Jeremy Corbyn​ has won the first battle in a long ​war​ against the ruling elite

Italian Marxist Antonio Gramsci understood that before taking power, the left must disrupt and defy common sense – just as Labour defeated the proposition that ‘Corbyn can’t win’


Paul Mason in The Guardian



To stop Jeremy Corbyn, the British elite is prepared to abandon Brexit – first in its hard form and, if necessary, in its entirety. That is the logic behind all the manoeuvres, all the cant and all the mea culpas you will see mainstream politicians and journalists perform this week.

And the logic is sound. The Brexit referendum result was supposed to unleash Thatcherism 2.0 – corporate tax rates on a par with Ireland, human rights law weakened, and perpetual verbal equivalent of the Falklands war, only this time with Brussels as the enemy; all opponents of hard Brexit would be labelled the enemy within.

But you can’t have any kind of Thatcherism if Corbyn is prime minister. Hence the frantic search for a fallback line. Those revolted by the stench of May’s rancid nationalism will now find it liberally splashed with the cologne of compromise.

Labour has, quite rightly, tried to keep Karl Marx out of the election. But there is one Marxist whose work provides the key to understanding what just happened. Antonio Gramsci, the Italian communist leader who died in a fascist jail in 1937, would have had no trouble understanding Corbyn’s rise, Labour’s poll surge, or predicting what happens next. For Gramsci understood what kind of war the left is fighting in a mature democracy, and how it can be won.

Antonio Gramsci, the Italian Marxist theoretician and politician. Photograph: Laski Diffusion/Getty Images

Consider the events of the past six weeks a series of unexpected plot twists. Labour starts out polling 25% but then scores 40%. Its manifesto is leaked, raising major questions of competence, but it immediately boosts Corbyn’s popularity. Britain is attacked by terrorists but it is the Tories whose popularity dips. Diane Abbott goes sick – yet her majority rises to 30,000. Sitting Labour candidates campaign on the premise “Corbyn cannot win” yet his presence delivers a 10% boost to their own majorities.

None of it was supposed to happen. It defies political “common sense”. Gramsci was the first to understand that, for the working class and the left, almost the entire battle is to disrupt and defy this common sense. He understood that it is this accepted common sense – not MI5, special branch and the army generals – that really keeps the elite in power.

Once you accept that, you begin to understand the scale of Corbyn’s achievement. Even if he hasn’t won, he has publicly destroyed the logic of neoliberalism – and forced the ideology of xenophobic nationalist economics into retreat.

Brexit was an unwanted gift to British business. Even in its softest form it means 10 years of disruption, inflation, higher interest rates and an incalculable drain on the public purse. It disrupts the supply of cheap labour; it threatens to leave the UK as an economy without a market.

But the British ruling elite and the business class are not the same entity. They have different interests. The British elite are in fact quite detached from the interests of people who do business here. They have become middle men for a global elite of hedge fund managers, property speculators, kleptocrats, oil sheikhs and crooks. It was in the interests of the latter that Theresa May turned the Conservatives from liberal globalists to die-hard Brexiteers.
The hard Brexit path creates a permanent crisis, permanent austerity and a permanent set of enemies – namely Brussels and social democracy. It is the perfect petri dish for the fungus of financial speculation to grow. But the British people saw through it. Corbyn’s advance was not simply a result of energising the Labour vote. It was delivered by an alliance of ex-Ukip voters, Greens, first-time voters and tactical voting by the liberal centrist salariat.

The alliance was created in two stages. First, in a carefully costed manifesto Corbyn illustrated, for the first time in 20 years, how brilliant it would be for most people if austerity ended and government ceased to do the work of the privatisers and the speculators. Then, in the final week, he followed a tactic known in Spanish as la remontada – the comeback. He stopped representing the party and started representing the nation; he acted against stereotype – owning the foreign policy and security issues that were supposed to harm him. Day by day he created an epic sense of possibility.

