What would a Labour government mean?

There have now been two UK General Election opinion polls which place the Labour party at 40%, with the Conservatives just ahead. Admittedly these are by polling companies which weight more favourably to Labour than others do. It’s quite conceivable that when the election actually occurs in two days’ time, the Conservatives will emerge with a healthy majority. But it’s also possible that by some strange alchemy what was unthinkable a month ago actually comes to pass and the greatest upset in British political history happens.

So it’s worth examining what would be good about an unashamedly social democratic Labour government, where it would likely fail and why, when all is said and done, the mere whiff of a Corbyn-led Labour government is a once in a generation (or maybe once in a lifetime) opportunity that is worth straining every tendon in your body to realise.

What a Labour government would achieve

For more than forty years a seemingly unimpeachable neoliberal dogma has held sway in most corners of the world. That dogma holds that cutting tax rates for corporations and the wealthy will spur investment and economic growth. I call it a dogma for good reason, in that it’s utterly impervious to evidence. Economic growth and rates of investment were far higher the benighted social democratic decades of the 1960s and ‘70s. But the incessant march to cut corporate tax rates has blindly continued. According to the US-based Tax Foundation the worldwide average corporate tax rate declined from 30% in 2003 to 22.5% last year.

There is a flip side to this dogma. Because cutting high end tax rates strangles government revenue and balloons public debt (in the 1980s in America the arch conservative Ronald Reagan doubled public debt), it is usually accompanied by its unloved sibling – austerity. Austerity began in the 1990s under Bill Clinton in the US and was aggressively promoted by international organisations like the OECD and IMF. It was temporarily suspended during the financialised boom years of the early 2000s but returned with avengeance when that all turned to dust after 2008. Austerity was supposed to be a short, sharp shock in Britain but has now become ensconced as a permanent feature of the political landscape.

A Labour government would, for the first time in decades in the West, diverge from this political straitjacket. It would raise corporate tax rates to 26% and hike capital gains tax. It would increase public investment, fund the NHS properly and ditch austerity.

A Corbyn-led Labour government would also abandon the austerity playbook of disciplining those at the bottom of the pile – in the hope that such imposed realism trickles up through the rest of society. A Labour government is committed to ending the work capability assessment and the confetti spraying of benefit sanctions. With one in three workers in Britain suffering precarious employment conditions, it’s possible that a different attitude would take hold – one that doesn’t see workers as mere labour costs, to be treated and disposed of as quarterly profit forecasts dictate.

Where a Labour government might fail

There is however a Keynesian backdrop to Labour’s plans which, in truth, rings hollow. The rise in public investment, funnelled through a National Investment Bank, would substitute for moribund private investment which is at a 50 year low. This kind of public investment would create profit opportunities and lead to increased economic growth, so the thinking goes. Hence tax increases on the wealthy are not simply about fairness and redistribution but would have beneficial and lasting effects on the whole of society.  This is the entrepreneurial state in full bloom.

But if the lure of profit is what drives private investment can the state act as a surrogate when profit-making opportunities are not immediately apparent? Corporate investment is a much larger part of the economy than public investment, and if corporate investment refuses to budge, the state cannot take its place unless the government is willing to countenance a much larger role in the economy. And I don’t see that on Corbyn’s horizon. Hence the question of why private investment is so low needs to be asked.

And timing is crucial. It is nine years since the last recession and many economists warn that another is imminent. According to one non-mainstream economist, Steve Keen, ‘a capitalist economy can no better avoid another financial crisis than a dog can avoid picking up fleas’. If another crash hits, the centrepiece of Labour’s plans – the National Investment Bank – may become swiftly redundant as money is diverted into unemployment benefits and other ‘automatic stabilisers’. Though I would much rather that Corbyn be at the helm in the event of a downturn than the usual suspects. It’s possible, then, that emergency action may be aimed at helping ordinary people, not just banks and major shareholders.

