Review
Culture
Economics
Politics
10 min read

The book Keir Starmer says you must read

Will Hutton’s This Time No Mistakes surveys the thinking that could solve Britain’s ills.

John Milbank is a theologian, philosopher and poet. A co-founder of the Radical Orthodoxy movement, he is an Emeritus Professor of the University of Nottingham.

Kier Starmer sits on a sofa, leaning forward and holding papers he is reading. Rachel Reaves sits and looks on.
Starmer and Reeves.
Labour Party

In the aftermath of a historic election, one could do worse than read Will Hutton’s second big ‘state of the nation book’, recently published. This Time No Mistakes is worth reading just for the succinctness and clarity of its politic-economic history of the United Kingdom since the industrial revolution, which it provides in its central chapters. Indeed, Keir Starmer says it is a ‘brilliant book... read it if you haven't already It may well take a sophisticated journalist to be able to do this so well: too often, even the best of academics cannot see the public wood for their private-obsessional trees.  

But it is doubly and mainly worth reading for Hutton’s prognosis of our ills and his recommendations for solving them. The new Labour government could do far worse than try to carry through Hutton’s proposals, which almost anyone of common sense and goodwill (including all Tories) ought readily to endorse. Indeed, if the next government managed to initiate even a half of what he suggests, this country could be placed back upon the right tracks.  

As to the history, which is crucial to the ultimate diagnosis: Hutton contends quite simply that Britain has been self-deceived by the peculiar nature of its industrial revolution, which was the first in history. It was largely a matter of private enterprise, partly enabled and later cushioned by empire, whose possession encouraged us to support an unqualified doctrine of free trade.  

However, all other nations, including the United States, both when they sought to catch up with the steam and rail revolution, and when they later co-pioneered the ones based on gas and electricity, and ultimately on nuclear and digital, from the outset depended much more upon state intervention to promote needed expertise, education and investment. The United Kingdom, by contrast, remained captivated by the mythical glory of its initial take-off.  

As a result, not just Conservative governments, but also Labour ones, right up to the New Labour one, and including the catastrophically misguided work of Margaret Thatcher (Hutton is admirably unqualified here) remained far too captivated by the norms of economic laissez-faire, ‘balancing the books’, a primacy of finance over production and obsessive Treasury concern with money, rather than productive wealth.  

The exceptions to this were the pre-World War one Liberal government and the post World War Two Labour one. Yet all the strong ideas implemented by the latter came from ‘New Liberal’ thinkers and not Labour ones: notably from Keynes and Beveridge. Labour on its own, by comparison, has tragically and disastrously oscillated between a desire to replace capitalism with some sort of command economy on the one hand, and simply leaving capitalism as it is, with a bit of welfare tinkering, on the other. More recently this has been seen in the contrast between Corbyn and Blair. 

It is at this juncture that Hutton proceeds to complement his political-economic diagnosis with a more purely political one. The split on the ‘progressive left’ is a catastrophe that has kept the Tories unfairly in power for much of a century. This split is both caused by and has prevented any reform of the first past the post voting system, which urgently needs to go.  

For this reason then, political economy and constitutional reform go together.  

As to the latter, we need proportional representation which would allow more reasoned debate instead of the inter-party squabble, alongside legally guaranteed local government and a different kind of informed, rather than overweening executive.  

As to the former, we need flexible planning, public-private partnership in investment, a national wealth fund, sectional trade union bargaining, the breaking up of cartels and monopolies and required social purpose and stakeholding, for every business and financial enterprise. 

One is tempted just to say hurray! But there are some historical and theoretical questions to be posed that may have hidden practical consequences.  

Better than trying to ‘balance’ the private and the collective, as if the self and society were in rivalry, is to take the more Continental (and early Blairite!) course of stressing that we are always ‘persons in relation’.

Hutton now backs Tawney besides Keynes. But do they say the same thing? For the latter, capitalism is a wild, amoral and dynamic beast that can nonetheless be politically tamed. In certain phases of the capitalist cycle only (as Hutton rightly sees) this will be about boosting demand, but in others it can mean lessening it and temporarily hurting workers.  

But Tawney, and Hutton clearly agrees with him, wanted a market economy permitting only useful and not merely acquisitive wealth. Given this ethical purpose it was for him possible for the market, aa a socialist market, to reach equilibrium, beyond extrinsic and always precarious state ‘management’.  

