The Social Justice Left: A New Ideology

In recent years, a new kind of narrative has been visible in public debate, one which did not exist twenty or thirty years ago. As Douglas Murray (2020: 2) comments: ‘The interpretation of the world through the lens of “social justice”, “identity group politics” and “intersectionalism” is probably the most audacious and comprehensive effort since the end of the Cold War at creating a new ideology’. In this piece, the constituent elements of this new ideology are described.

A snapshot of news stories from the latter part of 2022 and the beginning of 2023, when I first started to think and write about this illustrates the extent to which political and social debate has changed. Since then, the examples have proliferated including, most recently, the police response to the murder of Henry Nowak in Southampton in 2026.

These examples represent practical manifestations of the influence of a new ideology. Along with traditional news stories involving inflation, the cost of living, the state of public services and strikes – various events involving issues of identity, discrimination and social justice were prominent in the UK at the end of 2022 and beginning of 2023. In November, the footballer Beth Mead was taken to task for saying in an interview that the lack of diversity in the England squad was a ‘coincidence’. Meanwhile, in the men’s game, English footballers continued to ‘take the knee’ at the start of matches in support of Black Lives Matter – the idea if not the organisation – and, before and during the World Cup in Qatar, European football organisations, players and pundits were vocal in their condemnation of the forbidding of same sex relationships in the host nation. December saw the broadcasting of the Netflix documentary in which Meghan Markle and the King’s youngest son Harry repeated their allegation that racism is rife in the British media and maybe even in the Royal Family itself. A few weeks before, an elderly royal aide – Lady Susan Hussey – resigned after widespread publicity was given to a claim byNgozi Fulani, the head of a domestic abuse charity, that she was subject to racism at a Buckingham Palace function. 

In December too, the transgender issue hit the headlines when a judge in Scotland ruled that transgender women with a Gender Recognition Certificate (GRC) can legally be defined as women when it comes to representation on public bodies. Very soon afterwards, the Scottish Parliament passed legislation that introduced a system of self-declaration for obtaining a GRC replacing the need for a medical diagnosis of gender dysphoria and reducing the qualifying age from 18 to 16. In the early part of 2023, the UK Government blocked the bill (the first time they had intervened in Scottish legislation since devolution was introduced in the late 1990s) on the grounds that it was in conflict with other UK-wide legislation. The controversy over the bill was then further heightened when it became mixed up with the case of a man who, having been charged with rape, changed gender and attended the trial as a woman.

These type of news stories, centring on race, gender and sexual orientation, are now common currency. They reflect the social and political influence a new ideology has had over the past decade or so. Although it began life in universities, this ideology has spread into the wider population as graduates, particularly from social science and humanities disciplines, have gone on to occupy key positions within the private and public sectors and most notably the media and television more generally. This new ideology is much easier to grasp than the ideology of postmodernism – from which, as we shall see, the new ideology extensively draws – which was difficult to grasp and offered no goal to aim for.

There is a case for saying that this new ideology now provides, sometimes in a diluted form perhaps, the dominant ideology in many countries in the West. Activism based on its principles, whether virtually through social media or through more conventional means – for instance, the toppling of the statutes of those linked with the slave trade to the protests of the Black Lives Matter movement which became particularly prevalent following the events of May 2020 when an African American George Floyd was murdered by a police officer in Minneapolis – has had a considerable impact on political debate in the UK and elsewhere. Concepts deriving from the ideology – such as ‘white privilege’, ‘unconscious bias, ‘toxic masculinity’, ‘trigger warnings’, ‘decolonising the curriculum’ and, most common of all, ‘diversity, inclusion and equality’– have become mainstream and yet were virtually unheard of as little as a decade ago.

What Should We Call It?

This new ideology has been defined in a variety of ways. It should be noted that this labelling has been undertaken predominantly by those who are hostile to the ideology. The dominance of negative voices in definitional terms is mainly a product of the fact that adherents of the new ideology do not seek to defend the general abstract principles they utilise – which they, perhaps invisibly, accept as given (McHale, 2015: 172) – but rather focus on applying them to particular jurisdictions such as critical race theory, queer theory or postcolonialism and so on. As a totality, the body of thought espoused has been labelled as ‘social justice’ (Murray, 2020; Pluckrose and Lindsay, 2020), or ‘woke’ (Retanwald, 2020; Williams, 2022), or ‘left liberal’ (Cobley, 2018) or just ‘identity politics’ (Fukuyama, 2018). 

None of these labels capture accurately enough what this new ideology is about. To use the label ‘social justice’ is misleading because that is a concept, like many in political philosophy, which is ‘essentially contested’ (Gallie, 1955/6). At a simplistic level, of course, everyone is in favour of social justice. No one would want to argue for social injustice. What matters is what is meant by social justice, how it is constituted. And what constitutes justice is a matter of some dispute. One can, for instance, subscribe to a left or a right leaning account of social justice, as the American political philosophers John Rawls and Robert Nozick did, memorably, in the 1970s (Rawls, 1971; Nozick, 1974). Nozick seeks to justify, in response to Rawls, inequality (clearly at odds with the emphasis on equality in the new ideology being defined here) and even Rawls’s left-leaning egalitarian theory of justice makes little reference to identity groups. As a result, Rawls is not a thinker who is much mentioned as an ally by contemporary left-leaning identitarians. In other words, in order to properly examine the new ideology, we need some content to be able to indicate, even at a basic level, what kind of social justice we are talking about. Pluckrose and Lindsay (2020) get round this problem by capitalising Social Justice to distinguish the account of it provided by the new ideology from the concept in general. This is sensible, but a little confusing and does not hint at the content.

To use the label ‘woke’, similarly, is not an optimum option. It is true that woke does have a neutral meaning denoting someone who, in the words of the Oxford English Dictionary, is ‘alert to racial or social discrimination and injustice’. To be woke is to be regarded, in this interpretation, as having a special skill, not possessed by everyone, of recognising and articulating (of being awake to) the, often hidden, relationships of oppression that bedevil society. Rectenwald (2020: 2) equates it with the Christian notion of being saved so that ‘being woke involves redressing transgressions through repentance and reformation’, although he also recognises that being woke is about personal salvation at the level of the individual but also involves a ‘collateral commitment to make reparations for social and political injustice  – to help make a better (more just) world’, where justice is defined in terms of group identity.

Using the label ‘woke’ as a definitional fiat, however, remains problematic. For one thing, it is a term that has often been used in a derogatory sense by its opponents, to describe ‘hectoring’ and ‘moral grandstanding’ by a pretentious cultural elite and is now, because of its negative connotations, not a label that most adherents of the ideology would accept (Williams, 2022: 15, 26-8). Instead, it is often presented as a right-wing invention (Hirsch, 2019) – although, as this post will argue, it is not necessary to be right wing to be ‘anti-woke’. For another, the word woke has a more specific historical usage as a rallying call, first made in the 1920s, for black people, particularly in the United States, to be aware of racial injustice and threats from white people. It was not, in other words, unlike the twenty first century version, a label that is encouraged in white culture and which has a much wider coverage including many different forms of social discrimination (Williams, 2022: 23-5).

It is common, particularly amongst political commentators, to describe the new ideology as liberal left. It is easy to see why this label is used by some. In the first place, the new ideology is associated with social liberalism (in contrast to social conservatism) in the sense that it espouses a number of what it sees as progressive causes such as racial justice, transgender and gay rights and gender equality. Second, to complicate things even further, in the political vernacular used in the United States, ‘liberal’ has left-wing connotations not present elsewhere, and particularly in Europe. 

To use the ‘liberal’ label in describing the new ideology is, however, misleading because some of its major themes are antithetical to principles which, in the lexicon of political philosophy, are fundamental to liberal political theory. In the first place, liberals value the objective rationalism of the Enlightenment and the capacity of science and reason to discover objective truths. This optimism, however, is at odds with the new ideology’s – postmodern inspired – scepticism of universal objective truth.  For the liberal, too, the individual is sovereign, and the identity of individuals – their race, gender or sexual orientation – should be irrelevant. In other words, for the liberal, a universal approach is mandated where people should be treated equally regardless of their identity. This was the central argument of the liberal-inspired Civil Rights movement in the 1960s and 1970s and is illustrated by Martin Luther King’s famous speech in which he said, ‘I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character’. 

