Please Replace The Handset And Try Again

There can be little doubt that history will judge the Thatcher privatisations badly. On the one hand, there is the unavoidable conclusion that her dream of a shareholding society was an utter failure, twinned with the exquisite irony that someone whose foreign policy was so coloured by a war about stopping the Germans conquering Britain should have worked so hard to sell it to them instead.

Equally, while history will reflect that most of the services involved could and probably should have been privatised (it's really only water and the railways in which competition was fundamentally impossible) even those that could were let down by the appalling way they were sold off. Pretty much every privatised industry carried a fundamental flaw in its structure that has subsequently seen the government ride in to rescue, well, the companies profits as much as anything.

But what's struck me most as I think about it is that in hindsight, the most damaging privatisation was the one that should have been the easiest to justify and to enact. Indeed, the financial impact of the way the sale of British Telecom was botched, while impossible to compute, may well be more staggering than anyone could imagine.

It was my new mobile phone that got me thinking about this. For while we must accept that no-one in the early 80's could have foreseen the ubiquity of mobile phones, wi-fi and indeed the combination of the two, it's easy enough to see how the way the whole industry has turned out affects our use of these devices. In Wales particularly, where rural broadband and broadband for business are at the forefront of the debate on the economy, it's worth reflecting that we did not end up here by accident.

For starters, we should note that if anyone was responsible for the competitive telephony market of today, it certainly wasn't BT. While they dragged their feet on even the simplest competitive use of their wires, it was left to the cable companies and then to the mobile operators to offer better and cheaper services. Admittedly, once the behemoth had stirred it caught up with Virgin Media and Sky in the all-in-one package stakes, but all that amounts to is the replacement of one exercise of monolithic power with another.

The legacy of that process, however, is infrastructural chaos. For as BT catch up with the idea of domestic fibre optic cabling, the result will be two parallel cable systems. On top of that, you have five different mobile phone networks with their own independent mast systems. The Tower of Babel would be too easy a metaphor...

What really strikes me, however, as a particular geek in this direction, is how reminiscent all this is of the railways. In the privatised era, the only successful competition occurred in places where there was duplication of lines. Reaching back further, one of the few redeeming features of Beeching was the way he removed many of those duplicated lines which were themselves relics of earlier slapdash competition.

So how about the truly heretical thought; what if the telephone system had been privatised the way the railways were? A phone infrastructure company coming into existence in the mid-80's would have faced pretty much none of the conditions that made Railtrack's position untenable from day one, namely a decaying infrastructure that was safety-critical, impervious to meaningful technical improvement and only able to be repaired in situ rather than replaced.

By contrast, the putative TelWires would be faced with an immediate opportunity to entirely replace its network with a new and technologically superior system. Service provision over the new fibre optic network would have offered a starting point for competition, quickly bringing the cable service into direct price competition with the existing wires. At that stage, the wires themselves could have been phased out, giving TelWires an asset portfolio to sell to fund further investments; you'd have to imagine the mobile phone masts would be popular targets, particularly once Virgin Mobile established their network-sharing model.

The historical effects of all that would have been innumerable. Imagine how different the development of dotcoms would have been if everyone in the UK had been on cable by the end of the century instead of dial-up. Imagine how many fewer rows about siting of mobile phone masts there could have been if the provision was integrated...

As for today, public wi-fi could be a nationwide rather than an urban project, as TelWires would take responsibility for providing the wireless transmitters for it as well. Admittedly this would have allowed the iPad to achieve hive mind consciousness by now...

The continuing tragedy, however, is that all this is true in nearly equal measure of the rest of the privatisations too. In particular, capital investment is generally proving impossible, whether thanks to inadequate incentives (electricity), lack of competition (water) or easy fleecing of captive customers and cowering governments (rail).

It is of course far too late to put right the damage that's already been done. But we do need to recognise that trying to change things isn't some form of thoughtcrime against the market; you can't be interfering with the free market if the market isn't free and you (or at any rate HMG corporately) are responsible for the structure of it anyway. Either way, all these infrastructural elements are going to be crucial to the future of our environment and our economy and we have a duty to ensure that we get them right.

The Contractual Obligation Blog Entry

My general strategy with this blog is to consciously not be topical, mainly because I think there are lots of people who are better at it than me but also in order to highlight things that are in greater need of attention. Nevertheless, it would probably be churlish of me not to offer some form of quasi-obituary of the Reverend Blair (or Father Blair, as he may soon be), not least because of my other blogging strategy.

It is important, I feel, that when we bandy around words like “good” and “great” that we have some semantic understanding of what they mean. This is particularly important given the number of deluded Labour members (as if there’s any other kind any more) who will undoubtedly try and pin “great” on him merely for winning three elections. Margaret Thatcher is a great Prime Minister, but not because she won three elections against the Winter of Discontent, The Longest Suicide Note In History and what can only be described as Neil Kinnock. Similarly, victory over Grey Peas Man, Tory Boy and the Vampire of Folkestone is not the stuff of greatness; being in the right place at the right time just isn’t enough.