The ideological results of this are more important than the parliamentary arithmetic. Gramsci taught us that the ruling class does not govern through the state. The state, Gramsci said, is just the final strongpoint. To overthrow the power of the elite, you have to take trench after trench laid down in their defence.

Last summer, during the second leadership contest, it became clear that the forward trench of elite power runs through the middle of the Labour party. The Labour right, trained during the cold war for such trench warfare, fought bitterly to retain control, arguing that the elite would never allow the party to rule with a radical left leadership and programme.

The moment the Labour manifesto was leaked, and support for it took off, was the moment the Labour right’s trench was overrun. They retreated to a second trench – not winning, with another leadership election to follow – but that did not exactly go well either.

As to the third trench line – the tabloid press and its broadcasting echo chamber – this too proved ineffectual. More than 12 million people voted for a party stigmatised as “backing Britain’s enemies”, soft on terror, with “blood on its hands”. 

And Gramsci would have understood the reasons here, too. When most socialists treated the working class as a kind of bee colony – pre-programmed to perform its historical role – Gramsci said: everyone is an intellectual. Even if a man is treated as “trained gorilla” at work, outside work “he is a philosopher, an artist, a man of taste ... has a conscious line of moral conduct”. [Antonio Gramsci, Selections from the Prison Notebooks]

On this premise, Gramsci told the socialists of the 1930s to stop obsessing about the state – and to conduct a long, patient trench warfare against the ideology of the ruling elite.

Eighty years on, the terms of the battle have changed. Today, you do not need to come up from the mine, take a shower, walk home to a slum and read the Daily Worker before you can start thinking. As I argued in Postcapitalism, the 20th-century working class is being replaced as the main actor – in both the economy and oppositional politics – by the networked individual. People with weak ties to each other, and to institutions, but possessing a strong footprint of individuality and rationalism and capacity to act.

What we learned on Friday morning was how easily such networked, educated people can see through bullshit. How easily they organise themselves through tactical voting websites; how quickly they are prepared to unite around a new set of basic values once someone enunciates them with cheerfulness and goodwill, as Corbyn did.

The high Conservative vote, and some signal defeats for Labour in the areas where working class xenophobia is entrenched, indicate this will be a long, cultural war. A war of position, as Gramsci called it, not one of manoeuvre.

But in that war, a battle has been won. The Tories decided to use Brexit to smash up what’s left of the welfare state, and to recast Britain as the global Singapore. They lost. They are retreating behind a human shield of Orange bigots from Belfast.

The left’s next move must eschew hubris; it must reject the illusion that with one lightning breakthrough we can envelop the defences of the British ruling class and install a government of the radical left.

The first achievable goal is to force the Tories back to a position of single-market engagement, under the jurisdiction of the European court of justice, and cross-party institutions to guide the Brexit talks. But the real prize is to force them to abandon austerity.

A Tory party forced to fight the next election on a programme of higher taxes and increased spending, high wages and high public investment would signal how rapidly Corbyn has changed the game. If it doesn’t happen; if the Conservatives tie themselves to the global kleptocrats instead of the interests of British business and the British people, then Corbyn is in Downing Street.

Either way, the accepted common sense of 30 years is over.

Economic forecasting is not a science

Prashanth Perumal in The Hindu

India lost its tag as the ‘world’s fastest-growing economy’ last month as its fourth quarter GDP growth fell to 6.1%, the slowest in two years. Very few economists expected the slowdown. In fact, most waited for the economy to rebound as it quickly healed from the impact of the demonetisation of high-value rupee notes in November. Critics of demonetisation felt vindicated, particularly after GDP figures for the third quarter suggested that the shocking, overnight move to demonetise had very little negative impact.

Yet, for all the sermon delivered by the country’s punditry, the fact remains that macroeconomic forecasting is a lousy business — regardless of who makes the predictions. For one, data cannot prove or disprove any hypothesis as they do not establish causation. The mere fact that growth slowed in the first full quarter after demonetisation does not prove decisively that the slowdown was caused by demonetisation. As some have speculated, the current slump in the growth rate may be a continuation of the trend of slowing growth witnessed even before demonetisation.