For the liberal, then, identities are seen as a tool of oppression as indeed they were so used by many racist colonialists in the past who sought to label people of colour as somehow inferior to white people.  For the new ideology, on the other hand, identities are put back on the agenda and are seen as a tool of liberation and not as an impediment to it. According to the new ideology, not to mention the skin colour of a person – to adopt a position of ‘colour blindness’ – is now tantamount to racism. This means that, in the new ideology, there is a tendency to judge people by their characteristics and not, as the liberal would have it, the content of their character (see, for example, Applebaum, 2010). 

Finally, some seek to describe the new ideology by using the catch all term ‘identity politics’. This label does capture something of great importance in the new ideology. Group identities are regarded as central to understanding societal dynamics, whether they be based on race, gender or sexual orientation as well as disability and size. Within this group framework, the individual is subsumed. A fundamental feature of the new ideology is therefore a belief in the centrality of identity politics.

However, defining the new ideology merely in terms of ‘identity politics’ is not optimum. This is because identity politics is not the exclusive property of the new ideology. It is possible to conceive, for instance, of a very different form of identity politics – centring, for instance, on national or community identity or on white identity – which is completely at odds with the new ideology’s focus on groups – based on race, gender and sexual orientation. To illustrate this, note that the so-called Identitarian movement is a contemporary far-right nationalist organisation championing white European peoples and culture (Mudde, 2019).

It is tempting to equate the ideological promotion of identity politics with advocacy, or at least acceptance, of a pluralist theory of the state. This is an empirical theory (describing the state as it actually is rather than how it is deemed it ought to be) associated above all with the work of the American political scientist Robert Dahl (1963, 1971). The pluralist theory of the state, which is probably still the dominant position within political science, holds that the existence of, often competing, groups is a natural feature of all societies. The state’s role is to mediate between these groups and government outputs are the result of group pressure. What governments do will be a mirror image of the balance of power of groups within society. In pluralist theory, the power structure in Western liberal democracies is diffuse and fragmented. All groups will be able to get their voices heard and most groups will be able to influence public policy outcomes at least to some extent. It is this openness to group pressure that, for the pluralists, provides the democratic character of Western states.

The advent of identity politics has certainly created an extremely adversarial form of hyper-pluralism. However, the pluralist model of the state is not the one subscribed to by the new ideology we are seeking to define. Rather, the Marxist or elitist theory of the state, in which power is concentrated, is a more accurate representation (see Dryzek and Dunleavy, 2009). This is because the new ideology postulates the existence of a number of dominant and subordinate, or marginalised, groups based on characteristics such as race, gender, sexual orientation and body size (Bernstein, 2005). These power hierarchies are maintained by systems of oppression whether centring on white supremacy, patriarchy, heteronormativity (a concept which assumes that there are only two genders and that sexual and marital relationships ought to be between people from opposite genders) or cisnormativity (a belief that people whose gender matches the body they were born with is a desirable and normal state of affairs). 

According to the identitarian approach adopted by the new ideology, an individual’s life chances are determined largely by the possession of a particular characteristic or characteristics with people of colour, women, gays, and transexuals destined to be subordinated to, and oppressed by, people who are white, straight and male. The commonly heard conversational preface – ‘speaking as a gay man’ or ‘speaking as a black person’ and so on – is a reflection of the central importance that identity has for advocates of the ideology. Justice for the oppressed can be achieved by genuine equality but this can only come about as a result of radical, and perhaps even revolutionary, action that challenges and overthrows existing power structures and the dominant language used to reinforce them. 

Taking on board the problems associated with the definitions suggested in this chapter, I would label the new ideology under review as the social justice left (SJL). This, albeit quite simplistic, label, has a number of advantages over its rivals. First, it provides some content to the social justice claims being made. Although not, as we shall see, without some problems, the content of the ideology owes more to Marx than to liberalism. Second, using the label SJL avoids reference to the value-laden term woke. Thirdly, our preferred definition rules out some forms of identity politics associated with the political right. 

There are two additional factors that need to be explored in this definitional exercise. First, what the label SJL doesn’t convey is the, considerable, extent to which the ideology draws upon postmodern principles. Second, there is some dispute in the literature about the influence of Marxism on the new ideology. Since the new ideology has been defined here as the social justice left, establishing its Marxist credentials is important.

The Postmodern Origins

Postmodernism is a label given to a body of thought that emerged mainly in the 1960s. It contains a wide variety of (initially mainly French) theorists in a wide variety of disciplines, not just in the social sciences but in art, architecture, and cultural studies too (see, for instance, McHale, 2015; Colgan and Hicks, 2020; Harvey, 2000). Central figures were Michel Foucault, Jacques Derrida and Jean-Francois Lyotard. Postmodernism is difficult to define – because of the multidisciplinary homes of its exponents and because various different strands of thought have been placed under the postmodern umbrella – but, at its heart, the postmodern attitude, as defined by its French exponents at least, points out the necessary limitations in the project to master the nature of reality. It is therefore a direct challenge to the modernist approach.

The modernist approach, influenced by the Enlightenment, is essentially a belief in the omnipotence of universal reason; a confidence in the ability of reason to penetrate to the essential truth of things and to achieve progress; and a foundationalist ontology which argues ‘that a real world exists independently of our knowledge of it’ (Marsh and Stoker, 2002: 11). Postmodernism therefore represents a challenge to the confidence exhibited by Enlightenment ideologies such as liberalism and socialism.  

Postmodernism, then, suggests that the search for ultimate answers is a futile exercise as the world is too fractured, too diverse and too arbitrary to be understood by the grand explanatory schemes or metanarratives so loved in modernist thought. Instead, difference and variety are celebrated. Moreover, an anti-foundationalist ontology is promoted whereby the world cannot be objectively observed but is socially constructed in a variety of ways. That is, postmodernism denies the modernist claim that there is a distinction between the objectively true and the subjective experience of individuals.

The postmodern age is therefore equated with the end of a theory of knowledge; that is, postmodernists adopt a relativistic attitude arguing that all knowledge claims, all political and moral commitments, are as good as any other. Moreover, in an argument particularly associated with Foucault (2002), the dominant knowledge claims, or discourses, in any society are a product of power in that they serve the interests of a dominant group or groups and act against an oppressed group, or groups. Significantly for the development of SJL ideology, this means that the categories and distinctions we make serve the interests of the powerful creating a hierarchy in which there is an oppressed and an oppressor. Peterson (2019: 310) explains this outlook: ‘There are “women” only because men gain by excluding them. There are “males” and “females” only because members of that more heterogeneous group benefit by excluding the tiny minority of people whose biological sexuality is amorphous’.

One reading of postmodernism is as a politics of despair. As such, it has been criticized for being overly destructive. As Hay (2002: 217) points out, ‘by confining itself to deconstruction postmodernism never risks exposing itself to a similar critique by putting something in place of that it deconstructs’. In other words, postmodernism is criticized for its oppositional nature. In Gamble’s words (2000: 116), it offers ‘no guidance as to what should be done about all the modernist processes which are in full flow’. Dowding (2016: 23) puts it in even more strident terms commenting that: ‘I consider postmodernists to be hypocrites who make verbal claims, but make no attempt to live their lives by them, preferring the comforts provided by the Enlightenment and its canons of reasoning’.

It is not surprising that the scepticism enshrined in postmodernism occurred when it did, in the second half of a century in which confidence in progress had been shattered by two world wars and the rise of murderous totalitarian regimes in Germany and the Soviet Union. Not insignificantly, the role of science – the gold standard of Enlightenment thinking – in facilitating twentieth century atrocities – the use of the atomic bomb against Japan being the prime example – was increasingly being questioned.

Postmodernism and the Social Justice Left

The anti-Enlightenment ethos of postmodernism has been extremely influential in many contemporary ideologies. Environmentalism, for instance, incorporates the growing scepticism about the human ability to master and control nature. The SJL, too, is to a large extent derived from postmodernism. From postmodernism, it has adopted a scepticism of the existence of objective truth leaning instead to the position that knowledge is socially constructed and must be viewed in the context of power structures. Dominant Enlightenment ideas in the West – such as scientific rationalism – are therefore viewed with scepticism since they are held to serve the interests of dominant groups within society. 

