capitalist class should be; in its place are overwrought stories of decline and of imperial finance. The neglect of the British working class is particularly stunning. Giants of (anti-imperialist) postwar history such as EP Thompson and Eric Hobsbawm made this their field, and inspired countless others in a historical endeavour that peaked in the 1970s, but has since decayed even more rapidly than the industrial working class. Around 1900, Britain’s industrial proletariat was one of the three largest in the world, comparable to those of the US and Germany. The British working class alone accounted for roughly 30% of the population of the entire empire outside India, and a far higher proportion of those producing for capitalist markets.

There are many aspects of British history – many dark sides, too – other than imperialism. We should not admit the framing of the debate about history as a question of a dark imperial history sullying a bright national story. To do so would be to ignore a more difficult truth: all our national history needs rethinking.

Britain and Covid-19

by Giffenman

This is an unusual time for the whole world as it deals with the Corona pandemic. In my opinion when the crisis ends our world will be an entirely different place from what it was in early 2020. Every one’s consciousness would have been affected by coping with the disease and I hope it will result in a different and more egalitarian politics.

The Corona pandemic has laid bare the unpreparedness of the UK government to the crisis. Its much touted public health system, the NHS, has been found short of equipment, manpower and ideas to cope with the disease. The NHS had warned the government in 2016 about its inability to cope in the case of such a breakout but the report was suppressed. This is not surprising since governments since the 1980s have been privatising the NHS by stealth.

Boris Johnson, the British Prime Minister, did not want the UK to respond like China, Korea or Germany did to Covid-19. He wanted to use Darwinian principles of ‘survival of the fittest’ and get Britons to develop herd immunity. It could be that he was aware that the NHS was in no position to cope with the pandemic and did not want the facts exposed. His ultimate ignominy was that he was afflicted by Corona and has spent the last few nights in a NHS hospital.

The biggest surprise in this period has been the behaviour of the chancellor Rishi Sunak. He has, in the past few days, made unlimited funds available for the nation to cope with the health and economic impact of the pandemic. This is in sharp contrast to the austerity agenda in vogue since 2010. Sunak’s popularity has shot up among the public and he is being touted as a replacement for the currently invalid Prime Minister.

Even more surprising is the behaviour of the czars of the independent Bank of England (BOE). In synchronised operations with Rishi Sunak they slashed interest rates to 0.1% and agreed to borrow large amounts to kick-start the economy. Then a couple of days ago, they even abandoned their orthodox ideology on borrowings via gilts and decided to create money out of thin air to help the government deal with the crisis. The BOE even surprised itself when it stopped commercial banks from paying dividends to their shareholders.

If the financial and economic arm of the government is taking such unorthodox and knee-jerk measures in a concerted manner one does not need much imagination to imagine what might be their prognoses for the UK economy in the immediate future.

Farewell Europe: the long road to Brexit

Toby Helm in The Guardian


Last week, with the end of the UK’s 47-year membership of the club of European nations just days away, I looked back at some newspaper cuttings from my time as a Brussels correspondent. A picture of worried-looking farmers eyeing up their cattle at a market in Banbury stared out alongside banner headlines. “British beef banned in Europe. Cattle prices fall. School meals hit. EU ‘rules’ broken.” Among the many crises in British relations with the EU down the years – from Margaret Thatcher’s bust-up over the European budget in the early 1980s to the UK’s exit from the ERM in 1992 – the beef war between London and Brussels ranks among the biggest.

It was 29 March, 1996, and the European commission had just announced a worldwide ban on the export of British beef. The EU’s executive opted for decisive action after the Tory government admitted there could be a link between “mad cow” disease and the mutant strain of Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease which could kill humans. I had been in Brussels less than three months. It was a huge story, and reading through articles I had written at the time, it felt like yesterday. But what was most striking, as my mind fixed again on events of 24 years ago, was how relevant that one prolonged and tortuous episode seemed today, in the context of Brexit.

When the European commission dropped its bombshell, France and Germany had already imposed their own unilateral bans on British beef. UK ministers had announced that millions of cattle across the UK would have to be slaughtered. Thousands of schools took meat off their lunch menus. Beef prices tumbled. Inevitably, in those testy post-Maastricht days of Tory rows over Europe, Eurosceptic MPs blamed the Europeans. The late Sir Teddy Taylor, a hardline anti-EU campaigner on the Conservative backbenches, urged retaliation in the form of a ban on French wine and French beef, while Bill Cash, still a Tory MP to this day, wanted to take the European commission to court.