Nor does the unexpectedly strong GDP growth in the third quarter prove that demonetisation has had no negative impact on the economy. The economy is a complex organism with several variables working in tandem, which makes prediction an almost impossible task. This is in contrast to the physical sciences where controlled experiments allow scientists to tease out the influence of any variable.

Two, there are no constant relationships between variables when it comes to the economy that allow for making exact predictions. So, even if economists were to dig into historical data and find the exact impact that demonetisation has had on GDP growth, there is no guarantee that it would hold in the future. For instance, people’s expectations may change which makes them adapt to a cashless economy better, thus blunting the impact of demonetisation on GDP growth.

Three, macroeconomic forecasting is focussed to a very large extent on measuring things that are fundamentally immeasurable. When it comes to measuring GDP, for instance, the price that is assigned to a good as its value is arbitrarily decided by statisticians. This happens despite the fact that the value of any good lies in the eyes of the consumer. Finally, both innocent and political biases influence the process of official data collection to calculate GDP, a fact that raises questions about its reliability.
None of this is to say that economists can make no useful predictions. But such predictions are more likely to be qualitative rather than quantitative. Any wise economist could foresee that demonetisation would have a substantial impact on the economy; simply from the premise that money greases the wheels of commerce, so outlawing it would affect demand and create chaos across production lines. But trying to quantify its impact in terms of the exact percentage points of growth that would be shaved off GDP is a futile exercise.

Would being high achievers make my kids happier? Or should I let them chill out?

Romesh Ranganathan in The Guardian


It was the first day after half term, and I was walking the kids into school when I found myself stunned by a statement made by one of the other parents: “I know I’m a good parent.” How can you possibly know that? Hope? Yes. Strive? Sure. But know? Like, really know? I would argue that if you “know” you are a really good parent, you almost definitely aren’t. How can you be certain that nothing you have said or done has messed up your kids in some way? When I was a kid, my mum told me I had “cute little boobies” and I didn’t go swimming for six months. I still wear a T-shirt in the pool.

The ultimate aim of any parent is for their children to grow up to be happy. But how the hell do you achieve that? Two of our children are at primary school. We really worry about one of them. The other one makes us worry for the school. Last week, he told us his new favourite word was “vagina” and he was going to say it as much as possible. I’m imagining appropriate context was irrelevant to him. Then I became terrified there would be appropriate context. Or inappropriate context. Basically, I didn’t want him using the word vagina. But you can’t say that to him. If you react with shock or panic, you are basically giving that word magic powers. It suddenly becomes a word that will always get attention and then you are in Sainsbury’s and your kid is saying: “Can I have a fidget spinner? Can I have a fidget spinner? VAGINA.”

Parenting presents dilemmas like this all the time. Recently, my wife told me that some of the parents had been giving their children practice test papers and had arranged for them to have tuition. While this seems excessive for primary school, I understand. Education seems to be placing increased emphasis on assessment and tracking, which means parents are terrified that if their kid doesn’t exceed their expected learning level at six years old, they are immediately put in the class that ends up working at McDonald’s.

But what’s wrong with that? The general assumption by parents seems to be that higher attainment leads to better job prospects, which lead to better pay, which leads to happiness. But studies over the past couple of years show that not to be the case. While it is clear that there is a strong correlation between poor education and mental health issues, what has also been found is that the odds of personal happiness are equivalent regardless of levels of educational attainment. I have taken this to mean that I can stop reading with my kids. And, by that, I mean I can stop feeling bad about not doing it. If happiness is not impacted by attainment, then why the hell are we all making our kids unhappy by forcing them to work harder? If they want to study hard, great; but if they don’t, why not just let them be happy slackers?

