Be honest: you love Rupert Murdoch. You love Sky Sports, the fifth season of Mad Men, the Sky News iPad app, The Times’ Philip Collins, Caitlin Moran on last night’s television and Erica Wagner on next week’s read. You love books from HarperCollins, Manchester United in three dimensions, and the Sunday Times uncovering the unprecedented level of access to No 10 enjoyed by Conservative donors.

We all do. Maybe you love different things than I do: perhaps you prefer Libby Purves on theatre to Daniel Finkelstein on politics, but whether it was the animated hi-jinks of Homer, Marge, Bart, Lisa and Maggie or The Art of Fielding, this year, the Murdoch empire produced something you’d really rather not live without.

The continued success of the Murdoch enterprise – because, underneath the froth about failed takeovers and falling share prices, this was a year in which people were wowed by Gary Neville and in awe of Alex Crawford – is a testament to the fact that, more often than not, markets work. They’re the best system yet devised for promoting merit and driving up standards. That’s why competition in public services resulted in improved outcomes in schools and hospitals. But its misdemeanours and excesses are a reminder of another truth about markets: the problem with them is that give us exactly what we want.

The Murdoch empire, as depicted in Tom Watson’s magnum opus, Dial M For Murdoch, is a sprawling and sinister shadow state that has colluded with the police and the political class, with dire and unprecedented consequences for British politics. Dial M For Murdoch is a brilliantly written, perfectly pitched piece of polemic that demands to be read: but it’s wrong. News International isn’t a unique ogre, sitting in Wapping and poisoning our politics. It’s a successful business, and businesses, from Tesco to Amazon to your local corner shop, only succeed when they give customers what they want. And the fact is we were all obsessed with what she was wearing, what he said to who, where they did it, and how many times. We were the demand. They were just the supply.

There’s an unhappy conceit in progressive politics: that the only reason that we haven’t built Scandinavian socialism in Britain is because the voters were tricked, because people didn’t really want Thatcherism or New Labour, that we had other options. This isn’t just a British disease: during the peak of President John Adams’ popularity, Thomas Jefferson spoke of the people ‘recovering their true sight’. Progressives worldwide con themselves into thinking that people couldn’t possibly disagree with them if they were left to their own devices. We laughed at George W Bush, mocked Boris Johnson, and sneered at Silvio Berlusconi.  But ultimately, they laughed longer, because they won. The real villain of the piece – if there is one – in Dial M For Murdoch is ourselves alone: the people who rushed to the newsstands and who marvelled at the scoops unearthed. There’s a disconnect in progressive politics between our expressed values and our actions, a gulf between our words and the aspirations of our voters.

David Cameron’s great strength at the last election was that he projected an image of himself as comfortable with modern Britain. While Cameron has lost his sheen, one of Labour’s current weaknesses is that we can seem opposed to modern Britain, a creature of the counterculture. At a time when people are concerned about their jobs, their public services, and their futures, perhaps there are more important subjects for Labour to discuss than the Murdochs.

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Stephen Bush is a member of Progress, works as a journalist, and writes at adangerousnotion.wordpress.com

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Photo: JoeInSouthernCA