Postmodernism is, above all, concerned with deconstructing, problematizing and responding to existing ideas rather than providing a meta-narrative of its own. Such a negative exercise was never likely to be influential beyond the university environment. In the 1980s and 1990s, though, some aspects of it were adapted, initially by academics, to develop a new ideology defined here as the SJL. This new ideology has adapted, or gone beyond, postmodernism and put it in the service of a goal-oriented programme aimed not at deconstructing the world but at creating a better one. Pluckrose and Lindsay (2020) describe this as ‘applied postmodernism’. So, for example, queer theory is based exclusively on postmodern principles (McCann and Monaghan, 2020) and in other theories – postcolonialism (Quayson, 2000), disability and fat studies (Goodley, 2016; Rothblum and Solovay, 2009), gender studies (Richardson and Robinson, 2020) and critical race theory (Delgado and Stenfancic, 2017; McIntosh, 1989) – postmodern principles are dominant.

Central to all these theories is the postmodern derived scepticism of knowledge claims and their role in serving the interests of some groups at the expense of others. The new theories, though, all contain a call to action; that these power structures, benefiting some and disadvantaging others, are objectively true and normatively undesirable, and must be dismantled in order to promote social justice. In other words, a social justice metanarrative was added to replace the negativity and despair inherent in traditional postmodernism.

The legal scholar Kimberle Crenshaw (who played a leading role in developing the important SJL concept of intersectionality – see below) sets out this revision (some would say mutation) of traditional postmodernism when she writes that, although the social construction of meaning inherent in postmodernism is ‘generally sound’ this is not to say that ‘a category such as race and gender…has no significance in our world. On the contrary, a large and continuing project for subordinated people – and indeed, one of the projects for which postmodern theories have been very helpful in thinking about – is the way power has clustered around certain categories and is exercised against others’ (Crenshaw, 1991: 1297). 

Crucially important aspects of this applied postmodernism relate to language. SJL scholars and activists take on board the importance that traditional postmodernists attach to language as a constructor of reality. This is particularly associated with Derrida (1976) who, to paraphrase, famously said there is no meaning outside of the text. That is, words do not, straightforwardly at least, refer to things in the real world, but are themselves, partly at least, creators of that world. Since, for the SJL, language constructs reality in the service of a dominant group – whether men or Western or white or cisgendered – its use has become a central element of SJL activism. The policing and, if necessary, changing or invention of language as a result of ‘discourse analysis’, then, become an important means of helping to dismantle power structures. The importance for social and political philosophy of the adoption of this approach to language (initially, in the 1990s, described as political correctness) cannot be exaggerated. It is behind the SJL emphasis on ‘discursive’ (or verbal) violence and explains why microaggressions – ‘brief, everyday exchanges that send denigrating messages to certain individuals because of their group membership’ (Sue, 2010: xvi) – and trigger warnings are widely evoked concepts. 

To give a specific example, take the classic libertarian account of freedom offered by the nineteenth century British political thinker J.S. Mill. He argues, as liberals have ever since, that freedom of speech should only be restricted when it can be shown to cause harmful actions such as inciting violence against those to whom the speech is directed. Merely causing offence is not enough to justify prohibiting free speech, even if the speech is deemed to be hateful (Mill, 1869). According to the SJL, however, this distinction – between speech and action – does not exist. Rather, hate speech itself is a violent act that has an immediate and harmful impact (Mackinnon, 1993). Any language deemed to be hate speech, as a consequence, should be immediately prohibited without any consideration of its consequences. 

By contrast, more conventional justifications for restricting hate speech accept that their case must be based on identifying negative consequences that flow from it. In other words, the speech by itself is not enough to justify prohibition. The obvious justification for prohibiting hate speech is if physical harm is inflicted as a direct and relatively immediate result of something that has been expressed. Such occurrences are – probably – few and far between, and therefore does not provide adequate justification, in most cases, for prohibiting hate speech unless we adopt a looser criterion of causation or look for alternative justifications. Waldron (2012), for instance, argues that the harm caused by hate speech is its threat to societal cohesion and, more importantly, that it undermines the dignity of those who are targeted, their sense of self-worth and status in the eyes of others. Whether this can be adequately distinguished from speech which others find offensive – which Waldron and others want to reject as a justification for prohibiting free expression – is another matter. All that is being suggested here is that if the distinction between speech and action is rejected – as SJL scholars insist – then it is not necessary to get involved in a debate about the consequences of free speech.

A related theme of applied postmodernism is the adoption of standpoint theory, or – to be more accurate, because it is concerned with the generation of knowledge – standpoint epistemology. This is an idea first developed by the Hungarian Marxist scholar Georg Lukács in the 1920s (1923). He argued that the economic position of the working class gave them a unique position, unlike the bourgeoisie, to discern objective truth where they would recognise their exploitation and desire to change society. This served as an interesting contrast with the traditional Marxist distinction between the objective reality of the position of the working class in capitalist society and their subjective awareness of this position, with post-Marxian Marxists such as Lenin arguing that it was necessary for a group of committed and disciplined group of revolutionaries to effect change in the absence of working-class consciousness. Standpoint epistemology was, in turn, adapted by feminists in the 1980s – with the privileged cognitive vantage point accorded to women because of their subservience to men (Harding, 1991) – before being applied more generally to a range of identity groups (see, for instance, Medina, 2013).

Standpoint epistemology proposes that what can be known by an individual is rooted in their social position, in their ‘lived experience’. Now, from a postmodern perspective, the application of standpoint theory turns into epistemological relativism whereby competing truth claims exist without a means of determining their veracity. There is ‘my truth’ and there is ‘your truth’ and no means of determining which ‘truth’ is to be preferred. From the perspective of the SJL, however, this relativism is rejected. It is the voices of the oppressed that are regarded as more authoritative than those of the oppressors who are blinded by their privilege. That is, (following Lukács) membership of a subordinated identity group grants access to particular, and superior, knowledge that is unavailable to members of dominant identity groups. 

The Social Justice Left and Marxism

The extent to which SJL ideology is influenced by Marxism has been disputed. If we are to establish the new ideology’s place on the left of the political spectrum then clearly it is important that the link with Marxism is justified. Pluckrose and Lindsay, although accepting that it is left-wing activists and scholars who are the major exponents of the SJL ideology, argue that postmodernism, rather than Marxism, is the key driver of the new ideology. To draw the conclusion that key aspects of the SJL are drawn from Marxism is, they argue, ‘specious’ (Pluckrose and Lindsay, 2020: 270).

It is true that, at one level, Marxism and postmodernism are incompatible. Pluckrose and Lindsay rightly draw attention to the fact that Marxism is one of the metanarratives that postmodernism and the SJL rejects. That is, postmodernism rules out the possibility of developing an ideology which offers a total account of the world based on universal truths and values offering a desired and possible end-goal. In this sense, Marxism is part of the Enlightenment project rejected by postmodernism and the SJL. 

In answer to the, largely correct, assertion that postmodernism and Marxism are incompatible at a fundamental level, it is important to recognise that the applied postmodernism central to the SJL is almost as far removed from traditional postmodernism as Marxism is. That is, whilst the SJL rules out the kind of Enlightenment-inspired universal truths searched for by ideologies such as Marxism, the applied postmodernism of the SJL also rejects the relativism associated with traditional postmodernism. Rather, although the dominant ideas and values of the age reflect power structures and can be dismissed as universal truths, those who are oppressed do have an authoritative voice and do, in a very real sense, ‘speak truth to power’.

Now, it is certainly true too that many of the key ideas of the SJL that might be accredited to Marxism – for instance, on the hierarchal division between oppressed and oppressors, and the way in which ideas serve the interests of the dominant group – can be found in postmodernism. On the other hand, this is not surprising since many of the key postmodernists had Marxist sympathises. Derrida, for instance, regarded his theory as a radicalized form of Marxism (Peterson, 2019: 306, 310-12). At the very least, postmodernism, on one interpretation, was, to a certain extent, the product of a disillusionment with Marxism, representing a politics of despair at the failure to realise Marxism’s revolutionary predictions in the West and the catastrophic consequences of communism in the East. 

So, my contention is that there are important elements within the SJL ideology that bear a close relationship with Marxist themes and the new ideology only makes sense once that is recognised. In particular, SJL ideology derives from Marxism its activist bent, that the point of theory is not, as Hegel had argued in his idealistic theory of history, to understand the world but to change it. It also adopts the Marxist idea that hierarchy is a product of oppression and the exercise of power, and the position that the dominant group in a hierarchy determines the dominant ideational discourse which serve its interests and subjugates the oppressed. The SJL ideology differs from conventional Marxism in the crucial respect that the latter posits a single pyramid with one ruling and one oppressed group, based on economic ownership, whilst the former configures several hierarchical relationships of oppression and subjugation. 