I have even begun to wonder if a “normal” upbringing might be detrimental to our children. All of the most interesting people had a horrible time as kids. All the best rappers struggled. Kanye West is a notable exception, but in lieu of a terrible upbringing he is trying his hardest to have a truly dreadful adulthood. I am contemplating sending my children out on to the streets for six months to give them a sense of appreciation and a decent backstory.

I’m not even sure that child labour is a bad thing. It has a bad press and we are instinctively opposed, but I think it suffers from the issues of both being poorly regulated and using the wrong children. We should be using children from this country. Our children are spoilt. The lower labour costs will bring us right back into competitive manufacturing and our children might be a little more grateful. Our second son often shouts: “I don’t want to go to school.” How about you go and make iPhones for a couple of years? We’ll see how much you want to go to school then, mate.

This “happiness dilemma” was brought into sharp focus recently when one of our sons asked if he could play on the Xbox on a weekday. (We have a weekends-only policy, mainly because I am trying to make some progress on Grand Theft Auto.) I said no, and he got upset. He told me he didn’t love me any more. Two things occurred to me at this point: 1) I had directly reduced his immediate happiness and 2) Him telling me he didn’t love me had absolutely no effect. In fact, he taught me a valuable lesson on how transient the idea of love can be. It did make me wonder why we were doing it though. What are we training him for? When he grows up, he will be able to play whenever he wants. The obvious argument is we don’t want him playing it too much. But then, why not just let him play and then if it becomes excessive, just say: “You’re playing it a bit too much”? He will argue, we will have to demand he stops, he will then shout and we will have to discipline him. It appears that the reason we have introduced a “weekends-only” policy is so we can have an easier life.

I don’t think my wife and I are doing a bad job of parenting necessarily, but we have no idea how what we are doing is impacting their future happiness, and I am no closer to figuring out how hard to push them at school. I have noticed, however, that our youngest son has cute little boobies, but I haven’t mentioned it. That’s progress.

The Islamic State as an excuse

Tabish Khair in The Hindu


Three men drove a van into a crowd in London on June 3, 2017, and then ran about stabbing people until efficiently shot down by British policemen. Immediately, the Islamic State (IS) claimed the attack — though, as yet, there is no proof that the IS was directly involved.

But of course the IS will claim any monstrous act in ‘the name of Allah’ committed by morons anywhere in the world. It suits the IS. And in some ways, such a claim suits almost everyone else too.



It suits many people

It suits people like Donald Trump. It enabled him to send out inane tweets, seeking to use this tragedy to further his xenophobic, undemocratic and unlikely-to-be-effective policy options in the U.S.

The IS claim also enabled British politicians, who (it has to be said to their credit) basically reacted with calm and restraint, to suggest international conspiracies (highly unlikely) and remedies (such as curbing Internet), which are unlikely to work and will probably have more drawbacks than advantages. It is nice to have a Dr. No version of the IS to blame, when you know that your own neo-liberal and post-Brexit actions – such as laying off policemen in London – probably contributed to the casualties.
Finally, it enabled peaceful religious Muslims — many of whom will be angry at me for saying this — from facing up to their responsibility in the matter. Do not misunderstand me: these religious Muslims hate what the IS stands for: this fact was brought home by the sad but necessary decision by 130 Muslim imams and leaders in U.K. not to perform the compulsory funeral prayers over the bodies of the three London attackers.

Yes, most religious Muslims have no sympathy for the IS. Such religious Muslims often castigate people like me for describing IS-murderers as Islamists. They are not Islamists because they have nothing to do with Islam, I am consistently told. I agree — but I also point out that the IS and such terrorists think that they have everything to do with Islam. Sheer repudiation does not suffice. It especially does not suffice if you are yourself Muslim.

The IS enables peaceful, religious Muslims — the vast majority — to shirk their inadvertent complicity in such violence. It is time to face up to this, instead of expressing surprise and horror when some nephew or son mimics the IS and kills innocent people in the name of Islam.

I have written a lot about the ‘us-them’ binarism that had undergirded colonial Western atrocities against the rest, and still dominates the thinking of people like Mr. Trump. But it has to be added: peaceful, religious Muslims harbour a similar ‘us-them’ binarism.