Throughout that spring and summer, the crisis widened. This was a time when the ambitions of the EU’s true believers in Brussels, Bonn and Paris were at their height. Helmut Kohl and Jacques Chirac were planning the launch of the euro, for the big leap towards political and monetary union that the Maastricht treaty had charted a course. Europe’s leaders were preparing also to admit several countries of former communist eastern Europe. The enlargement project was one of which the UK thoroughly approved. The British government believed in a Europe that was “wider not deeper”.

But John Major, who had launched his premiership in 1990 with a promise to put Britain “at the heart of Europe”, found himself trapped politically as the BSE disaster worsened. The rightwing tabloids were in full anti-EU cry, demanding he fight the beef ban like he was Margaret Thatcher. In an editorial at the end of March, the Sun warned that the survival of an independent UK, no less, was at stake: “If Brussels has the power to stop Britain from selling a product anywhere in the world, then we are no longer an independent sovereign nation with control over our own affairs,” the paper said. “We are just one of the herd. John Bull has been neutered.”

Back home, Tony Blair and New Labour were racing ahead in the polls. On 21 May, Major went for broke and, to try to calm the “bastards” in his own party, announced that the UK would refuse to co-operate in EU meetings until further notice. British non-co-operation with Europe – and its policies – had become official policy.

FacebookTwitterPinterest 16 April 1975 “We are inextricably part of Europe. Neither Mr Foot nor Mr Benn nor anyone else will ever be able to take us ‘out of Europe’, for Europe is where we are and where have always been.”
Margaret Thatcher addressing the Conservative Group for Europe in thes referendum campaign. Photograph: AP

It was no small move to make. In areas where British ministers had a veto in council meetings, non-co-operation meant they would effectively be blocking EU decisions, thwarting European plans for deeper integration. In mid-May 1996 Major told the House of Commons: “Without progress towards lifting the ban we cannot be expected to cooperate normally on other Community business. We cannot continue business as usual within Europe when we are faced with the clear disregard by some of our partners of reason, of common sense and of Britain’s national interest.”

Non co-operation quickly took relations between London and Brussels to a historic low. For the first time in more than two decades serious questions were being asked about Britain’s membership, publicly, by senior British and European politicians. The beef crisis in itself was an isolated, very specific issue. But the way it had spiralled had highlighted deep faultlines in a relationship between a member state determined not to cede powers, and much of whose media was virulently anti-Brussels, and the proponents of a postwar European project that had as its entire purpose the unification of Europe, and the necessary surrender by participants of ever more sovereignty to the centre.

EU leaders were beginning to wonder if the UK could continue as a full member if it was prepared to put spanners in the works of integration whenever it had a grievance. In a newspaper article in early June 1996 the then European commission president Jacques Santer warned that “l’heure de vérité” was approaching. The late Sir Leon Brittan, then the UK’s commissioner, sensing a potentially disastrous breach, told UK businessmen in the same week to start speaking up for Europe “if we are not to be lured, step by insidious step, on the dangerous path towards leaving the European Union”.

This coming Friday, 31 January, at midnight in Brussels, and 11pm UK time, it will all be over. The worst fears of the pro-Europeans here and on the continent will have been realised. The Union flag will be lowered overnight, discreetly at the European parliament buildings in Brussels and Strasbourg and at the UK representation in Brussels. The UK will be out. The flag that will fly until Friday in the EU capital’s parliament building will be moved to the House of European History museum nearby. British membership will thereafter be a piece of history on display. In London, Boris Johnson’s Conservative government will project the moment as the beginning of a new dawn. No 10 will stage a special lights display at 11pm. Ten million commemorative 50p coins will come into circulation before the end of the year. Johnson will be one of the first to receive one.

For those of us who have spent so many years watching the UK’s relationship with the EU closely, the final act of leaving will be hard to take in. In the minds of everyone in the EU who had always wanted the relationship to succeed, there will always be deep regrets, and questions that can never fully be answered. Could it have worked? If so, was the EU or the UK, or were both, to blame? Which British and EU leaders fell short? Or was it always doomed to failure?