Some scholars have explicitly sought to adapt Marxism to take account of the empirical reality of the declining importance of social class (in subjective terms at least) and the emergence of a variety of influential identity groups based on race, gender and sexual orientation. Ernesto Laclau and Chantal Mouffe, for instance, wrote in the 1980s:

‘To what extent has it become necessary to modify the notion of class struggle, in order to be able to deal with the new political subjects – women, national, racial and sexual minorities, anti-nuclear and anti-institutional movements etc – of a clearly anti-capitalist character, but whose identity is not constructed around specific “class interests”? (Laclau and Mouffe, 1981; see also Laclau and Mouffe, 2001).

Marxists such as Laclau and Mouffe are well aware of the disparate nature of these identity groups and the difficulty of bringing them together in a way that was possible with social class. One step is to argue that these marginalised identity groups – racial and sexual minorities, and women – are all subject to dominance in power structures. That is, such marginalised groups have a shared identity of oppression. It is also important to note that the concept of intersectionality helps to bridge the gap between Marxism and the SJL ideology. First developed by the legal scholar Kimberle Crenshaw (1991), intersectionality is a term used to denote the existence of interlocking systems of domination and oppression based on gender, race and sexual orientation. Those in more than one oppressed and marginalised category, it is argued, are in a particularly disadvantaged position. Black women, for instance, are likely to face levels and types of discrimination not experienced by white women or black men. So, although those oppressed – by race, gender and sexual orientation – are in different and independent hierarchies, intersectionality provides a unifying frame for those possessing two of more identity characteristics.

Conclusion

What I have done in this post is to describe the new SJL ideology, and – in particular – how it differs from traditional liberalism. I have made no normative claims about the desirability of either ideology. What I think, however, is that the principles of liberalism are rejected at our peril, and any attempt to defend them must understand, and challenge, the ideas of the SJL.

There is growing evidence that, in the UK at least, the political battle lines will be increasingly based on the ideas of the SJL and its opponents. Two responses to it have emerged. The first, associated above all with Reform UK, seeks to challenge the SJL by articulating an alternative form of identity politics, entering on whiteness. The second, associated above all with Kemi Badenoch and the Conservative Party, seeks to challenge the SJL by reiterating key liberal principles of universalism and individualism. The battle lines of future political competition is taking shape.

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Verso.

Lukács, G. (1971) History and Class Consciousness Studies in Marxist Dialectics

Cambridge, Mass.:MIT Press (originally published in 1923).

Mackinnon, C. (1993) Only Words, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Marsh, D. and Stoker, G. (eds) (2002) Theory and Methods in Political Science, Basingstoke: 

          Palgrave. 

McHale, B. (2015) The Cambridge Introduction to Postmodernism, Cambridge: Cambridge 

University Press.

McCann, H. and W. Monaghan (2020) Queer Theory Now: From Foundations to Futures

London: Red Globe Press.

McIntosh, P. (1989) ‘White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack’ Peace & Freedom 

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Epistemic Injustice, and Resistant Imaginations, New York: Oxford University Press.

Mill, J.S. (1869) On Liberty, London: Longmans, Green, Reader and Dyer. Available at 

Mudde, Cas (2019) The Far Right Today, London: John Wiley & Sons. 

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Nozick, R. (1974) Anarchy, State and Utopia, Oxford: Blackwell.

Peterson, J. (2019) 12 Rules for Life, London: Penguin.

Pluckrose, H. and J. Lindsay, (2020) Cynical Theories: How Universities Made Everything

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Richardson, D. and Robinson, V. (2020) Introducing Gender and Women’s Studies, fifth 

edition, London: Bloomsbury.

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Sue, D. (2010) Microaggressions in Everyday Life: Race, Gender and Sexual Orientation

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Tolerance and Reason, London: Spiked.

Is This 1945 All Over Again?

Researching and writing a book on the 1945 General Election has made me acutely aware of the striking similarities between the political environment faced by politicians and political parties at the end of the Second World and the period since the advent of the Covid pandemic in 2020. In both cases, a Conservative Prime Minister faced by an international crisis threatening life and limb decided, against his party’s natural instincts, to tackle it by using the full power of the state spending huge amounts of money in the process.

During the Second World War, and again during the Covid pandemic, a right of centre government unashamedly sought to use the state to spend and control its way out of a crisis. Churchill’s war-time socialism was matched by Johnson’s ‘Covid socialism’. The parallels are uncanny. In 1945 and 2020, the country was faced with a significant external threat. War imagery was regularly used by politicians and the media during the pandemic. Fighting the virus was a war against an invisible enemy and the battle was being fought on the front line by doctors and nurses rather than soldiers. In 2020, as in 1945, the government’s response was to use the full power of the state to tackle the threat. The state intervened in the market economy necessitating huge increases in public spending. Significant restrictions on personal liberty were instituted and these were largely accepted by a population that recognised the greater importance of defeating the enemy. 

The almost exclusive focus on Johnson’s character flaws has had the effect of directing attention away from the ideological character of his government. In economic terms, at least, Johnson presided over a government on the centre-left. By 2021, public spending had reached £1.3 trillion, almost 52% of GDP. Adjusting for inflation, this is over three times more than the figure faced by Thatcher in 1979, and almost double what it was when Labour last left office in 2010. The only comparable level of public spending occurred during the Second World War. 

Who would have thought that a Conservative Government would spend billions to keep people at home away from work, that the police would be employed to stop people from engaging in their normal day-to-say activities and that health spending would increase by £50 billion in less than four years? Now, of course, much of this was a direct response to Covid. Pandora’s box, though, has been opened. Even though the Covid crisis has abated, there now seems to be a widespread expectation that governments are there to solve people’s problems, to help them out when things get tough. People increasingly feel entitled to the state’s help. Even the relatively well-off, for instance, received some help to pay their energy bills when they began to soar in 2022. 

In 1945, as in 2020, the government was led by a flamboyant and charismatic leader whose rhetorical flourishes were a strength but whose grasp of administrative detail left something to be desired. Moreover, Johnson, like Churchill, was regarded as a maverick by some in his own party. Both preferred to be above party politics. Johnson, like Churchill, was, at least in the early part of his leadership, much more popular with the Tory rank and file than he was with the party establishment. 

Similarly, one is also struck by the similarities between Starmer and Attlee. Both were elected to succeed far left Labour leaders (George Lansbury in the case of the latter and Corbyn in the case of the former) but were themselves more moderate and pragmatic. Starmer, like Attlee, lacks the charismatic flamboyance of his main (now former) political opponent but, like Attlee, he is methodical and, as you would expect from a lawyer, is capable of a detailed grasp of his brief.

         In 1945, Labour benefitted hugely from war-time socialism. Public spending and government control became respectable. It had won the war, why couldn’t it win the peace? A Labour leader said: ‘We are living through the biggest threat this country has faced for a generation’ and ‘when this is over, I’m determined we will build a better society…because after all the sacrifices and loss we cannot go back to business as usual…we cannot go back to a society where we do not invest in our public services…We must go forward with a vision of a better society’. You might think this was uttered in 1945 – by Clem Attlee, or Ernie Bevin or Herbert Morrison – but it is actually Keir Starmer speaking in May 2020 at the height of the pandemic. 

The parallels between 1945 and now do break down to some extent. Johnson, of course, will not be the leader that takes the Conservatives into the next election. Moreover, he did not become Prime Minister as a result of the crisis as Churchill had done in 1940 but won a General Election fair and square in ‘peacetime’. In addition, Starmer has little experience of high office whereas Attlee, by 1945, had been Labour leader for ten years and Deputy Prime Minister for half of that time. There was also little that Churchill could do to prevent an election in 1945, but it might have been a different story had he remained in office and stole Labour’s thunder on social reconstruction. By contrast, the Conservatives will be in office for several years after the pandemic crisis has waned and will be judged on more than just their handling of it.

In 1945, as now, the opinion polls gave Labour a big lead. The difference was that in 1945 few believed what opinion polling, then in its infancy, was telling them. In addition, as a result of an electoral truce between the major parties, Labour did not contest by-elections from 1940 to 1945. In the run-up to the 1945 election, Coalition candidates (principally Conservatives) did lose a number of by-elections in previously safe seats to left of centre independent or Common Wealth candidates. However, at the time, the defeat of Conservative candidates was regarded as a reflection of the unpopularity of the Coalition rather than a swing to the left.

