1992 was a turning point in British politics, a year in which two seemingly unrelated events coincided. First, ‘Black Wednesday’ awoke British people to the realities of neoliberal globalisation. In a stand-off with international currency traders, the government lost, and surrendered control of its own monetary policy. The most immediate and tangible political effect of this shock was the collapse of British Conservatism – the Tory party’s share of the vote fell sharply to around a third, where it has remained, more or less, ever since.
However, a less visible yet more profound transformation also occurred around this time. Recorded levels of trust, which had remained constant through the 80s, and fairly steady since the 1950s, began to fall sharply from 1992 onwards, before levelling out again in 1995. In 1992, 44 percent of people still thought that ‘generally speaking, most people can be trusted.’ By 1995, this figure was down to 30 percent.
These two events are not entirely unrelated. Black Wednesday represented perhaps the most significant retreat of government from people’s lives since the Second World War, and government, as any reader of Thomas Hobbes will tell you, has traditionally performed the critical brokerage role that enables citizens to trust one another. Losing control over the value of your national currency, with the sharp interest rate rises which that led to, does immediate damage to the individual on an almost existential level. The threat of having one’s home repossessed does not simply offend one morally, it challenges one’s very identity as a parent, spouse and neighbour.
Our general sense of security has declined drastically, and our faith in the future been crippled. In 2004, we are now used to regular reminders of how little certainty our financial foundations provide. Pension funds and ISAs rise and dip without warning, and occasionally collapse altogether. Anxiety is a fact of most people’s lives; they struggle to trust one another or to trust government, because confidence in the stability of their social world is often made impossible.
The power of Wall Street bond-traders is the elephant in the corner which progressive politics refuses to discuss, on the basis that it is a sociological fact rather than a political or economic choice. New Labour’s response to globalisation is to focus on ever more minute factors in people’s social lives. The celebration of localism, and neighbourhood renewal suggest that security and trust will be rebuilt through the comforts of close community and a shrinking of the public realm. This is New Labour’s most dominant philosophy of the moment.
New Labour’s emphasis on what is ‘doable’ and ‘changeable’ means that there is, if anything, a decline in public discussion of financial markets and global capitalism, even as their power over our lives extends. In 2010, the mother lying awake at 3am worrying about her dwindling ISA could end up feeling more isolated and insecure than she would now. The fact that, if all goes to plan, her local school and hospital will engage her in decision-making will be little consolation. Mysticism will ensue, the age-old response to events which damage us incomprehensibly.
Progressive politics could be the victim of its own communitarianism. Petty Toryism and xenophobia could end up providing a more comforting, more culturally credible version of community. As Manuel Castells puts it, ‘The state’s effort to restore legitimacy by decentralising administrative power to regional and local levels reinforces centrifugal tendencies by bringing citizens closer to government but increasing their aloofness toward the nation-state.’ The progressive tonic to localism should be as follows.
In addition to citizenship education, the mechanics of globalisation (including people flows) must be taught to every child, as part and parcel of a progressive society. The fact that we know why it rains is why we don’t do things like rain dances. The fact that we know why people die is what prevents us from becoming religious fundamentalists. If British citizens are taught how and why their savings fluctuate, how and why people from overseas want to come to this country, including the political history of globalisation, this would not be just another policy gimmick, but the basis for an enlightened and trusting culture.
At present, progressive politics wants us to develop a greater and greater recognition of the interests we share with our neighbours, and less and less recognition of the pressures we share with millions of people around the world. At some point in the coming years, progressive politics will need to restore balance here, and be brave enough to lead a discussion on challenges, which sometimes leave policy entirely helpless.