FacebookTwitterPinterest October 1992 John Major calls for the UK to remain at the heart of Europe in his leader’s speech at Tory conference.“There is nothing that can stir the heart like the history of this country. But it’s a different world now. Our families … know we can’t pull up the drawbridge and live in our own private yesterday. Change isn’t just coming, it’s here. I want Britain to mould that change, to lead that change in our own national interest. That’s what I mean by being at the heart of Europe.” Photograph: David Levenson/Getty Images

As we prepare to leave, I asked diplomats, politicians, journalists on both sides of the channel why they thought Brexit had come to pass and they cited a multitude of reasons. The deep differences in postwar attitudes between the UK and its European partners; poor leadership in the EU and UK; a constantly hostile British media, and sheer bad luck and timing.

Sir Nigel Sheinwald, a former UK ambassador to the EU and Washington, believes all these factors played their parts. “Europe always seemed a matter of choice, not necessity for the UK, unlike for France and Germany,” he said. “Successive generations of British political leaders failed to explain the realities and the centrality of our membership, preferring to live with, rather than confront, decades of British media little-Englandism. Then the short-term perfect storm – the impact of the financial crisis, the anti-establishment mood, and the open goal left by Cameron’s casual failure of leadership and Corbyn’s Euroscepticism.

“Brexit was never inevitable, and the irony is that we are leaving an organisation more aligned than at any time since we joined with the British priorities of free trade, competition, active and responsible international policies, and cooperation on security.”

The German MP Norbert Röttgen, who chairs the foreign affairs committee in the Bundestag, suggested the idea of the UK leaving was always so alien and nightmarish for EU leaders that they blinded themselves to the warning signals. By the time of the 2016 referendum the chance to find compromise had been lost.

“For the EU it was unimaginable that a country might choose to leave the union,” Röttgen said. “As a consequence they underestimated the severity of the situation and gave David Cameron nothing to work with during the referendum. To be fair, given all the opt-outs the UK already had, that would not have been easy, but the EU’s lack of trying was a mistake.” The German MEP David McAllister, born to a Scottish father and German mother, and who was bought up in West Berlin, says the UK’s decision to opt out of the euro and Schengen open borders agreement was a turning point which took the UK down a road to disengagement from the core. “The beginning of the end was Maastricht. Not joining the two biggest projects, the joint currency and Schengen.” But enlargement to the east – which, ironically, the UK had championed – also played its part, he believes, creating huge new issues around freedom of movement which the UK could not resolve with its partners before the eventual referendum. “Free movement was vital for those new members and they did not want to give way.”

As in any marriage there were happier times. After Edward Heath had taken the UK into the European Economic Community in 1973, successive prime ministers – Thatcher, Major, Blair, Gordon Brown – all entered office proclaiming themselves strong Europeans. Even Cameron said he wanted his party to stop “banging on” about Europe. In 1975, addressing the Conservative Group for Europe, before the confirmatory referendum later that year, Thatcher proudly proclaimed her pro-EC views, and taunted Labour over its European divisions. “We are inextricably part of Europe,” she said. “Neither Mr Foot nor Mr Benn nor anyone else will ever be able to take us ‘out of Europe’, for Europe is where we are and where have always been,” she declared.

But for every UK prime minister since the 1970s, rows with Europe were always round the corner. In her first years in No 10 Thatcher fought and won a bruising battle to cut the UK’s payments to the European budget, before securing the EU rebate at Fontainbleu in 1984. After that, however, she was a tireless champion of the European single market, before falling out with Jacques Delors and Helmut Kohl over their plans for full monetary union in the late 1980s.

FacebookTwitterPinterest 23 January 2013 David Cameron announces a referendum on the UK’s membership of the European Union.“We will give the British people a referendum with a very simple in or out choice. To stay in the EU on these new terms, or come out altogether. It will be an in-out referendum.” Photograph: Oli Scarff/Getty Images

Charles Powell, her foreign policy adviser at the time, says her European enthusiasm went in phases. “Rather like Picasso she had her blue and her pink phases,” Powell says. “For five-and-a-half years she was very awkward over the budget. After 1984, however, it was more positive as she drove the single market forward. Then she felt betrayed over the single currency.” But he insists she never contemplated leaving the EU.