However, despite these caveats, I still think that …

A Labour government now could be a major historical turning point

It’s now close to a decade since the financial crisis – the biggest economic downturn since the Great Depression of the ‘30s – hit. There have been two kinds of elitist political reactions since. One has been to oversee massive intervention in the economy in order to bail out those responsible and protect their financial assets through 12 trillion dollars’ worth of money creation. A race to the bottom has ensued to make sure the ‘wealth creators’ don’t feel scorned. For the vast majority, by contrast, this political dispensation has ordained the pain of austerity and laissez-faire capitalism. The other reaction has been to recognise the huge undercurrent of discontent but displace the wrath onto immigrants, other countries and ‘scroungers’.

Should Corbyn deny the Conservatives a majority on June the 8^th, it will be evidence that a palpably different path to those currently on offer has a reservoir of support. The mere fact that 35 or 40% of the public will have knowingly decided they want something different to the prescriptions decreed as inevitable by the mainstream media and governments across the world is something that cannot be erased. 

Corbyn may fail miserably. Or his government may turn out to be a crushing disappointment. Greece happened after all. Few left-wing governments have been successes. But now, of all times, we need to see for ourselves. And once something as disruptive as a Corbyn surge happens to a schlerotic political system such as this one, no matter what transpires subsequently, things never return entirely to the status quo. What happens on Thursday will have ramifications far beyond these shores.

Vote Labour.

The deformities of 21st century capitalism

In part one, I noted the strange anomaly that an ever more munificent corporate tax regime has resulted more and more frugal rates of investment by the private sector. Waving farewell to the relative high points of the 1960s and ‘70s, corporations have chosen to keep hold of a larger and larger proportion of their profits. Governments around the world have played the role of useful idiot, plying multinationals with multiple tax cuts, while pretending not to notice that the money given away almost never goes into production.

Especially in developed countries, says the United Nations Conference on Trade and Development (UNCTAD), corporations are now mainly using profits to pay out dividends or buy back their own shares, rather than investing in new plants or equipment. Or they are simply banking the profits, often in zero percent tax havens. It is estimated that corporations are sitting on $700 trillion worldwide.

This graph, from Chapter 5 of UNCTAD’s 2016 Trade & Development Report, illustrates just how extreme the fall in investment in the major economies has been over the last three decades:

The crucial concept here is the decline in ‘fixed capital formation’ – investment in tangible things like equipment, factories or new products. So-called ‘investment’ in financial instruments – just betting on a rise in the value of these assets – has grown exponentially.

In a remotely rational world, this outcome might have prompted a bit of a rethink on the part of governments. But, in keeping with the era of alternative facts, it has, in fact, inspired the realisation that these efforts to lighten the burden on corporate-land were, in retrospect, paltry and what is called for is a far more muscular approach to taxing cutting. The ‘love fest’ embodied by Donald Trump and Theresa May is leading the charge for a more reasonable levy on the world’s richest people. Where this will end is anyone’s guess. Probably in us sub-humans paying for the privilege of being exploited, except, of course, we’re doing that already.

What is eminently predictable is that if Britain and America set the pace by radically cutting rates of corporate taxation, other countries will feel obliged to follow suit for fear of appearing unattractive to roaming corporations. Ireland, with its corporate tax rate of 12.5%, may well be a harbinger of everybody’s future. Though Ireland will doubtless want to revise that rate downwards in an effort to retain its competitive advantage.

But for those of us keen on keeping our reality principle intact, there is another kind of realisation. That the mantra of austerity, of no money left, of ‘expansionary fiscal contraction’, is nothing more than an excuse for unnecessary suffering. There is plenty of money left, it’s just in the wrong hands, and, most importantly, is not being used. The Tax Justice Network estimates that there is up to $32 trillion lying idle in tax havens, equivalent to 10 to 15% of global wealth. US corporations alone – led by the likes of Google, Apple and Microsoft – have $2.1 trillion stockpiled overseas.

Interestingly, there is a law in America that penalises firms found to be hoarding cash. They have to pay 20% above the normal corporate tax rate. But since 1986, multinational companies have been exempt from this restriction. They can avoid all taxes on profit paid to affiliates, known as ‘passive foreign investment companies’, with no conditions on its (lack of) use. The result has been multi-trillion dollar cash mountain, untouched by the American government and not used for any productive investment.