Many decent religious Muslims believe that their faith assigns them a position of moral superiority over others. This is a feeling other very religious people — Hindus, Christians, etc. — might tend to have too. However, many religious Muslims also believe that their faith will prevail on Earth in the future and at least assure them (and only them) of paradise after death.

I have met Christians and Jews with similar beliefs of being a kind of ‘chosen people’, but their ratio is far lower. For every Christian I have met who believed that I would go to hell because I do not believe in Jesus as the son of God, I have met a hundred who would laugh at the notion.

Unfortunately, I have met too many religious Muslims who believe that they are specially chosen, and anyone who does not share their faith is condemned to an eternity of hellfire.

Most religious Muslims do not act on this conviction; they do not even utter it in front of non-Muslims. They are decent people. But it lurks in the depths of their minds.

It can also be flaunted indirectly: for instance, recently a major Indian Muslim leader dismissed another Muslim for not being a ‘true Muslim’ because he read the Bhagavad Gita! Or, during the holy month of Ramzan, many religious Muslims give charity only to the Muslim needy. Us and them. Them and us.



Facing up to a flaw

This is the germ that runs through much of contemporary religious Muslim thinking, and drives the more confused of our Muslim children into mimicking the monstrosities of the IS. This germ makes Muslim youth vulnerable to extremist ideologies. To think that you are so special can very easily turn into a dismissal of the equivalent humanity of others, as casteist Hindus do with Dalits and as colonial Europeans did with the colonised at times.

Until more religious Muslims face up to this flaw in their thinking, their children will be vulnerable to such detestable ideologues as those of the IS — and Islam, as a faith, will be the target of hatred from at least some of those who are excluded from the category of being ‘chosen.’

The IS is not some Hollywood supervillain, an Islamic Dr. No, with highly trained agents present everywhere. It does not have that sort of clout outside the regions it controls and some neighbouring spaces.

But it is actually more dangerous because it can capitalise on the flaws in our thinking, those cracks in the floor of ordinary family homes, Muslim and non-Muslim. I have written about the cracks in the floors of ordinary European or American homes, with their ‘civilisational’ hubris. But it is time for religious Muslims to face up to the cracks in their own homes too.

Why we inject cricket with a greater moral purpose

Suresh Menon in The Hindu

We pour into sport our highest emotions and our greatest passions because that is a way of rescuing it from meaninglessness


It is facile to say that Indians do not understand the concept of “conflict of interest”. We have had in a parliamentary panel on anti-tobacco legislation an MP known as the “beedi king of Maharashtra”. Vijay Mallya, of Kingfisher Airlines, served on the parliamentary panel on civil aviation.

It is not that we don’t understand the concept — we merely turn a blind eye to it, arguing that parliamentary panels, for instance, need “experts” in the field. Our faith in the integrity of our businessmen and politicians is touching.

Why therefore should we make such a big deal about conflicts of interest in cricket?


Undermining the spirit

The simple answer, of course, is that just because it is condoned elsewhere, it does not follow that cricket should too. It is ethically wrong, even if sometimes it is legal, as in the case of Rahul Dravid and others who are given a ten-month contract with the BCCI so they can then sign a two-month contract with an IPL team. Contracts with in-built loopholes are a testimony to the nudge-nudge, wink-wink style of the BCCI’s functioning. They go against the spirit of the game.

Many greats have played the dual game, but that doesn’t make it right. In 1956, as selector, Don Bradman picked the Australian team to England. He then wrote on the series for the Daily Mail. “He set an unusual precedent,” wrote his biographer Irving Rosenwater subtly.

In a clear-headed letter following his resignation from the Committee of Administrators, Ramachandra Guha makes a forceful point: “The BCCI management is too much in awe of the superstars to question their violation of norms and procedures. For their part, BCCI office-bearers like to enjoy discretionary powers, so that the coaches or commentators they favour are indebted to them and do not ever question their own mistakes or malpractices.”