Just how precarious was seen in the 1970s. For Hutton, the lapse of Keynesianism in this decade was simply a matter of the triumph of the wrong ideas. To a large degree this is surely right, and yet it is not the whole story. Were it the latter, then neoliberalism might not have spread beyond Anglo-Saxon lands to Europe and South America.  

The other aspect is surely the reality that capitalism of its nature, as driven by the amoral search for profit, resists any prospect of a stable, social market. Achieving that and extending the corporatist order of negotiation between state, business and unions would have been the alternative way, instead of Hayekianism, to deal with ‘stagflation’. Rather than a competition between capital, labour and consumer for money that wasn’t there at the time, a fair division of spoils could have been consistently instituted by legally and culturally re-framing the firm and the market, something that would have immediately favoured a renewed degree of growth.  

Really, almost everything that Hutton writes indicates agreement with this sort of thing, including the recognition that of itself, capitalism is not actually dynamic (that comes from technology and culture) but tends to build up sterile finance in the interests of the few, rather than productive growth in the interests of the many. But in that case ‘ethical socialism’ is not just a set of ideals, as he tends to imply, but a mode of achievable practice.  

Similarly, a general mutualist national insurance approach to welfare, which he rightly favours, was not just a New Liberal advocacy as he claims, but deeply rooted in co-operative socialism and in Christian (especially Anglican) social thinking whose influence -- except silently in the case of Tawney -- goes unmentioned. Yet the very phrase ‘welfare state’ is Archbishop William Temple’s and Tawney’s social analysis, intended for the general public, concluded with an unabashed High Church ecclesiology! 

It is relevant here that Hutton speaks of the need to combine the ‘I’ with the ‘We’ and yet he clearly does not endorse just any old exercise of ‘individual agency’, even if he sometimes appears to do so, when defining the operation of the price mechanism as necessarily ‘wild’, after Adam Smith’s exclusion of commercial transactions from the immediate operation of social sympathy. Better than trying to ‘balance’ the private and the collective, as if the self and society were in rivalry, is to take the more Continental (and early Blairite!) course of stressing that we are always ‘persons in relation’ – at once within and outside each other, in a constant creative weave.  

Nothing could be further from Keynes’ despising of the proletariat and favouring of learned leisure, that John Ruskin’s revolutionary mystique of the artisanal. 

There are two deeper questions about Hutton’s approach. First, his excessive ‘idealism’, as with his analysis of the Seventies switch, may still underrate the difficulty of overcoming the power of entrenched interests – the need indeed not so much for class, as for popular warfare against plutocracy.  

Secondly, he tends to underplay a theoretical tension between secular and materialist thinkers, including New Liberals, on the one hand, and religious and Idealist thinkers like the first ‘New Liberal’, T.H Green on the other.  

The latter was much more like Alasdair Macintyre or Michael Sandel than like John Rawls, as Hutton claims: for by human ‘self-realisation’ he meant the ‘positive liberty’ of pursuing the objectively true ends of human flourishing: religious contemplation, artistic creation of genuine beauty, active citizen participation.  

By contrast, the secular New Liberals, including Keynes, tended to reduce the ethical good to the negative liberty of rights, private friendship and utility – often leading them to favour eugenics and to indulge in racism. Nothing could be further from Keynes’ despising of the proletariat and favouring of learned leisure, that John Ruskin’s revolutionary mystique of the artisanal.  

Hutton tends to express surprise that a Tory like Ruskin, or a reactionary like Carlyle, should have favoured the cause of the worker – and indeed in Ruskin’s case also espoused ‘communism’, as Hutton elides from the picture. But this is to fail to see how Tory Radicalism and even paternalism is actually a third strand in the kind of transformative thinking that we continue to need, was always a crucial influence on Labour and was a crucial element of the postwar settlement.  

If these thinkers indeed favoured ‘hierarchy’, then that was in part because they wanted more interpersonal and mediated chains of command, rather than brutally centralised and mechanical ones. Surely Hutton wants that also, as his excellent reservations about the use of Artificial Intelligence would indicate? 

There is a recognition that economic individualism usually ‘on the right’ is actually matched and encouraged by a cultural individualism usually ‘on the left’. 