Greatness, if such can be defined in Prime Ministerial terms, is surely a question of ideas; whether you changed what it meant to be British or to live in Britain. Goodness is more subjective; it might almost be summarised as leaving the place in a better state than you found it, combined with a sense of the mood of the piece. For example, it’s pretty much self-evident that Thatcher changed the very fabric of Britishness, so she is certainly great. Conversely, whatever your views on the necessity of what she did and the results in her time, there is a pervading sense with Thatcher that she did it with spite and with malice, something that is surely disqualifying from being a good Prime Minister.

The question, then, is simple; has Blair fundamentally changed life in Britain? My answer would have to be historical. Attlee was great, unquestionably, by my criteria. After him, there is the long rule of Butskellism, followed of course by Thatcher. In this chain, Blair’s contribution is largely to provide half of the name for the new Butskellism; Blameronism has a nice alliterative touch with its predecessor, at least.

But the real disqualifier from greatness is that Blair never faced the electoral math, never had to worry about losing an election. From 1997 to 2001 he did everything right, laid a foundation and guaranteed the landslide second term. Given what we know of that night at Granita, a great Blair would have opened up in 2001 with a second term on the scale of Thatcher’s, then jumped ship at the end and handed it to Gordon, avoided the lame duck years and made a real difference. As it is, he blew his political capital on Iraq (something for which I’m clear that 9/11 was only the excuse, not the cause) and resorted to hanging on for the supposed vindication of a third term.

I suppose it all comes down to my abiding memory of the Blair years; that arrival at Downing Street on May 2^nd. I know that I felt like the crowds I saw that day; yes, I know now that those crowds were merely the first products of the spin that was to follow, but I still know that that is how I and my whole family felt. Blair had a mandate like no Prime Minister since Attlee, and he blew it fiddling around the edges and playing “Onward, Christian Soldier” in Iraq. Far from greatness, that was a betrayal like few others in British political history. Until the grass roots of the Labour party realise that and come to terms with their abject complicity in it, that betrayal can only continue in the hands of the man from Kirkcaldy.

The Revenge Of Society

It is always worth recalling that Margaret Thatcher never said “There’s no such thing as society”. After all, what she actually said is much more interesting…

“[People constantly seeking government intervention] are casting their problems at society. And, you know, there's no such thing as society. There are individual men and women and there are families. And no government can do anything except through people, and people must look after themselves first. It is our duty to look after ourselves and then, also, to look after our neighbours.”

When considering the Thatcher legacy, one must always keep in mind the foundation of her belief system, namely a romanticised view of the English middle classes. In Thatcher’s world, a middle class freed from the shackles of over-taxation and imbued with a renewed entrepreneurial spirit would “rediscover” their spiritual (i.e. Christian) calling towards philanthropy and general neighbourliness.

For a generation of radicals, both leftist and centrist, used to thinking of Thatcher as the latest avatar of unalloyed authoritarian evil, it is surprising to discover in Thatcher what is essentially a social liberal ideal. Liberal or otherwise, however, it is an ideal that fails my primary test of political theory; it does not understand why things are as they are.

Thatcher’s Britain does exist, in a way. The trouble is, the places it exists are amongst the poorest in the world. A world based entirely on neighbourliness cannot sustain anything much beyond the smallest village; Thatcher’s Britain lives amongst the herders of the world.

Beyond that, government was and is the only option. In the early stages, monarchy sustained a larger society by giving the strong power over the weak. Later, democracy emerged to protect the weak from the strong and, as a consequence, the strong from themselves. In either case, neighbourliness was not something that could be depended upon; greed was, as ever, the only human driver one could rely on with any certainty.

Ultimately, society is not the natural state of affairs between humans; it is a situation that we have decided to arrange to be so because it is beneficial to us. Of late, we have been constantly reminded that the first role of government is the defence of the people, but history shows that it just as equally refers to defending the people from each other as from any other group. Indeed, my response to Mrs Thatcher’s pronouncement would have been in this form;

“Society does exist, and it does so primarily to prevent the poor from rising up with flaming torches and shoving pitchforks up the arses of the rich.”

My point is, the real debate in any political system is in the trade-off between liberty and society. Socialists believe in overdoing it; sacrificing too many liberties to give society a big margin. Capitalists believe in tactically underdoing it; allowing society to be dangerous iniquitous by gambling all their chips on a draconian justice system. Liberals have always plied the middle way; only we have chosen the difficult path of striking the right balance.

The danger for the Liberal Democrats is that Mrs Thatcher was the first leader of either party to really try the capitalist approach of dangling precariously on the edge of the cliff being held up by the police. Before her, both Labour and Conservatives erred on the side of caution; Labour by curtailing economic liberty, Tories by curtailing social liberty. With Blair, both parties have now swung wildly off the cliff with little to hold them in place.

As I have said before, liberalism is the beginning of wisdom; knowing that the desired solution is right on the line of that balance is the start of the solution. But it is not the end of wisdom; you have to know where you are relative to the line and how you got there to move in the right direction. The path to the liberal ideal is not necessarily liberalism in all its glory. Only when the pure liberals can show that they know which side of the line they are on will I be convinced.