Guha’s indictment of the system

Guha’s letter indicts the system, and if the BCCI (or the CoA, which sometimes looks and acts like the BCCI in different clothes) has the interests of the game at heart, then it will have to be acted upon. It has brought into focus another aspect of cricket corruption — the ethical one. It has taken a fan of cricket — and not just a fan of cricketers, which is what most Indians are — to point out the anomalies.

Guha has made the sensible suggestion that conflicts of interest which exist from the highest level to the lowest are best dealt with at the top, saying, “This would have a ripple effect downwards.”

So why cricket? Why should the sport — which is believed to mirror society — answer to a higher morality than other fields of human endeavour?

To understand this, one must acknowledge the essential nature of sport. It is artificial, it is in the large sense meaningless, it is “something that does not matter but is performed as if it did,” to quote Simon Barnes.

The very artificiality of sport gives us the right to inject it with a greater moral purpose than, say, business or politics. Even politicians who are otherwise known to be shady are expected to be honest on the sports field. Bill Clinton might have cheated on his wife, but had he cheated on a golf course, there would have been no redemption.

Being artificial means sport is not of the real world; the sharp practices of the real world should not be allowed to seep into sport. Thus sport cannot be a mere reflection of society, but has to belong to a higher realm, a fantasy world where everything is perfect. Or should aim to be.


Aspire for perfection

The argument here is not that cricket is perfect, but that it ought to aspire towards perfection, both on and off the field. The process is important even if the product sometimes disappoints.

We pour into sport our highest emotions and our greatest passions because that is a way of rescuing it from meaninglessness. It is relevant because our emotions make it relevant — and it gives us an opportunity to coat the essential artificiality of the activity with the reality of our most positive feelings.

Cricket is full of contradictions. Administrators who should be preserving its status as a touchstone of goodness cheat and lie, and live for the bottom line. Players who understand its place in society and owe everything to it, compromise for the extra dollar. It is a sickening win-win situation: the BCCI keeps the players happy in return for their silence.

One or the other group has to ensure they are guardians of the sport. In India, it was finally the Supreme Court which took upon itself that role because neither officials nor players had the inclination.

Guha’s letter has raised some fundamental questions. Not just about the BCCI or the CoA. But about our relationship with cricket. And how much we are willing to ignore uncomfortable truths so long as a Kohli scores a hundred or an Ashwin claims five wickets. Passion should be made of sterner stuff.

Even moderate drinking can damage the brain, claim researchers

Nicola Davis in The Guardian


Drinking even moderate amounts of alcohol can damage the brain and impair cognitive function over time, researchers have claimed.

While heavy drinking has previously been linked to memory problems and dementia, previous studies have suggested low levels of drinking could help protect the brain. But the new study pushes back against the notion of such benefits.

“We knew that drinking heavily for long periods of time was bad for brain health, but we didn’t know at these levels,” said Anya Topiwala, a clinical lecturer in old age psychiatry at the University of Oxford and co-author of the research.

Alcohol is a direct cause of seven ​​forms of cancer, finds study


Writing in the British Medical Journal, researchers from the University of Oxford and University College London, describe how they followed the alcohol intake and cognitive performance of 550 men and women over 30 years from 1985. At the end of the study the team took MRI scans of the participants’ brains.

None of the participants were deemed to have an alcohol dependence, but levels of drinking varied. After excluding 23 participants due to gaps in data or other issues, the team looked at participants’ alcohol intake as well as their performance on various cognitive tasks, as measured at six points over the 30 year period.

The team also looked at the structure of the participants’ brains, as shown by the MRI scan, including the structure of the white matter and the state of the hippocampus – a seahorse-shaped area of the brain associated with memory.

After taking into account a host of other factors including age, sex, social activity and education, the team found that those who reported higher levels of drinking were more often found to have a shrunken hippocampus, with the effect greater for the right side of the brain.