It is often claimed that the Conservatives were hindered in 1945 by Churchill’s poor election campaign. He totally misread the mood of the electorate. The people wanted to hear about domestic reconstruction. He wanted to talk about the international situation – the continuing war in the Far East and the growing power of the Soviet Union. He also adopted the familiar Conservative red scare tactic comparing Labour to the Gestapo which was ridiculous given that Labour leaders had, for five years, served in a government which he led. Despite this, the evidence is that the Conservatives gained support during the campaign but nowhere near enough to substantially dent Labour’s lead. 

Far and away the biggest difference between then and now is that the sacrifices of the Second World War were, of course, that much greater. In addition, the demand for change in 1945 was based on a determination not to return to the poverty and unemployment of the 1930s. Whilst the pandemic revealed, to some extent, the debilitating effects of inequality in British society, general standards of living, even considering the economic consequences of the lockdown, are infinitely higher than they were in the 1930s. 

Labour won a landslide victory in 1945 because the people got used to, and accepted, a form of war time socialism. The pandemic has produced a similar outcome. Johnson’s Government instituted a kind of covid socialism in which, after decades in thrall to Thatcher’s emphasis on a small state, high taxation and high public spending has become respectable again. The clamour to bail people out of difficult economic circumstances, and the recognition that stark economic inequalities – highlighted by the pandemic – should be tackled, has become commonplace. 

So, does this mean a Labour victory in 2024 is inevitable? Well, if the Conservatives maintain a commitment to a big state, they might still avoid defeat or at least avoid a Labour landslide. Even then, that might not be enough. High public spending and a big state is Labour territory. Churchill and the Conservatives went into the 1945 election accepting the need for greater state intervention. There wasn’t a huge difference between what the parties offered. But, the electorate concluded, why choose the imitator when you can have the genuine article?  Liz Truss understood that, in the current climate, lower taxes cannot be achieved at the expense of public spending cuts and a smaller state. Sunak accepts the need for public spending cuts but these have been put on the back burner. The big question now, perhaps, is not whether Labour will win in 2024, but how will the party maintain high levels of public spending in extremely unfavourable economic circumstances. Here, the success of Attlee’s 1945 Government might serve as, if not an economic guide, then certainly an inspiration. 

Premier League Review 2021-22

In many ways, it’s been a strange season. Flares, pitch invasions, and the throwing of objects at players have suddenly become the norm. Environmental activists attaching themselves to goalposts (on one occasion by the neck) provided a weird footnote.

In terms of the match statistics, nothing much has changed. The ever-widening financial disparity between the clubs makes the final league positions easy to predict. With the concept of a European Super League lurking in the background this should give the Premier League authorities some cause for concern.

First, the basic statistics. Interestingly, less than half the games (161) were home wins (42%). A total of 1,071 goals were scored, an average of 2.8 per match.

It would be inaccurate to say, of course, that the Premier League is devoid of competition. Those witnessing the season’s final day saw Liverpool challenge Manchester City for the title, Tottenham challenge Arsenal for fourth place, West Ham challenge West Ham for sixth place and Burnley and Leeds fighting desperately to avoid the dreaded drop into the Championship. 

However, this disguises the impact that financial inequality has on results and league position. 

According to the latest figures available, the combined revenue of the richest six clubs in the Premier League amounts to more than the revenues of the other 14 clubs put together. This allows the richest clubs to spend huge amounts on the best players and pay them exceedingly, and some would say obscenely, well for their services. In 2019-20, the six richest clubs paid their employees a total of £1.6b, more than the combined wages paid by the other 14 clubs. Manchester City’s £351m salary bill, the highest in the league, can be contrasted with Norwich’s £89m, the lowest. It is clear that in order to compete, some clubs are using a very high proportion of their revenues to pay wages. In fact, the wage bill of Leicester City, in 2019-20, was 5% more than the club’s revenue (Villa’s wage bill was 99% of revenue, West Ham’s 95% and Palace’s 93%).

To some extent, the impact of financial inequality on the results is there for all to see. The richest six clubs occupy the top six positions this season. The financially poorest clubs were relegated. There’s nothing new here, of course. In the 30-year history of the Premier League, only seven clubs have won the title and in 28 of those seasons one of the rich six were champions (the others were Blackburn and Leicester). Even more strikingly, in the same period, whilst 15 different clubs have finished in the top four at least once, 101 of the 120 places (84%) were occupied by the rich six clubs.

If we dig deeper into this season’s results, the impact of financial inequality on outcomes becomes even more stark. In the 168 matches played between the rich six and the other 14 clubs, 117 were won by the richer club. That is a 70% success rate. Only 24 of these matches (14%) were won by the poorer club. The six rich clubs scored 358 goals in these games against a paltry 129 scored against them. Even more significantly, 73 of the victories (almost half of the games played between the rich six and the other 14) were won by at least two clear goals. A total of 43 matches (26%) were won by at least three clear goals, and 22 (of the 168) by at least four clear goals. 

The number of one-sided and uncompetitive games will only increase as the financial gap between clubs increases.

In terms of likely scenarios for the future, it is clear that the Premier League authorities are in a difficult position. 

In scenario 1, the Premier League takes on board the need for a regulator and a much stricter hold on football finance in order to tackle inequality and make the league more competitive. They have resisted this approach so far. Indeed, since the failed European Super League breakaway, the Premier League has done everything it can to keep the rich six on board, the latest move being to allow for five substitutions next season. Greater financial equality, of course, will make the six rich clubs poorer and hinder their chances of success in European competitions. A European Super League might seem a preferable option.

In scenario 2, the Premier League resists calls to tackle financial inequality. This is likely to result in a decline in competitiveness and more one-sided matches. Critics of this interpretation make the point that support for football in England remains buoyant. All Premier League clubs still have attendances at, or close to, capacity. The problem is that match day revenue only constitutes around 12% of the revenue of Premier League clubs. The major pot of money (around 60%) comes from the broadcasters. It is unlikely that broadcasters will want to keep paying as much if the number of one-sided matches continues to rise. By contrast, the huge potential audiences for regular top European games will begin to look very attractive. 

Ultimately, the concept of a European Super League will likely occur in the form of a much-expanded Champions League. The problem for the six rich English clubs (seven now that Newcastle has been bought by the Saudi state) is that only four of them can qualify for the Champions League. An expanded competition will rectify this. Critics of the European Super League proposals were outraged at the prospect of no relegation from it and promotion to it. Well, an expanded Champions League with the top six English teams qualifying for it would look no different. 

IS THIS 1945 ALL OVER AGAIN?

IS THIS 1945 ALL OVER AGAIN?

Keir Starmer has again this week drawn parallels between our present situation and the run-up to the 1945 election, an election which, much to most people’s surprise, Labour secured a substantial majority, the first in the party’s history. 

In some ways, the parallels are uncanny. ‘We are living through the biggest threat this country has faced for a generation’ and ‘when this is over, I’m determined we will build a better society…because after all the sacrifices and loss we cannot go back to business as usual…we cannot go back to a society where we do not invest in our public services…We must go forward with a vision of a better society’. So said Starmer in May 2020. But if I hadn’t told you this, you would be forgiven for thinking this was an oration by Clement Attlee in 1945. 

Then, as now, the country was faced with a significant external threat. The parallels are heightened here by the war imagery regularly used by politicians and the media. Fighting the virus is a war against an invisible enemy and the battle is being fought on the front line by doctors and nurses rather than soldiers.

Then, as now, the Government’s response was to use the full power of the state to tackle the threat. Then, as now, the state intervened in the market economy necessitating huge increases in public spending. Then, as now, significant restrictions on personal liberty were instituted and largely accepted by a population that recognised the greater importance of defeating the enemy.

Not only this. There are also great similarities with the party leaders. Then, as now, the Government was led by a flamboyant and charismatic leader whose rhetorical flourishes were a strength but whose grasp of administrative detail left something to be desired. Moreover, Johnson, like Churchill, is regarded as a maverick by some in his own party, preferring to be above party politics. Johnson, like Churchill, is much more popular with the Tory rank and file than he is with the party establishment. Moreover, he has not come across as a ‘natural’ Conservative – in his roles as London Mayor and as Conservative leader – particularly when it comes to state intervention.

One is also struck by the similarities between Starmer and Attlee. Both were elected to succeed far left Labour leaders (George Lansbury in the case of the latter and Corbyn in the case of the former) but were themselves more moderate and pragmatic. Starmer, like Attlee, lacks the charismatic flamboyance of his main political opponent but, like Attlee, he is methodical and, as you would expect from a lawyer, is capable of a detailed grasp of his brief.