Many in the EU believe it was Thatcher who set the direction of travel. Guy Verhofstadt, the former Belgian prime minister, says she introduced the idea of “exceptionalism” (rebates and opt-outs) which undermined Europe’s unity and efficiency.

“It started with the rebate of Thatcher,” he said. “By granting something like the rebate you encourage those who don’t want or like the basic story of the European Union. The consequence is that the EU is not effective because of these exceptions. It cannot act there, it can only partially act here. That then fuels the Eurosceptics again, who say ‘you see it doesn’t work!’ By creating these exceptions we planted a seed to make the EU ineffective, and for the exiteers to make their case.”

For Major, who succeeded Thatcher, the crises never ceased. The UK’s exit from the ERM in autumn 1992 was one from which he never really recovered. He fought and secured the single currency opt-out from Maastricht but the “bastards” in his party never let up. In the later days of his administration he tried to convince EU leaders to adopt ideas for a two-speed Europe in which the UK would be in the slower lane but, by that stage, they were waiting for Blair to win the 1997 election and open a new period of positive relations.

I can remember the excitement in EU circles at Blair’s first European summit in late May 1997 after 18 years of Thatcher and Major. At that meeting in Noordwijk in the Netherlands the Italian news agency, Ansa, headed its main report “Tony Blair, Superstar” and Italian journalists called it “Blair day in Europe”. Labour’s election manifesto had left open the possibility of the UK joining the euro when the conditions were right. Blair was genuine and serious about wanting to change the mood.

But he had won the support of Rupert Murdoch’s newspapers, including the Sun, for the 1997 election and Alastair Campbell clearly spotted danger. Campbell arrived on the European scene appearing disdainful, no doubt deliberately, of many of the EU’s complex and arcane debates, describing them as “eurobollocks”, because he feared a tabloid backlash if Blair was too pro-EU.

At the same meeting in Noordwijk he accused me of “going native” for writing about voting systems in the EU, which he had not by then got his head around.

There was a smugness about the Blair administration – remarked on by his own officials at the time – in its early dealings with the EU, which infuriated European leaders. Within months, rows blew up between Blair and Brown on the UK side, and Kohl and Chirac on the other, as the UK demanded the right to be present at meetings of European finance ministers whose countries had agreed to join the euro, despite the UK having refused to commit itself to entry.

At one summit in Luxembourg, Chirac became so irritated that he told Blair he would have to learn to bow his head three times to the tricolore before he could earn his spurs in the EU. The greatest frustration came when EU leaders realised that Brown had, with his adviser Ed Balls, designed a foolproof means of blocking Blair from joining the euro, through his five tests. Verhofstadt and other leaders say Blair, whose relations with Chirac and others deteriorated further with the Iraq war, had a chance to change the course of history but fell short.

And so after Brown’s difficult premiership, in which he promoted his ideas of Britishness far more than any European vision, came Cameron, who had launched his bid for the Tory leadership with a pledge to take the UK out of the main centre-right grouping, the European People’s party, positioning himself initially as a firm Eurosceptic. When he called the 2016 in/out referendum he promised to renegotiate a better deal for the UK in the EU that he hoped would persuade people to vote to remain. The rest is history.

He failed to secure sufficient concessions from the EU to win over fellow Tories, including Boris Johnson and Michael Gove who would campaign to leave. Cameron opened the door to a British exit and the British people walked through it on 23 June, 2016.

Cameron is the name most often cited in the EU as people search for individuals to blame for Brexit. Röttgen says: “At a critical time, when the UK needed true leadership it had poor political personnel in place. David Cameron proved to be a coward, lacking the kind of statesmanship John Major had demonstrated during his term.”

But Röttgen knows, as does everyone, that it was the entire European political class that failed to stop the “unimaginable” happening. His fellow countryman McAllister – with British and German roots – is more mournful ahead of Brexit day. “It will be very sad,” he says. “I hardly know anyone who welcomes this and who will not miss the British, their pragmatism, their humour, their knowledge. January 31 will be a very emotional day. I do not want to be in Brussels on the day the Union Jack is taken down.”

