In the Critics this week

Richard Mabey on summer, Leo Hollis on London’s tech transformation, Will Hutton on a new kind of capitalism and Toby Litt on Elizabeth Fraser.

The New Statesman’s special London issue this week celebrates the vibrancy and complexity of our capital. In the Critics section, our critic at large Leo Hollis explores London’s attempts to transform itself from Victorian capital to futuristic metropolis. Hollis considers Songdo, a new city being built outside Incheon, Korea, and the way it represents a new kind of metropolis: “the smart city, built according to the new rules of the information age”. Can London, “with its Roman street plan, Victorian infrastructure and endless sprawling suburbs”, become “a connected city in which monitors and sensors relay real-time data to regulate the urban fabric”? Reality, Hollis observes, seems to be getting in the way. Furthermore, smart technology comes with a warning. Hollis notes that the big players “such as IBM, Cisco, Siemens, Accenture and Mckinsey are all entering the debate on the intelligent city, the smart grid and next-generation buildings”. With this kind of packaged retrofitting of London for the 21st century, “one can’t help imagining a dystopian future (think Blade Runner) in which software companies have taken over the city”. What if London’s information were in the hands of its people rather than software companies? “London can never be like Songdo but the capital should define its own criteria for being a digital city and use its indigenous expertise to make the city a better place.”
 
The third essay in Richard Mabey’s series of seasonal diaries turns its reflections on landscape and nature towards summer. Mabey considers John Ruskin’s fear of utilitarian explanations for plant behaviour: “No one looked at plants with such loving attention, and no one disrespected more their integrity as living things”. With the extreme weather this summer generating a floral phantasmagoria, “we’ve all become a bit Ruskinian, eyes widened and imaginations frozen by prodigious growths and precocious appearances”. Mabey laments the fact that, as a species, we have never been good at delving into the lives of plants: “We like their looks and enjoy the masterfulness of cultivating them, and yet, like Ruskin, we don’t want to believe that they might have intelligent agendas of their own”. “Green things fed and sheltered Paleolithic people,” Mabey observes, but “among all the acutely observed and brilliantly comprehended animals that prowl the cave paintings of southern Europe, there is not a single plant to be seen.”
 
In Books, Will Hutton urges economists to give us a convincing vision of a new kind of capitalism. How do you break the intellectual consensus that Britain is a front-line developed economy, and must lower its public and private debts simultaneously and dramatically as a precondition for a return to growth? “To deleverage simultaneously is to invite protracted depression,” Hutton writes. “The challenge instead is to develop our economy as much as make it grow”. Hutton considers Going South: Why Britain Will Have a Third World Economy by 2014 by Larry Elliott and Dan Atkinson, with its thesis that “such epic economic mistakes have been made over the last generation, compounding those of the past 100 years, that the productive sinews of Britain’s economy – and its ability to renew that productive capacity – have shrunk to such a degree that Britain can no longer be considered a developed economy”. Meanwhile Paul Krugman’s End This Depression Now! demolishes the intellectual framework behind the coalition’s “self-defeating attempt to eliminate the structural public-sector deficit in four years, with roughly four-fifths of the task assumed by indiscriminate spending cuts”. The non-strategy has been a disaster, and yet one predicted by only a minority, “although anybody with a sense of economic history, an understanding of how markets can get locked in upward and downward spirals and a willingness to recognise that both private and public sectors cannot unwind their debts at once could have arrived at the same answer”. A reckoning is imminent, Hutton warns: “Inability to pay one’s way in the world means that the country’s buying muscle for scarcer food, energy and raw materials is under continual pressure”. And yet Krugman, Elliott and Atkinson find themselves in the same predicament. They “describe what has gone wrong brilliantly but their economics is descriptive rather than purposefully analytical,” Hutton writes. “They lack a solid political economy with an accompanying vision of what a good British economy and society would look like”. How Much Is Enough? by Robert and Edward Skidelsky argues that Western societies have lost their moral bearings. And until Krugman, Elliott and Atkinson can better answer the Skidelskys' question – what is this wealth for? – “they will do no better than draw with their opponents”.
 
Elsewhere, novelist Toby Litt pays homage to Elizabeth Fraser of the Cocteau Twins. Litt looks back to the summer of 2006, when he was asked to help Fraser out with some lyrics: “Writing lyrics for Elizabeth Fraser was the dream job and couldn’t be anything other than a gift from God”.  “A lot of writers have attempted to describe Elizabeth Fraser’s voice and have ended up writing what ex-NME editor Steve Sutherland once called 'mind’s-eye gibberish',” Litt writes. “And a lot of listeners have tried to work out what words Elizabeth Fraser’s voice is singing and have concluded that it’s 'mind’s eye gibberish'”. Since posting Fraser his lyrics six years ago, Litt is still waiting to hear back. “Since the Cocteau Twins split up in 1997, Elizabeth Fraser’s fans have become extremely used to nothing happening,” Litt laments, “there’s been a deliberate avoidance of public exposure”. With Fraser now taking part in Antony Hegarty’s Meltdown line-up at the Southbank, at last Litt is days away from being in the same room as that otherworldly voice.
 