Of course, it is in Starmer’s interests to draw parallels with the aftermath of the Second World War precisely because Labour secured such a commanding majority at the 1945 election. There are, however, significant differences. 

For one thing, Starmer has little experience of high office whereas Attlee, by 1945, had been Labour leader for ten years and Deputy Prime Minister for half of that time. Moreover, unlike Churchill, Johnson did not become Prime Minister as a result of the crisis but won a General Election fair and square in ‘peacetime’. 

For another, Johnson’s association with the Tories is much stronger than Churchill’s was. The latter served in both Liberal and Conservative Cabinets in peace time as well as Coalition, or National, Governments during the two World Wars. In addition, he was largely ostracised by the party in the 1930s.

There was also little that Churchill could do to prevent an election in 1945, but it might have been a different story had he remained in office and stole Labour’s thunder on social reconstruction. By contrast, the Conservatives are likely to be in office for a few years after the pandemic crisis has waned, and Johnson may not be judged entirely on his Government’s handling of it. Had an election been due sooner, the result could have been very interesting. 

Far and away the biggest difference is that the sacrifices of the Second World War were, of course, that much greater. In addition, the demand for change in 1945 was based on a determination not to return to the poverty and unemployment of the 1930s. Whilst the pandemic has revealed, to some extent, the debilitating effects of inequality in British society, general standards of living, even taking into account the economic consequences of the lockdown, are infinitely higher than they were in the 1930s.  

Robert Garner 18th February 2020.

rwg2@le.ac.uk

Reflections on the Virus 5: Is this 1945 all over again?

 

 

city view at london

Photo by Dominika Gregušová on Pexels.com

The similarities between our present, COVID-19 dominated, situation and that pertaining in the run-up to the 1945 election is fascinating.

Then, as now, the country was faced with a significant external threat. The parallels are heightened here by the war imagery currently being used by politicians and the media. Fighting the virus is a war against an invisible enemy and the battle is being fought on the front line by doctors and nurses rather than soldiers.

Then, as now, the Government’s response was to use the full power of the state to tackle the threat. Then, as now, the state intervened in the market economy necessitating huge increases in public spending. Then, as now, significant restrictions on personal liberty were instituted and largely accepted by a population that recognised the greater importance of defeating the enemy.

Not only this. There are also great similarities with the party leaders. Then, as now, the Government was led by a flamboyant and charismatic leader whose rhetorical flourishes were a strength but whose grasp of administrative detail left something to be desired. Moreover, Johnson, like Churchill, is regarded as a maverick by some in his own party, preferring to be above party politics. This last point applies particularly to Churchill, who served in both Liberal and Conservative Cabinets in peace time as well as Coalition, or National, governments during the two World Wars. Johnson, like Churchill, though, is much more popular with the Tory rank and file than he is with the party establishment. Moreover, he has not come across as a ‘natural’ Conservative – in his roles as London Mayor and as Conservative leader – particularly when it comes to state intervention.

One is also struck by the similarities between Keir Starmer and Clement Attlee. Both were elected to succeed far left Labour leaders (George Lansbury in the case of the latter and Corbyn in the case of the former) but were themselves more moderate and pragmatic. Starmer, like Attlee, lacks the charismatic flamboyance of his main political opponent but, like Attlee, he is methodical and, as you would expect from a lawyer, is capable of a detailed grasp of his brief. Starmer’s forensic demolition of the Government’s proposals to ease the lockdown was a striking illustration of this.

I would contend, too, that Starmer understands very well the similarities between the current political situation and the run up to the 1945 election. In a remarkable, but little commented-upon, broadcast to the nation on 11 May, Starmer drew direct parallels. ‘We are’, he said, ‘living through the biggest threat this country has faced for a generation’ and ‘when this is over, I’m determined we will build a better society…because after all the sacrifices and loss we cannot go back to business as usual…we cannot go back to a society where we do not invest in our public services…We must go forward with a vision of a better society’. Starmer in 2020 or Attlee in 1945? Difficult to tell!

We should not take the parallels too far perhaps. For one thing, Starmer has little experience of high office whereas Attlee, by 1945, had been Labour leader for ten years and Deputy Prime Minister for half of that time. Moreover, unlike Churchill, Johnson did not become Prime Minister as a result of the crisis but won a General Election fair and square in ‘peacetime’.

Of course, it is in Starmer’s interests to draw parallels with the aftermath of the Second World War because Labour secured a commanding majority at the 1945 election. There are, however, significant differences. There was little that Churchill could do to prevent an election in 1945, but it might have been a different story had he remained in office and stole Labour’s thunder on social reconstruction. By contrast, the Conservatives will be in office for a few years after the pandemic crisis has waned, and Johnson may not be judged entirely on his Government’s handling of it. Had an election been due sooner, the result could have been very interesting.

Far and away the biggest difference is that the sacrifices of the Second World War were, of course, that much greater. In addition, the demand for change in 1945 was based on a determination not to return to the poverty and unemployment of the 1930s. Whilst the pandemic has revealed, to some extent, the debilitating effects of inequality in British society, general standards of living, even taking into account the economic consequences of the lockdown, are infinitely higher than they were in the 1930s.

 

 

Reflections on the Virus 4: The Politics of COVID-19

In his acceptance speech for the Nobel Price Prize he was awarded in 2007, Al Gore, the former American Vice President, made the claim that ‘The climate crisis is not a political issue, it is a moral and spiritual challenge to all of humanity’. The reason why Gore does not see climate change as a political issue is presumably because he thinks it is a ‘no-brainer’. In other words, he thinks that climate change will damage everyone’s interests because it will destroy the planet. It is therefore in everyone’s interests to do something about it and fast. In other words, there is no political decision to be made.

Lurking beneath this interpretation of Gore’s claim is the assumption that politics is predicated on the existence of differences. These differences might be about interests (self-interest) or they might be about values (what we think are important objectives for society irrespective of our particular interests). Politics is there defined as the process by which groups representing divergent interests and values make collective decisions.

Now, the claim that climate change is not a political issue is of doubtful veracity partly on the grounds that it does not affect everyone in the same way and, at least for the currently living, there is not a threat to human existence. That is, acting on climate change, particularly when doing so has significant economic consequences, is not necessarily in everybody’s interests or not to the same degree.

What of the current pandemic? Is there a case for saying that coronavirus is not a political issue but merely one that requires the objective expertise and judgment of scientists and medical professionals? Listening to Government Ministers claim, as they often do, that they are merely following the science certainly gives credence to such a claim.

What it would require for politics, defined in the way I have done so above, to be absent in the coronavirus crisis is for it to threaten everyone in similar ways, and for acting on it to be consistent with universally held values. A useful parallel is the common threat often said to exist in the event of war. In Britain, for instance, the country’s internal politics was put on hold during the Second World War and there was no General Election between 1935 and 1945. It is no accident, perhaps, that war-time metaphors have been regularly used in the pandemic crisis. Thus, we are ‘at war with an invisible killer’ and healthcare professionals are on the ‘front line’ against it.

Of course, war between sovereign states is predicated on the existence of conflict between them and, as the nineteenth century Prussian general Carl von Clausewitz memorably pointed out, war is ‘the continuation of politics by other means.’ Given that the present pandemic is a global threat and sovereign states have been, for the most part, supporting each other in fighting it, there would seem to be a stronger case for regarding it as being above politics, similar, perhaps, to an attack on Earth by aliens as envisaged by science fiction writers.

It would be wrong, however, to regard coronavirus as a non-political issue. There might be a case for regarding it as such if it threatened all humans with the same outcome (death). This is clearly not the case. Indeed, for most people, COVID-19 is pretty harmless. For the young, in particular, it barely registers. For other, particularly the elderly and those with underlying health conditions, it can and has been deadly. As a result, competing interests do exist. The action taken against it, in most cases some form of ‘lockdown’, does not serve everyone’s interests, and it serves some people’s interests much more than others.

Protecting people from the virus inevitably conflicts with some interests and values. Crucially, of course, there are acute economic costs which will be played out in declining standards of living in the future. There are also impacts on human development, not least in the case of the shut-down of schools and universities. Children’s future prospects, and particularly those from poorer backgrounds, are, it is said, likely to be damaged by their inability to access formal education. The negative psychological effects of social isolation should also not be underestimated.