The west’s self-proclaimed custodians of democracy failed to notice it rotting away

British and American elites failed to anticipate the triumph of homegrown demagogues – because they imagined the only threats to democracy lurked abroad writes Pankaj Mishra in The Guardian

 

Illustration: Nate Kitch/The Guardian


Anglo-American lamentations about the state of democracy have been especially loud ever since Boris Johnson joined Donald Trump in the leadership of the free world. For a very long time, Britain and the United States styled themselves as the custodians and promoters of democracy globally, fighting a great moral battle against its foreign enemies. From the cold war through to the “war on terror”, the Caesarism that afflicted other nations was seen as peculiar to Asian and African peoples, or blamed on the despotic traditions of Russians or Chinese, on African tribalism, Islam, or the “Arab mind”.

But this analysis – amplified in a thousand books and opinion columns that located the enemies of democracy among menacingly alien people and their inferior cultures – did not prepare its audience for the sight of blond bullies perched atop the world’s greatest democracies. The barbarians, it turns out, were never at the gate; they have been ruling us for some time.

The belated shock of this realisation has made impotent despair the dominant tone of establishment commentary on the events of the past few years. But this acute helplessness betrays something more significant. While democracy was being hollowed out in the west, mainstream politicians and columnists concealed its growing void by thumping their chests against its supposed foreign enemies – or cheerleading its supposed foreign friends.

Decades of this deceptive and deeply ideological discourse about democracy have left many of us struggling to understand how it was hollowed from within – at home and abroad. Consider the stunning fact that India, billed as the world’s largest democracy, has descended into a form of Hindu supremacism – and, in Kashmir, into racist imperialism of the kind it liberated itself from in 1947.

Narendra Modi’s Hindu nationalist government is enforcing a seemingly endless curfew in the valley of Kashmir, imprisoning thousands of people without charge, cutting phone lines and the internet, and allegedly torturing suspected dissenters. Modi has established – to massive Indian acclaim – the regime of brute power and mendacity that Mahatma Gandhi explicitly warned his compatriots against: “English rule without the Englishman”.

All this while “the mother of parliaments” reels under English rule with a particularly reckless Englishman, and Israel – the “only democracy in the Middle East” – holds another election in which millions of Palestinians under its ethnocratic rule are denied a vote.

The vulnerabilities of western democracy were evident long ago to the Asian and African subjects of the British empire. Gandhi, who saw democracy as literally the rule of the people, the demos, claimed that it was merely “nominal” in the west. It could have no reality so long as “the wide gulf between the rich and the hungry millions persists” and voters “take their cue from their newspapers which are often dishonest”.

Looking ahead to our own era, Gandhi predicted that even “the states that are today nominally democratic” are likely to “become frankly totalitarian”. Gandhi
with Lord and Lady Mountbatten in 1947. Photograph: AP

Looking ahead to our own era, Gandhi predicted that even “the states that are today nominally democratic” are likely to “become frankly totalitarian” since a regime in which “the weakest go to the wall” and a “few capitalist owners” thrive “cannot be sustained except by violence, veiled if not open”.

Inaugurating India’s own experiment with an English-style parliament and electoral system, BR Ambedkar, one of the main authors of the Indian constitution, warned that while the principle of one-person-one-vote conferred political equality, it left untouched grotesque social and economic inequalities. “We must remove this contradiction at the earliest possible moment,” he urged, “or else those who suffer from inequality will blow up the structure of political democracy.”

Today’s elected demagogues, who were chosen by aggrieved voters precisely for their skills in blowing up political democracy, have belatedly alerted many more to this contradiction. But the delay in heeding Ambedkar’s warning has been lethal – and it has left many of our best and brightest stultified by the antics of Trump and Johnson, simultaneously aghast at the sharpened critiques of a resurgent left, and profoundly unable to reckon with the annihilation of democracy by its supposed friends abroad.

Modi has been among the biggest beneficiaries of this intellectual impairment. For decades, India itself greatly benefited from a cold war-era conception of “democracy”, which reduced it to a morally glamorous label for the way rulers are elected, rather than about the kinds of power they hold, or the ways they exercise it.

