Where's the beef? The Argentinian capital was once courted by British investors
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The lost colony

Buenos Aires is home to ghosts from British history past and present.

My Anglo-Argentinian boss at the Buenos Aires Herald, Andrew Graham-Yooll, used to call the city where we worked "the forgotten colony", referring to the amnesia on the Anglo side. How, he asked, could all those years of investment, railway-building and trading in Angus beef be so insignificant to Britain's collective memory?

As I head out of my hotel and along the calle Reconquista on a damp Sunday, parts of the city look more like an abandoned colony.

The Retiro railway station, built a century ago with girders from Francis Morton & Co of Liverpool, is dilapidated. The Richmond, once the smartest café on calle Florida, has been boarded up for demolition. Its most celebrated habitué was Jorge Luis Borges, a writer so unrepentantly anglophiliac that, when composing his verses in Spanish, he used English word order to facilitate translation.

The former branch of Harrods on the same street is in a ruinous state. When I lived in the Argentinian capital between 1991 and 2001, there were perennial rumours that the store would be reopened; but it lurks there, doomed for the wrecking ball, an entire city block full of dark shadows.

The one building that looks intact is the Torre de los Ingleses, or English Tower, a replica of Big Ben gifted to the city by British expats in 1910 for the centenary of the wars of independence. The tower was renamed the Torre Monumental after the 1982 war. Facing it is the august black marble Malvinas war memorial where, a week before my visit, a French photographer was stabbed to death while taking pictures.

The 30th anniversary of the invasion of the Falklands feels different from earlier ones. The media are following President Cristina Fernández de Kirchner's populist lead in making as much fuss as possible. Like her late husband, the former president Néstor Kirchner, she is an expert rabble-rouser and the oil question gives her ammunition. But she is also a classic Perónist, relying on the votes of the "shirtless ones". The decay I see in the city is not confined to the vestiges of Englishness; modern-day Buenos Aires would like to be a cool, cosmopolitan city but it is run as a vast provincial shanty town.

I go with my old friend Mariano for a few beers at El Británico bar in San Telmo. Like many Argentinians, Mariano is an Anglophile, of sorts. His particular passion is late-Seventies and Eighties British punk, new wave and ska: the music that I grew up with. Mariano dislikes "la presidenta" because he loves culture and loathes jingoism.

“It's ridiculous," he says. "Argentinians love speaking English, love London and love football, which you gave us. When the English brought the first balls, they were deflated and everyone thought they were hats."

There's a football match showing on a TV in the corner. Some fans have strung up a banner screaming "Inglaterra! La concha de tu madre!", which translates (politely) as "England! Your mother's private parts!".

“Look at the name of the team they support," Mariano says. "It's Newell's Old Boys. You can't get more English than that."

Claim to fame

For Mariano, music is the only useful tool of diplomacy. "Last week, Morrissey was here. Buenos Aires went crazy. Next week it's Roger Waters, playing nine gigs at the Monumental [the city's biggest stadium, seating more than 65,000], and he's an old fart."

Towards the end of my trip I stay at an estancia outside the city. Over dinner, Guillermo, the manager of the estate, tells me his brother-in-law is a Malvinas veteran and asks if I'd like to meet him. The next day I have tea with Juan Casanegra, the veteran. "They sent me from a base near the beach in Mar del Plata to the Falklands ten days after I was drafted," he says. "I didn't know how to hold a gun, and they put me in a battalion positioning anti-aircraft guns at Stanley Airport. We learned how to lie down when the Vulcan bombers came over."

In spite of the trauma of this experience, Juan says he feels neither anger nor bitterness. "I'm not saying the islands belong to the British, but we lost the war and we should be better losers. I also think politicians who politicise the conflict are wrong. Because Néstor Kirchner gave veterans a US$2,000-a-month pension, many of those who didn't get sent to the island are trying to claim it. They never fought in the Falklands; they weren't there."

Juan says he can't give his usual anniversary talks in schools this year because the political atmosphere is too heated. "It wouldn't be safe to say what I feel right now."

He is educated, dignified and not nationalistic at all, but he surprises me when he says he wishes another invasion had been won by the British. "You know the English tried to take Buenos Aires in 1806 and 1807? Well, I wish they had. We'd be better off if Argentina was English. We wouldn't be in the mess we are in."

For two decades, I've been hearing this remark, but it's the first time I've ever heard it from a Malvinas veteran.