While 35% of those who didn’t drink were found to have shrinkage on the right side of the hippocampus, the figure was 65% for those who drank on average between 14 and 21 units a week, and 77% for those who drank 30 or more units a week.

The structure of white matter was also linked to how much individuals drank. “The big fibre tracts in the brain are cabled like electrical wire and the insulation, if you like, on those wires was of a poorer quality in people who were drinking more,” said Topiwala.


In addition, those who drank more were found to fare worse on a test of lexical fluency. “[That] is where you ask somebody to name as many words as they can within a minute beginning with a certain letter,” said Topiwala. People who drank between seven and 14 units a week were found to have 14% greater reduction in their performance on the task over 30 years, compared to those who drank just one or fewer units a week.

By contrast, no effects were found for other tasks such as word recall or those in which participants were asked to come up with words in a particular category, such as ‘animals.’

Expert reaction to the the study was mixed. While Elizabeth Coulthard, consultant senior lecturer in dementia neurology at the University of Bristol, described the research as robust, she cautioned that as the study was observational, it does not prove that alcohol was causing the damage to the brain.

Even small amounts of alcohol increase a woman's risk of cancer



In addition, the majority of the study’s participants were men, while reports of alcohol consumption are often inaccurate with people underestimating how much they drink – an effect that could have exaggerated the apparent impact of moderate amounts of alcohol.

Dr Doug Brown, director of research and development at Alzheimer’s Society said that the new research did not imply that individuals should necessarily turn teetotal, instead stressing that it was important to stick to recommended guidelines.

In 2016, the Department of Health introduced new alcohol guidelines in the UK, recommending that both men and women drink no more than 14 units of alcohol each week – the equivalent of about six pints of beer or seven 175ml glasses of wine.

“Although this research gives useful insight into the long-term effects that drinking alcohol may have on the brain, it does not show that moderate alcohol intake causes cognitive decline. However, the findings do contradict a common belief that a glass of red wine or champagne a day can protect against damage to the brain,” said Brown.

Public luxury for all or private luxury for some: this is the choice we face

George Monbiot in The Guardian


Imagine designing one of our great cities from scratch. You would quickly discover that there is enough physical space for magnificent parks, playing fields, public swimming pools, urban nature reserves and allotments sufficient to meet the needs of everyone. Alternatively, you could designate the same space to a small proportion of its people – the richest citizens – who can afford large gardens, perhaps with their own swimming pools. The only way of securing space for both is to allow the suburbs to sprawl until the city becomes dysfunctional: impossible to supply with efficient services, lacking a sense of civic cohesion, and permanently snarled in traffic: Los Angeles for all.

Imagine designing a long-distance transport system for a nation that did not possess one. You’d find that there is plenty of room for everyone to travel swiftly and efficiently, in trains and luxury buses (an intercity bus can carry as many people as a mile of car traffic). But to supply the same mobility with private cars requires a prodigious use of land, concrete, metal and fuel. It can be done, but only at the cost of climate change, air pollution, the destruction of wonderful places and an assault on tranquillity, neighbourhood and community life.

This conflict is repeated in financial terms. In order that the very rich can pay less tax, public playgrounds are allowed to fall apart. The beneficiaries might use the extra money to build private play barns for their children. Public toilets are closed so that some people can install gold-plated taps in their bathrooms. Public swimming pools are put on restricted hours so that the very rich can turn up the thermostats in their private pools. Public galleries need to charge for entry so that billionaires can expand their own art collections. Wealth that could be shared and enjoyed by all is sequestered by a few.


Public luxury for all, or private luxury for some: this is the choice we face at all times – especially at this election

It is impossible to deliver a magnificent life for everyone by securing private space through private spending. Attempts to do so are highly inefficient, producing ridiculous levels of redundancy and replication. Look at roads, in which individual people, each encased in a tonne of metal, each taking up (at 70mph) 90 metres of lane, travel in parallel to the same destination. The expansion of public wealth creates more space for everyone; the expansion of private wealth reduces it, eventually damaging most people’s quality of life.