Values, too, are under attack and not least the limits placed on freedom deemed necessary to control the transmission of the virus. It is one of the fundamental articles of liberal faith – exemplified by the political philosophy of John Stuart Mill – that the state should not intervene to prohibit ‘self-regarding’ actions (those that affect the individual alone), irrespective of the risks the individual is willing to take. A counter argument here would be that anyone deliberately flouting the lockdown measures is behaving, as Mill would put it, in an illegitimately ‘other-regarding’ fashion since the potential consequences – of further spreading the infection – will affect others negatively. A possibly useful compromise (one which is close to the strategy of the Swedish Government) is to self-isolate those who are likely to be particularly vulnerable to the virus whilst allowing others to behave as relatively normal, thereby preserving at least some of their liberty.

The politics of coronavirus requires a balancing of the interests and values involved. The debate surrounding schools is instructive. The Government has proposed the gradual reopening of schools but this proposal has met opposition from some teachers and parents as well as the medical profession. It is important to recognise that all of these actors have (some) competing interests which they will seek to defend and added to the equation are the interests of children (not always the same as their parents) which are probably more likely to be ignored.

The state’s role, in a democratic pluralist political system, is to seek to balance the competing interests that are articulated. Crucially, it cannot, if a fair compromise is to be achieved, prioritise the interests of one group over another, seriously disadvantaging the interests of others, unless a failure to do so is to put one group at serious and substantial risk.

 

 

REFLECTIONS ON THE VIRUS 3: LIES, DAMNED LIES AND STATISTICS

Photo by Markus Spiske on Pexels.com

Undoubtedly the biggest area of controversy in the coronavirus crisis has been the use of statistical evidence relating to death rates.  

We are regularly told now that Britain has the highest number of deaths from COVID-19 in Europe and the second largest, after the United States, in the world. That may or may not be true. Countries have different ways of recording deaths and there are varying degrees of accuracy. In Italy, for instance, there is no national figure for deaths in care homes, whereas Britain now records all sites of death in the daily figures. The British Office for National Statistics (ONS) is considered as one of the best compilers of data in the world and this might have the effect of inflating the difference between death rates in the UK and elsewhere. It should be noted that the figures provided by the ONS attribute deaths to the virus if it mentioned as a possible cause on death certificates. In contrast, the figures provided by the Government require a positive test for coronavirus.  

One other issue is the sensitivity of the tests for the virus used. The more sensitive, and accurate, they are the more deaths are going to be associated with the virus, and vice versa. In addition, finally, can we really trust the data from closed authoritarian countries such as China where the deaths per-millions is remarkably, and some would say unbelievably, small?

Finally, of course, the full impact of COVID-19 is not yet known. The experience of other viruses suggests that a second, or even third, peak might be even more severe. At the very least, we will have to wait until annual excess death rates are compiled. 

If it is the case that the UK does have the highest death rate in Europe, then we can look for possible reasons. One might be a failure to utilise testing earlier and in a more widespread fashion. Other countries, particularly South Korea and Germany, did just this and their lower death rates might be explained by the rapid action taken. On the other hand, Italy has done a lot of tests and yet still has a high death rate in comparative terms. 

Another reason for varying death rates, not one that it’s possible to blame the Government for, relates to density of population. The denser the population, the easier it is for the infection to be transmitted. Here, the UK is at a significant disadvantage. The population density of the UK is 275 people per sq. km. At the other extreme, the population density of Australia is 3 people per sq. km, and in New Zealand it is 18. In Europe, the UK has a higher population density than Sweden, Spain, Ireland, France, Italy, and Germany – we are, in other words, a crowded island as I’m sure you have recognised for yourselves! In addition, the density of population in urban areas is hugely important. It is no surprise at all that death rates have been highest in New York City and London, two of the most densely populated urban centres in the world.

Raw international comparisons are not particularly helpful though. We must also, of course, take population size into account. The UK’s population (of 67m) is bigger than Italy (60m), Spain (46m), Belgium (11m) and France (65m) so a greater number of deaths might be expected in the UK. The Population of the United States is 330 million (broadly equivalent to the combined total of the five most populated countries in Europe). In the second week of May, the total deaths attributed to COVID-19 in these five European countries (more than 120,000) was 50% higher than that of the USA.

As the UK Government’s scientific advisers have regularly said, the key indicator of the virus’s impact, in the UK and elsewhere, will be excess deaths (the difference between normal rates and those during the COVID crisis). Although all deaths from the virus are very tragic, and the pain and suffering of the victims and their families and friends should never be underestimated, some perspective is needed here. Having the daily death rates flashed on our TV screens tends to disguise the fact that, in normal times, people die every day too, and in sizeable numbers. 

So, in 2018, a total of 616,014 people died in the UK, that’s 11,846 per week or 1,687 a day. Now, this year’s death rate will undoubtedly be higher. And much of this can be explained by COVID-19. However, the annual excess death rate is important because it is a sad fact that some (maybe many) of those whose deaths are attributed to COVID are likely to have died anyway during the year. In this context, I find it baffling that some seem to express surprise and shock that the death rate is much higher in care homes than anywhere else. Of course it will be! Those who go into care homes tend to be elderly and also tend to have underlying health conditions, making them extremely vulnerable to the virus.

One other factor here is that the lockdown itself will not be neutral. That is, excess deaths this year are likely to occur as a result of the lockdown. This will be a product of an unwillingness of people to attend hospital with other medical complaints, the diversion of health resources to cope with the virus and the economic impact of the pandemic (among which is possible future cuts in health spending). This illustrates how risk assessment is a crucial part of public policy making, and how the public is, surprisingly and somewhat inconsistently, risk averse when it comes to COVID-19.

The Government claims that protecting public health ought to take precedence over the health of the economy and personal liberty, and most people seem to agree with this assessment. But is this the right approach in the case of COVID-19, given that it is a disease which hospitalises relatively few and kills even fewer, and where the lockdown may result in considerable excess loss of life? I am not, here, of course, suggesting that nothing at all should have been done to tackle COVID-19 (no government in the world has adopted this strategy) but carefully weighing up the costs and benefits of a strategy which puts tackling the virus above anything else might lead to a more balanced approach.

Comparing the risk-averse approach to the virus with the approach taken with other risky activities is instructive. In the UK in 2018, over 10,000 and nearly 2,000 deaths respectively were caused by alcohol and drugs and by road traffic accidents. Many more are linked to air pollution, much of which derives from vehicle exhausts. And yet there is no serious proposal to prohibit alcohol or motor vehicles and the public is prepared to risk continuing to drink alcohol and to drive. The Government even deems it appropriate to wait for several more decades before prohibiting the use of petrol and diesel-powered vehicles (and is therefore prepared to accept many future deaths because of the economic benefits it produces). 

REFLECTIONS ON THE VIRUS 2: MASKING THE TRUTH

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The current crisis has raised significant questions about the use of evidence, particularly statistical evidence. One evidential dimension concerns the use of anecdotes. Anecdotal evidence is the use of selected instances of an event to either support or refute a claim. During the pandemic, the use of anecdotal evidence has occurred, in particular, when discussing death rates in care homes, and the use of Personal Protective Equipment (PPE) in healthcare settings.

On care homes, it is not surprising that death rates have been higher than in the general population. Much of the media-inspired debate has been anecdotal, focusing on particular care homes where death rates have been high. Often, little context is provided. The fact that two-thirds of care homes have apparently been untouched by the virus has not been considered newsworthy, partly at least because it does not support an anti-Government narrative.

Concern about the availability PPE has been a constant theme expressed by the medical profession, care home staff, the media, and opposition politicians. The provision of PPE has undoubtedly been a challenge, not helped by the fact that the Government did not have a readily available stockpile, and there has, not surprisingly, been huge international demand for it. 

Without wishing to minimise the potential deadly consequences of the absence of PPE in healthcare settings – and the desirability of ensuring that everyone who needs it can access it – much of the debate about PPE has been conducted through the use of anecdotal evidence. That is, a small number of highlighted cases where PPE has been absent or in short supply has been extrapolated by some to make the claim that the Government is failing to provide PPE in general. In order to justify that claim, of course, it is necessary, through empirical research, to demonstrate that PPE is absent or in very short supply in a considerable number (a majority) of healthcare settings. There is no conclusive evidence that that is the case, although the provision of PPE has been justifiably raised as an important issue.