Chris Moss is the travel and books editor of Time Out. His "Patagonia: a Cultural History" is published by Signal Books (£12)

This article first appeared in the 02 April 2012 issue of the New Statesman, France is my enemy

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The New Times: Brexit, globalisation, the crisis in Labour and the future of the left

With essays by David Miliband, Paul Mason, John Harris, Lisa Nandy, Vince Cable and more.

Once again the “new times” are associated with the ascendancy of the right. The financial crash of 2007-2008 – and the Great Recession and sovereign debt crises that were a consequence of it – were meant to have marked the end of an era of runaway “turbocapitalism”. It never came close to happening. The crash was a crisis of capitalism but not the crisis of capitalism. As Lenin observed, there is “no such thing as an absolutely hopeless situation” for capitalism, and so we discovered again. Instead, the greatest burden of the period of fiscal retrenchment that followed the crash was carried by the poorest in society, those most directly affected by austerity, and this in turn has contributed to a deepening distrust of elites and a wider crisis of governance.

Where are we now and in which direction are we heading?

Some of the contributors to this special issue believe that we have reached the end of the “neoliberal” era. I am more sceptical. In any event, the end of neoliberalism, however you define it, will not lead to a social-democratic revival: it looks as if, in many Western countries, we are entering an age in which centre-left parties cannot form ruling majorities, having leaked support to nationalists, populists and more radical alternatives.

Certainly the British Labour Party, riven by a war between its parliamentary representatives and much of its membership, is in a critical condition. At the same time, Jeremy Corbyn’s leadership has inspired a remarkable re-engagement with left-wing politics, even as his party slumps in the polls. His own views may seem frozen in time, but hundreds of thousands of people, many of them young graduates, have responded to his anti-austerity rhetoric, his candour and his shambolic, unspun style.

The EU referendum, in which as much as one-third of Labour supporters voted for Brexit, exposed another chasm in Labour – this time between educated metropolitan liberals and the more socially conservative white working class on whose loyalty the party has long depended. This no longer looks like a viable election-winning coalition, especially after the collapse of Labour in Scotland and the concomitant rise of nationalism in England.

In Marxism Today’s “New Times” issue of October 1988, Stuart Hall wrote: “The left seems not just displaced by Thatcherism, but disabled, flattened, becalmed by the very prospect of change; afraid of rooting itself in ‘the new’ and unable to make the leap of imagination required to engage the future.” Something similar could be said of the left today as it confronts Brexit, the disunities within the United Kingdom, and, in Theresa May, a prime minister who has indicated that she might be prepared to break with the orthodoxies of the past three decades.

The Labour leadership contest between Corbyn and Owen Smith was largely an exercise in nostalgia, both candidates seeking to revive policies that defined an era of mass production and working-class solidarity when Labour was strong. On matters such as immigration, digital disruption, the new gig economy or the power of networks, they had little to say. They proposed a politics of opposition – against austerity, against grammar schools. But what were they for? Neither man seemed capable of embracing the “leading edge of change” or of making the imaginative leap necessary to engage the future.

So is there a politics of the left that will allow us to ride with the currents of these turbulent “new times” and thus shape rather than be flattened by them? Over the next 34 pages 18 writers, offering many perspectives, attempt to answer this and related questions as they analyse the forces shaping a world in which power is shifting to the East, wars rage unchecked in the Middle East, refugees drown en masse in the Mediterranean, technology is outstripping our capacity to understand it, and globalisation begins to fragment.

— Jason Cowley, Editor 

Tom Kibasi on what the left fails to see

Philip Collins on why it's time for Labour to end its crisis

John Harris on why Labour is losing its heartland

Lisa Nandy on how Labour has been halted and hollowed out

David Runciman on networks and the digital revolution

John Gray on why the right, not the left, has grasped the new times

Mariana Mazzucato on why it's time for progressives to rethink capitalism

Robert Ford on why the left must reckon with the anger of those left behind

Ros Wynne-Jones on the people who need a Labour government most

Gary Gerstle on Corbyn, Sanders and the populist surge

Nick Pearce on why the left is haunted by the ghosts of the 1930s

Paul Mason on why the left must be ready to cause a commotion

Neal Lawson on what the new, 21st-century left needs now

Charles Leadbeater explains why we are all existentialists now

John Bew mourns the lost left

Marc Stears on why democracy is a long, hard, slow business

Vince Cable on how a financial crisis empowered the right

David Miliband on why the left needs to move forward, not back

This article first appeared in the 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times