  ‘Look at roads, in which individual people, each encased in a tonne of metal, each taking up (at 70mph) 90 metres of lane, travel in parallel to the same destination.’ Photograph: Matt Cardy/Getty Images


This is a global issue, as well as a national one. According to the Global Footprint Network, every person in the UK uses the equivalent of 5 hectares of land and sea through the food we eat, the products we use and the carbon we release, which has to be absorbed somewhere if it is not to accelerate global warming. Yet the UK’s “biocapacity” (our ability to absorb these impacts) is a little over 1 hectare per person. Our extravagance is a cost that others must bear.

Public luxury available to all, or private luxury available to some: this is the choice we face at all times, but especially at this election. It is the conflict between these two visions that defines – or should define – our political options. There is a significant difference between Labour and the Conservatives in this respect, but I wish it were stronger.

Labour, through its proposed cultural capital fund, will reinvest in public galleries and museums. It will defend and expand our libraries, youth centres, football grounds, railways and local bus services. Unlike the Conservative manifesto, which is almost silent on the issue, Labour’s platform offers a reasonable list of protections to the living world.

But it also promises to “continue to upgrade our highways” (shortly after vowing to “encourage and enable people to get out of their cars”) and to provide new airport capacity. The conflicts are not acknowledged. Progress in the 21st century should be measured less by the new infrastructure you build than by the damaging infrastructure you retire.

Labour also misses a wonderful opportunity in its plans to expand affordable housing, to promote accommodation that both revives community and makes better use of space. In co-housing developments, people own or rent their own homes but share the rest of the land. Rather than chopping the available space into coffin-sized gardens in which a child cannot perform a cartwheel without hitting the fence, the children have room to run around together while the adults have space to garden and talk. Communal laundries release living space in people’s homes. Carpools reduce the need for parking. Isolation gives way to conviviality.

More importantly, and less surprisingly, the Labour manifesto fails to acknowledge the left’s great conundrum: the environmental damage caused by efforts to create jobs through economic growth. Like the Conservatives, like almost every party everywhere (the Greens are a notable exception), Labour’s economic vision is based on the presumption that there are no limits. Both conservative and social democratic parties see the world as a magic pudding that can never be exhausted. They build their economic programmes on a fairytale.

Kelvingrove Art gallery in Glasgow. ‘Labour, through its proposed cultural capital fund, will reinvest in public galleries and museums.’ Photograph: VisitBritain/Britain on View/Getty Images

And they have another unexamined premise in common: that money legitimately buys you the power to take what you want from the world. There is an almost universal assumption in politics that you have the right to help yourself to as much of the global commons (atmosphere, soil, water, fish) as you can afford, though this reduces what is left for other people to share. You have the right to occupy as much physical space as your money can buy, regardless of the restrictions this imposes on others.

Where does this licence arise? Even if private wealth were obtained through the exercise of virtue (an unlikely proposition at the best of times) or through enterprise and hard work (ever less probable, in this new age of inheritance and rent), it is hard to discern the just principle that translates this money into permission to acquire the space and resources on which other people depend for a decent quality of life. When and by whom was this permission granted? How does it correspond to our notion of equal rights, or our concept of democracy, which is based on an equal power to decide?

You will not find these questions asked in this election or in any other. They are fudged by recourse to the magical belief that there is enough space and resources for everyone to do as they wish, that infinite growth ensures that no one – when the parties’ economic promises are fulfilled – will need to intrude on the interests of others. Yet, on this finite planet, they are the questions that will determine not only the quality of our lives but our security and, eventually, our survival. The primary task of all far-sighted politicians should be to decide first how much we can use, then how it can best be shared.

When the questions that count above all others are beyond the scope of politics, when almost everyone in public life is either too blinkered or too frightened to answer them, when – even in this great, defining election, which at last offers people meaningful political choice – neither large party can even name them, you begin to recognise how much trouble we are in.