This is perhaps the limit of talking in terms of ‘progressive’ versus ‘conservative’. Hutton harks back to the norms of the Enlightenment. Yet, as Richard Whatmore has shown, all the great British enlightenment thinkers came to think that pure enlightenment was failing.  

They saw its anti-religious fanaticism stance as challenged by the rise of new secular, nationalist and direct democratic fanaticisms, as supremely with the French Revolution. By ‘populism’, as we might now say! 

But they also already recognised that the breakdown of a rational peace had been encouraged by excessive consumer greed and by the over-implication of commerce in state borrowing (whose pre-enabling of industry in Britain, Hutton does not mention) and so also in war and empire.  

It was exactly in this context that the enlightenment thinker Edmund Burke began to consider the virtues of the longer-term embedding of enlightenment in Christianity and the importance of the medieval ‘gothic’ legacy of a corporate order binding social body to social body, rather than individual to individual via contract, mediated by the market and backed up by the state.  

In Burke’s wake, for example with the radical William Cobbett, much of the Nineteenth Century critique of economism, to which Hutton is the heir, was of a ‘Romantic’ and often ‘neo-medieval’ rather than purely enlightenment cast. (Hutton at times wrongly reads medieval ‘feudalism’ as ‘absolutist’ – a specifically early modern phenomenon.) This matters, because this tradition contains a stronger recognition that the centralising state (which the Enlightenment favoured as a substitute for the Church) can be just as alienating and anti-social as the uprooting market – even if, as Karl Polanyi later saw, one needs the power of the state today in order to restore the primacy of the social and of inter-human fellowship.  

Within the same current, there is a recognition that economic individualism usually ‘on the right’ is actually matched and encouraged by a cultural individualism usually ‘on the left’. And here Hutton is perhaps inconsistent – he definitely sees this, mentioning the dubious overriding of the universal by identitarian concerns,  and yet also recognises it somewhat uneasily, as it challenges certain ‘progressivist’ assumptions. 

 As a result, he rather disallows the validity of some populist concerns – ironically rather like the incomprehension of the older enlightenment in the face of the new revolutionary era. For example, concerns with the normative primacy of the heterosexual family and the enabling of family and children, with regional and national identity, with the academic ‘woke’ trashing of the entire Western legacy, with the exploitation and cultural disruption of excessive immigration, with ecological policies that simply override current human needs while doing little to assist the future of nature.  

The danger of these partial blind spots could be a continued failure of the roughly ‘communitarian’ Left, or the sensible Right, to win over the mass of the people to their cause. For they must be won over if not just the United Kingdom, but humanity as a whole, is to have a decent future.  

Towards building that future, no one has contributed more, or more valiantly, than Will Hutton.  

  

 

Article
Culture
Film & TV
Politics
6 min read

Fear of the news means it needs to change

Here's how to rethink reporting.

Steve is news director of Article 18, a human rights organisation documenting Christian persecution in Iran.

A news cameraman holding a camera, stands back to back to a police officer.
Waldemar on Unsplash.

Several non-journalist friends have told me over the past few years that they have started to disconnect themselves from the news - in some cases entirely - so wearied have they become by the incessant gloom of our reporting.  

Meanwhile, new research from the Reuters Institute has found that people have been “turning away from the news” consistently across 17 countries tracked over the past decade - from the US to the UK, Japan to Brazil. 

And one of the primary reasons, the researchers discovered, is the “fatigue and overload” of negative news. 

Another factor was the declining trust in the media, which has again been something I have heard consistently from friends in recent years, with many telling me they are constantly reassessing who they turn to for news. 

Perhaps that is only healthy, but both trends suggest to me that there may be a problem with the way news currently is, and the effect it is having on us. 

One of the most regular examples of the “bad news” we journalists tell is the reporting of terror attacks, but whenever I hear news of an attack - whether here or elsewhere - I think not only of the immediate victims and their loved ones, but also those who may soon become victims by association. 

Perhaps the most obvious recent example here in the UK was the case of the Southport stabbings, a shocking incident that led to understandable - albeit misguided - outrage. 

As soon as it emerged that a “foreigner” - or at least someone who sounded like they might be a foreigner - was responsible, many jumped to the conclusion not only that he was an Islamist but also probably an asylum-seeker, and an illegal one at that. 