On a related theme, the use of face coverings in general, and masks in particular, has become a regular topic of debate. Unlike public authorities in other countries, such as the United States, the UK Government has resisted the urge to compel the wearing of masks in public places. In some parts of the world – particularly the Far East – the wearing of masks was commonplace even before the coronavirus outbreak. 

Like other areas of the COVID-19 crisis – and, indeed, like many other areas of public policy – the case for an against the wearing of masks is complex and not amenable to media soundbites and Government slogans. In the UK, the Government – following scientific advice – has repeatedly stated that the benefits of using masks is not proven. To cloud the issue, this conclusion is at least partly a product of a concern that making the wearing of masks compulsory would increase demand thereby resulting a shortage for healthcare workers.

So, what is the truth about the benefit of wearing masks? Well, it strikes me that those – an increasing number – who choose to wear masks are doing the right thing but not necessarily for the right reason. That is, I suspect that most people choose to cover their mouth and nose because they think it protects them against contracting the virus (some of course might be more altruistic than I am suggesting). However, they would be wrong (in most cases). 

The reality is that only the hospital grade masks – FFP2 and 3 to use the correct terminology – have a respirator that acts to protect the wearer pretty comprehensively against contracting the virus from others. Surgical masks, and other homemade face coverings, on the other hand, may have a benefit in preventing the infection of others if the wearer has the virus, but they do relatively little to protect the wearer. In addition, the evidence suggests that those who wear masks are more likely to touch their face thereby adding to the risk of contracting the virus.

The new UK Government advice (although not a compulsion), in the first stages of the post-lockdown era, is to use face coverings in shops and public transport. This advice has been issued partly, no doubt, as a psychological device to encourage people to leave their homes more. The downside is that the use of masks might encourage complacency and risk taking which will make matters worse.

MORE TOMORROW

REFLECTIONS ON THE VIRUS 1: POLITICS AND LANGUAGE

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The devil makes work for idle hands is an apt saying for the situation many now find themselves in. With fewer distractions – I apologise in advance – I am compelled to spend some of my time reflecting on the impact of the pandemic. I’ll start today by making one general point and one obvious one.

1.      First, the general point. The current COVID-19 emergency has much to interest students of politics. In the first place, does it demonstrate that authoritarian regimes are able to tackle a pandemic rather more easily and efficiently than liberal democracies? For example, China’s eventual crackdown was much more severe than anything that could be contemplated in a liberal democracy. Likewise, Michael Baum, writing in the Spectator, puts South Korea’s success down to its willingness and ability to act in an authoritarian manner. ‘Health authorities…had warrantless access to the credit card and phone data of its citizens, including location data.  So what we might regard as breaches of civil rights are part of the country’s success story’.

Moreover, given the origin of the virus, what does it tell us about our relationship with non-human nature and, indeed, our relationship with each other? Is the pandemic a product of globalization? What does it tell us about population size and density? What does it tell us about risk and about the balancing of competing interests in public policy making?

Perhaps the most significant factor for students of politics is the role of the state. Ironically, in the United Kingdom, the arrival of the virus has achieved, in terms of the state’s reach, more than even the most ardent Corbynite could have dreamt about. Not only has the state intervened to shore up the economy – by, most notably, agreeing to pay a significant part of the wages of those (the majority) economically disadvantaged by the health emergency – it has also taken unparalleled measures to control our everyday movements. 

To some extent, the reliance on the state seems to have created, amongst some at least, a passivity which belies our status as citizens. Any relaxation of the lockdown, the first stages of which were introduced at the beginning of May, was bound to be imprecise requiring choices, responsibility and common sense. The reaction seems to suggest that some are very nervous about exercising these qualities. A consequence of the ‘nanny’ state some might argue.

2.      Next, the obvious point. I am conscious how many words and phrases not heard before the end of February – a matter of barely more than two months – have become so entrenched within popular discourse that it is as if they have been around for a long time. COVID-19 and coronavirus are the obvious ones. COVID-secure, social distancing, self-isolation, the R rate, personal protective equipment (PPE), lockdown and Nightingale Hospitals are other examples. Our changing lives, in what may come to be characterised as the COVID era, are being accompanied by a changing language. 

MORE TOMORROW

Can Democracy Ever Favour Animal Advocacy? – Robert Garner

Professor Robert Garner, lecturer of political theory at the University of Leicester, considers how the objectives of animal advocates might be politically implemented within contemporary society.


Many animal advocates have spent a great deal of time talking and thinking about how we should treat animals. By contrast, they haven’t spent as much time engaging with how their desired objectives are going to be achieved. This latter task necessitates thinking about democracy, since democracy is almost universally regarded as the most just and fair way to make collective decisions binding on individuals.

Democracy, as it is presently constituted amounts to a counting exercise. That is, after a free and fair debate, the outcome which gets the most support is the one that is translated into a law or a regulation.  The problem for animal advocates is that this means they will often be unhappy with the outcome of a democratic vote. That is, the relationship between democracy and the achievement of more stringent protection for animals is a contingent one. It might be that concern for animals is widespread, and that this concern is reflected in the decisions made. More likely, though, animal advocates are going to be frustrated at the lack of interest their fellow citizens have in ensuring the well-being of animals.

So, what should the response of animal advocates be to this contingent relationship between democracy and animal protection? The obvious response is to simply say that this is the price that has to be paid for living in a democracy. If we lose a battle, we get up, brush ourselves down, and try again.

It is easy to see why many advocates of animal rights are unlikely to accept this. Imagine that there was a referendum in which the electorate voted by a majority to support the use of humans with red hair in, sometimes painful, scientific experiments. Obviously, there would be a major outcry at the very prospect of holding such a referendum, on the grounds that it involves the infringement of basic human rights. For someone who holds that animals, too, possess basic rights, it is similarly not acceptable for these rights to be overturned by a democratic vote. In many political systems across the world, basic human rights are protected against democratic majoritarianism. The same could be envisaged for the rights of animals.

I suspect many animal advocates would, at this point, challenge the democratic credentials of our political system in any case. Few animal advocates think, for whatever reason, that their views are adequately represented in the political process. They may have a good case too. Sometimes, majority support for a measure protecting animals is translated into legislative protection, as was the case with fox hunting. More often than not, though, the political power of those, usually economic, interests with a vested interest in the continued exploitation of animals is a clear obstacle to the fair and effective representation of the views of those with an interest in the protection of animals.

Given the suspicion that those concerned about the well-being of animals are not given a fair hearing in the political process, whatever democratic rhetoric proclaims, we might focus on reforms that would make the protection of animal interests more likely.

I suggest two such reforms here. The first is a radical step. Consider again the referendum that I mentioned above. Leaving aside the monstrous nature of the proposal being voted on, it can at least be said that those with red hair get a say in the decision. By contrast, humans make life and death decisions about animals, and yet there is no procedure whereby the interests of animals are represented in the political process. Isn’t this a flaw in our political system? Indeed, doesn’t it reveal a democratic deficit?

The second, and perhaps more realistic, reform proposal revolves around the promotion of deliberation. What we have now is a form of aggregative democracy. What elections or public opinion polls do is to measure pre-existing preferences. The problem with this, however, is no attention is given to the way in which preferences are arrived at in the first place.

It goes without saying that most of the ‘debates’ about animal use are not of the deliberative kind. They are usually structured in a way that favours the interests of those with a vested interest in continuing to exploit animals. Likewise, resources are often unequally distributed in debates about animals. The high status of science and scientists, for instance, is always likely to skew a debate in favour of animal research. Most debates about animal exploitation are also adversarial, degenerating into slanging matches where there is more heat than light on display, and where pre-existing preferences are rarely challenged.

A deliberative model of democracy offers an alternative. This model holds that the outcome of a debate is only legitimate if it is a product of reasoned and detailed discussion.  What matters is the quality of debate. In deliberative forums all points of view are represented, an equal chance to participate is offered to all of those who are present, and detailed, comprehensive and accurate information is available to the participants.

I would suggest that a deliberative form of democracy is more likely to produce outcomes that animal advocates want. Its outcomes are likely to be more informed, and ultimately more just. The economic interests of those who exploit animals will be less influential. If animal advocates are convinced that their case is right, then they should have nothing to fear from a genuinely deliberative debate. Deliberation increases the possibility that existing preferences will be challenged and even transformed.


Robert Garner is professor of political theory at the University of Leicester. He specialises in animal rights, focusing on animal protectionism and the political representation of non-human interests.