Also in the Critics: Kate Mossman lists her top ten London songs, from the Clash to the Kinks; Ryan Gilbey names his top ten London films including Oliver! and An American Werewolf in London; we list our top ten London novels, from Joseph Conrad’s The Secret Agent to Martin Amis’s London Fields;
Sarah Churchwell on the “real” Hollywood; Talitha Stevenson on Amy Winehouse; Douglas Alexander on Labour in Scotland; Ryan Gilbey reviews Searching for Sugar Man; Rachel Cooke reviews the BFI’s season “The Aristocracy on TV”; and Will Self on the lingo needed to order fish and chips in Wigan.
Can London become a smart city? (Photo: Getty)
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Would the BBC's Nazi drama SS-GB have felt half so resonant a year ago?

This alternate history is freighted with meaning now we're facing the wurst-case scenario. 

Would SS-GB have felt half so resonant a year ago? Though the clever-after-the-fact Nostradamus types out there might disagree, I can’t believe that it would. When it comes to the Second World War, after all, the present has helpfully stepped in where memory is just beginning to leave off. The EU, in the process of fragmenting, is now more than ever powerless to act in the matter of rogue states, even among its own membership. In case you hadn’t noticed, Hungary, for instance, is already operating as a kind of proto-fascist state, led by Viktor Orbán, a man whom Jean-Claude Juncker, the president of the European Commission, jokingly likes to call “the dictator” – and where it goes, doubtless others will soon follow.

The series (Sundays, 9pm), adapted from Len Deighton’s novel, is set in 1941 in a Britain under Nazi occupation; Winston Churchill has been executed and the resistance is struggling to hold on to its last strongholds in the countryside. Sam Riley plays Douglas Archer, a detective at Scotland Yard, now under the control of the SS, and a character who appears in almost every scene. Riley has, for an actor, a somewhat unexpressive face, beautiful but unreadable. Here, however, his downturned mouth and impassive cheekbones are perfect: Archer, after all, operates (by which I mean, barely operates) in a world in which no one wants to give their true feelings away, whether to their landlady, their lover, or their boss, newly arrived from Himmler’s office and as Protestant as all hell (he hasn’t used the word “degenerate” yet, but he will, he will).

Archer is, of course, an ambiguous figure, neither (at present) a member of the resistance nor (we gather) a fully committed collaborator. He is – or so he tells himself – merely doing his job, biding his time until those braver or more foolhardy do something to restore the old order. Widowed, he has a small boy to bring up. Yet how long he can inhabit this dubious middle ground remains to be seen. Oskar Huth (Lars Eidinger), the new boss, is keen to finish off the resistance; the resistance, in turn, is determined to persuade Archer to join its cause.

It’s hard to find fault with the series; for the next month, I am going to look forward to Sunday nights mightily. I would, I suppose, have hoped for a slightly more charismatic actress than Kate Bosworth to play Barbara Barga, the American journalist who may or may not be involved with the British resistance. But everything else seems pretty perfect to me. London looks suitably dirty and its inhabitants’ meals suitably exiguous. Happiness is an extra egg for tea, smoking is practically a profession, and
the likes of Archer wear thick, white vests.

Swastikas adorn everything from the Palace of Westminster to Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palace is half ruined, a memorial to what the Germans regard as Churchill’s folly, and the CGI is good enough for the sight of all these things to induce your heart to ache briefly. Nazi brutality is depicted here as almost quotidian – and doubtless it once was to some. Huth’s determination to have four new telephone lines installed in his office within the hour is at one end of this horrible ordinariness. At the other is the box in which Archer’s mutinous secretary Sylvia (Maeve Dermody) furiously stubs out her fag, full to the brim with yellow stars.

When I first heard about The Kettering Incident (Tuesdays, 12.20am; repeated Wednesdays, 10pm) I thought someone must have found out about that thing that happened one time I was driving north on the M1 with a more-than-usually terrible hangover. Turns out it’s a new Australian drama, which comes to us on Sky Atlantic. Anna (Elizabeth Debicki), a doctor working in London, pitches up back in Tasmania many years after her teenage friend Gillian disappeared into its Kettering forest, having seen a load of mysterious bright lights. Was Gillian abducted by aliens or was she, as some local people believe, murdered by Anna? To be honest, she could be working as a roadie for Kylie, for all I care. This ponderous, derivative show is what happens when a writer sacrifices character on the altar of plot. The more the plot thickens, the more jaw-achingly tedious it becomes.

Rachel Cooke trained as a reporter on The Sunday Times. She is now a writer at The Observer. In the 2006 British Press Awards, she was named Interviewer of the Year.

This article first appeared in the 24 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The world after Brexit