It later transpired, of course, that the 17-year-old who carried out the terrible attack had been born and raised in Wales - to “Christian” parents, no less. So not an asylum-seeker, after all, nor even a foreigner; and even though it later became clear that he had downloaded disturbing content including from Al-Qaeda, his inspiration seemed to come from a wide range of sources. 

Here was another example, our prime minister told us, that showed “terrorism had changed” and was no longer the work only of Islamists or the far-right but of “loners” and “misfits” of all backgrounds, common only in their sadism and “desperat[ion] for notoriety”. 

And yet, in the Southport case and no doubt many others, by the time the killer’s background and likely motive finally became clear, the horse had already bolted.  

In that particular case, the reaction was especially extreme, with mosques and refugee hotels attacked as part of widespread rioting. But even when there are no riots after such an attack, there can surely be little doubt that the minds of the wider British public will have been impacted in some way by the news. 

For some, perhaps the primary response will be increased fear - in general but also perhaps especially of those different from themselves. For others, on top of fear, might they also feel increased hatred, or at least mistrust? 

And such feelings will surely only increase with every new reported attack, especially when the perpetrator appears to be someone new to these shores, and even more so, it would seem, if it is an asylum-seeker. 

To ignore the reality that many attacks have been carried out by asylum-seekers in recent years is to ignore reality. But for those of us desperate not only to prevent the further polarisation of our society but also to protect the many legitimate refugees who wouldn’t dream of committing such attacks, what can be done? 

Perhaps it’s only because I’m a journalist, but in my opinion one major thing I think could help arrest the current trend would be for us to rethink the way in which we do news in general.  

Not in order to mislead the public or pull the wool over their eyes - if bad things keep happening, they must be reported, as must the identities of the perpetrators, as well as any trends in this regard - but by way of providing the necessary balance and context.  

For example, by looking into what percentage of attacks - here or elsewhere - have been committed by Islamists, foreigners, or asylum-seekers; or considering what percentage of the total population of such groups the attackers represent, and how this compares to statistics regarding other groups. 

The question we journalists - and those who read our words - need most to ask is whether we are doing a good job of informing the public about the world they live in. 

Might it also be helpful to undertake a general reconsideration of what constitutes news? Does, for example, bad news always have to reign supreme in the minds of those who curate our news cycle?  

A decade ago, I had it in mind to create a new app or perhaps even news service dedicated to rebalancing the news, such that bad news stories wouldn’t outnumber the good. Many others have had similar ideas in recent years, and several platforms have been launched, dedicated to the promotion of “good news” stories. And yet one could argue that such platforms risk being as unrepresentative of reality as those that tell only bad-news tales. Can’t a compromise be found? 

One of the first things you learn as a journalist, other than that sex sells, is that greater numbers of deaths, and especially those of children, always constitutes headline material. And one needs only to flick through today’s major news outlets to see that this practice remains almost universally upheld. But does it have to be so?  

And why is it that some conflicts and injustices will make our headlines, while others won’t?  

Take, for example, the Sudanese civil war or the recent beheading of 70 Christians in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Why is it that these horrors don’t make our headlines, while tragedies in Ukraine or Gaza do? Who makes the call, and for what reasons?  

Another long-established principle in journalism is to consider first and foremost who your audience is. So, for example, when writing for a British audience, to consider what might be of most interest to Brits. Are Ukraine and Gaza, for example, simply more relevant to British interests - in both senses of the word - than what is happening in the Global South? And even were that to be true, just because such principles of journalism are long-established, must they remain unchallenged? 

At its core, journalism is about informing, so in my opinion the question we journalists - and those who read our words - need most to ask is whether we are doing a good job of informing the public about the world they live in.  

And in my view, while a lot of good journalism is of course being done, the question of whether the public are receiving a representative picture of their environment is less clear.  

Whether or not the best approach to redress the balance is to dedicate whole news services to telling good-news stories, there’s surely little doubt that such stories are chronically underreported.  

And if our duty is not only to inform but also, by virtue of that, not to mislead, mightn’t it be argued that in failing to sufficiently well inform society about the real state of our world, we are in fact misleading them? 

No-one wants to end up in a Soviet-style “paradise” in which murders are simply denied in order to maintain the status quo, but nor, surely, do we want to live in a world in which people become unnecessarily fearful and hateful towards others, in part because of the news we feed them. 

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