British decline presents new opportunities

In the post-recession world we should focus on pursuing fairness at home

The tale of British success remains a potent one. Britain launched the industrial revolution; emerged victorious from two world wars; gained a permanent seat on the UN Security Council and became one of the five official nuclear powers.

Thus, the sense of decline fuelled by the recession, the humiliation of our political class and the mounting casualties in Afghanistan has been particularly painful.

The subject of British decline is picked up in this week's issue of Newsweek, Stryker McGuire writes:

Even in the decades after it lost its empire, Britain strode the world like a pocket superpower. Its economic strength and cultural heft, its nuclear-backed military might, its extraordinary relationship with America - all these things helped this small island nation to punch well above its weight class. Now all that is changing as the bills come due on Britain's role in last year's financial meltdown, the rescue of the banks, and the ensuing recession.

Like many others, notably on the conservative right, McGuire commits the error of explicitly linking Britain's decline to its rising public debt. Even if the national debt rises to around 80 per cent in five years time, from its current level of 56 per cent, this will remain lower than the predicted G7 average.

As Peter Wilby writes in this week's New Statesman, "In 2008, Japan's debt was 170 per cent of GDP, Italy's 104 per cent, Germany's 65 per cent and the US's 61 per cent. Through most of the 20th century and much of the Victorian era, UK national debt was far higher than it is now."

But elsewhere, McGuire correctly argues that the collapse of the housing market and the decadence of the financial sector have left the economy without any obvious source of growth. He concludes: "The great test of the next prime minister and probably the one after that, will be not only to redefine Britain's place among great nations but also to renew the kind of spirit that has ruled Britannia in the past."

Yet the assumption that Britain should fight to maintain its position in the international pecking order ignores an alternative approach. Instead of struggling to project power abroad, we should focus on pursuing fairness at home.

This must begin with a programme of radical constitutional reform. The great error made by numerous commentators has been to discuss the political crisis and the economic crisis in isolation from each other.

In truth, far more than the expenses scandal, it is the financial crisis that mandates immediate constitutional reform; a set of 18th century institutions were shown to be utterly incapable of dealing with a 21st century crisis.

John Keane (whose latest tome The Life and Death of Democracy I am currently reading) makes this point well in today's Guardian:

Let us remember the true cause of the deepest slump since the Great Depression: democracy failure bred market failure. Unelected regulatory bodies and elected politicians, parties and governments let citizens down.

In the post-recession world, this sceptred isle will be forced to become a more pragmatic and a more modest nation. The £20bn renewal of Trident, little more than a national virility symbol, must be cancelled. Military intervention abroad, humanitarian or otherwise, will become increasingly unthinkable.

Politicians will no longer be able to promise the public services of Sweden with the tax rates of the US. An aging society will require all of us to pay higher taxes to fund an acceptable care system.

The so-called 'special relationship' with the US will continue to diminish as successive administrations focus on deepening relations with advancing powers, notably China, India and Brazil. Even Conservatives will be forced to admit full engagement with the European Union is the most attractive way of exercising influence.

Such reforms are long overdue and the chance to recast Britain as an egalitarian and progressive society, along the lines of the Nordic states, is now available. It is one the next government must take.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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Is there such a thing as responsible betting?

Punters are encouraged to bet responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly.

I try not to watch the commercials between matches, or the studio discussions, or anything really, before or after, except for the match itself. And yet there is one person I never manage to escape properly – Ray Winstone. His cracked face, his mesmerising voice, his endlessly repeated spiel follow me across the room as I escape for the lav, the kitchen, the drinks cupboard.

I’m not sure which betting company he is shouting about, there are just so many of them, offering incredible odds and supposedly free bets. In the past six years, since the laws changed, TV betting adverts have increased by 600 per cent, all offering amazingly simple ways to lose money with just one tap on a smartphone.

The one I hate is the ad for BetVictor. The man who has been fronting it, appearing at windows or on roofs, who I assume is Victor, is just so slimy and horrible.

Betting firms are the ultimate football parasites, second in wealth only to kit manufacturers. They have perfected the capitalist’s art of using OPM (Other People’s Money). They’re not directly involved in football – say, in training or managing – yet they make millions off the back of its popularity. Many of the firms are based offshore in Gibraltar.

Football betting is not new. In the Fifties, my job every week at five o’clock was to sit beside my father’s bed, where he lay paralysed with MS, and write down the football results as they were read out on Sports Report. I had not to breathe, make silly remarks or guess the score. By the inflection in the announcer’s voice you could tell if it was an away win.

Earlier in the week I had filled in his Treble Chance on the Littlewoods pools. The “treble” part was because you had three chances: three points if the game you picked was a score draw, two for a goalless draw and one point for a home or away win. You chose eight games and had to reach 24 points, or as near as possible, then you were in the money.

“Not a damn sausage,” my father would say every week, once I’d marked and handed him back his predictions. He never did win a sausage.

Football pools began in the 1920s, the main ones being Littlewoods and Vernons, both based in Liverpool. They gave employment to thousands of bright young women who checked the results and sang in company choirs in their spare time. Each firm spent millions on advertising. In 1935, Littlewoods flew an aeroplane over London with a banner saying: Littlewoods Above All!

Postwar, they blossomed again, taking in £50m a year. The nation stopped at five on a Saturday to hear the scores, whether they were interested in football or not, hoping to get rich. BBC Sports Report began in 1948 with John Webster reading the results. James Alexander Gordon took over in 1974 – a voice soon familiar throughout the land.

These past few decades, football pools have been left behind, old-fashioned, low-tech, replaced by online betting using smartphones. The betting industry has totally rebooted itself. You can bet while the match is still on, trying to predict who will get the next goal, the next corner, the next throw-in. I made the last one up, but in theory you can bet instantly, on anything, at any time.

The soft sell is interesting. With the old football pools, we knew it was a remote flutter, hoping to make some money. Today the ads imply that betting on football somehow enhances the experience, adds to the enjoyment, involves you in the game itself, hence they show lads all together, drinking and laughing and putting on bets.

At the same time, punters are encouraged to do it responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly. Responsibly and respect are now two of the most meaningless words in the football language. People have been gambling, in some form, since the beginning, watching two raindrops drip down inside the cave, lying around in Roman bathhouses playing games. All they’ve done is to change the technology. You have to respect that.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war