As a non-communist country that held routine elections, India possessed a matchless international prestige despite consistently failing – worse than many Asian, African, and Latin American countries – in providing its citizens with even the basic components of a dignified existence.

It did not matter to the fetishists of formal and procedural democracy that people in Kashmir and India’s north-eastern border states lived under de facto martial law, where security forces had unlimited licence to massacre and rape, or that a great majority of the Indian population found the promise of equality and dignity underpinned by rule of law and impartial institutions, to be a remote, almost fantastical, ideal.

The halo of virtue around India shone brighter as its governments embraced free markets and communist-run China abruptly emerged as a challenger to the west. Modi profited from an exuberant consensus about India among Anglo-American elites: that democracy had acquired deep roots in Indian soil, fertilising it for the growth of free markets.

As chief minister of the state of Gujarat in 2002, Modi was suspected of a crucial role – ranging from malign inaction to watchful complicity – in an anti-Muslim pogrom of gruesome violence. The US and the European Union denied Modi a visa for several years.

But his record was suddenly forgotten as Modi ascended, with the help of India’s richest businessmen, to power. “There is something thrilling about the rise of Narendra Modi,” Gideon Rachman, the chief foreign affairs columnist for the Financial Times, wrote in April 2014. Rupert Murdoch, of course, anointed Modi as India’s “best leader with best policies since independence”.

But Barack Obama also chose to hail Modi for reflecting “the dynamism and potential of India’s rise”. As Modi arrived in Silicon Valley in 2015 – just as his government was shutting down the internet in Kashmir – Sheryl Sandberg declared she was changing her Facebook profile in order to honour the Indian leader.

In the next few days, Modi will address thousands of affluent Indian-Americans in the company of Trump in Houston, Texas. While his government builds detention camps for hundreds of thousands Muslims it has abruptly rendered stateless, he will receive a commendation from Bill Gates for building toilets.

The fawning by Western politicians, businessmen, and journalists over a man credibly accused of complicity in a mass murder is a much bigger scandal than Jeffrey Epstein’s donations to MIT. But it has gone almost wholly unremarked in mainstream circles partly because democratic and free-marketeering India was the great non-white hope of the ideological children of Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher who still dominate our discourse: India was a gilded oriental mirror in which they could cherish themselves.

This moral vanity explains how even sentinels of the supposedly reasonable centre, such as Obama and the Financial Times, came to condone demagoguery abroad – and, more importantly, how they failed to anticipate its eruption at home.

Even the most fleeting glance at history shows that the contradiction Ambedkar identified in India – which enabled Modi’s rise – has long bedevilled the emancipatory promise of democratic equality. In 1909, Max Weber asked: “How are freedom and democracy in the long run at all possible under the domination of highly developed capitalism?”

The decades of atrocity that followed answered Weber’s question with a grisly spectacle. The fraught and extremely limited western experiment with democracy did better only after social-welfarism, widely adopted after 1945, emerged to defang capitalism, and meet halfway the formidable old challenge of inequality. But the rule of demos still seemed remote.

The Cambridge political theorist John Dunn was complaining as early as 1979 that while democratic theory had become the “public cant of the modern world”, democratic reality had grown “pretty thin on the ground”. Since then, that reality has grown flimsier, corroded by a financialised mode of capitalism that has held Anglo-American politicians and journalists in its thrall since the 1980s.

What went unnoticed until recently was that the chasm between a political system that promises formal equality and a socio-economic system that generates intolerable inequality had grown much wider. It eventually empowered the demagogues who now rule us. In other words, modern democracies have for decades been lurching towards moral and ideological bankruptcy – unprepared by their own publicists to cope with the political and environmental disasters that unregulated capitalism ceaselessly inflicts, even on such winners of history as Britain and the US.

Having laboured to exclude a smelly past of ethnocide, slavery and racism – and the ongoing stink of corporate venality – from their perfumed notion of Anglo-American superiority, the promoters of democracy have no nose for its true enemies. Ripe for superannuation but still entrenched on the heights of politics and journalism, they repetitively ventilate their rage and frustration, or whinge incessantly about “cancel culture” and the “radical left”, it is because that is all they can do. Their own mind-numbing simplicities about democracy, its enemies, friends, the free world, and all that sort of thing, have doomed them to experience the contemporary world as an endless series of shocks and debacles.