Donald Trump is planning a ‘repatriation holiday’ for these multinationals – a discount tax rate of 10% if they bring it all back home. The narrative – as ever with Trump – is that this will create jobs. But the last time it was tried – in 2004 – it actually eliminated nearly 21,000 jobs, despite its proponents claiming it would create 660,000. The money was repatriated but was mainly used for mergers and acquisitions, the perfect rationale for streamlining workforces.

The alternative to Trump’s plan is obvious. Reinstate the pre-1986 penalty and properly tax the trillions of dollars siphoned overseas and doing precisely nothing. Apple alone has over $200 billion. The money could be used for …  just to pluck a few ideas out of the air, creating a single payer health care system, rebuilding infrastructure or instituting a basic income.

Other countries could follow the American lead, triggering a healthy race to the top, rather than the bottom, which is whether global tax competition has led us over the past 40 years. The adoption of such a policy would also have the attractive side effect of stealing the nationalist right’s thunder. Trump is, aside from the misogyny and immigration bans, relentlessly focusing on creating jobs and cajoling corporations into not moving to China. Apart from pointing out the glaring flaws in his plans (see above), the answer cannot be a centrist blank.

The Investment Dilemma

But this policy is, at best, half a solution – because it does not address why private sector investment is so feeble in the first place. If corporations could smell profit on the horizon, they wouldn’t need any encouragement to invest. They wouldn’t need the meaningless inducements of tax cuts or a regulatory cull.

We are, as some economists have noted, in the middle of depression. Global GDP rates are a pale shadow of what they were pre-2008, interest rates remain at rock bottom, companies shun investment and hoard money and global trade is running at less than a quarter of its pre-crisis rate. None of the 20 largest shipping container companies in the world are forecasting a profit.

An economy in such a parlous state clearly has effects. One of the most apparent is that businesses become obsessed with cost-cutting and reducing their overheads. They look to shore up their profit margins, rather than expand production. Part-time, zero hours and other flexible contracts have mushroomed in this environment. Good, stable jobs and adequate pensions rapidly become a memory of the capitalist golden age. Economic insecurity consciously becomes the order of the day.

There are also dire geo-political consequences. The word antisemitism dates back to 1879, not coincidentally in the midst of the long depression of the late 19^th century. The Great Depression of the 1930s ushered in Nazism and consolidated totalitarian rule in the Soviet Union. In our time, Trump is threatening trade war with China, which could easily escalate into actual war. Humanity, it was nice knowing you.

So to say that ending the capitalist depression is important is the understatement of the 21^st century. But, ignoring the legions of apologists for the system, there is no consensus as to the cause and therefore the way out.

The 21^st Century Depression

The most moderate of the critics – in the sense that they often (but not universally) believe that capitalism can be successfully reformed in the public interest – are the Left Keynesians. This is where you’ll find left-wing politicians like Jeremy Corbyn and Bernie Sanders.

Left Keynesians hone in on capitalism’s effective demand problem. Through perpetual competition, businesses are compelled to clamp down on costs, including wages – a process eased by the vanquishing of organised labour across the Western world in the 1980s and ‘90s. But, of course, workers, in their other incarnation, are also consumers.  So this is akin to cutting off your nose to spite your face. In economic terms, the gap between supply and demand grows dangerously wide. According to a report last summer, the real incomes of around 2/3rds of households in 25 advanced economies were flat or fell between 2005 and 2014.

“The roof might cave in,” American thinker David Schweickart wrote presciently in 2002. “A deep and enduring global depression is a real possibility.”

The obverse is also true. Well paying, stable jobs and pensions that allow consumption not just subsistence living to happen, ensure the equilibrium of the system.

But the difficulty in accepting waning demand as the ultimate cause of global depression is that consumerism – the motor of the economy in industrialised countries for many decades – has not really abated. Still, nine years after the 2008 crash and a ‘lost decade’ of wage (non) growth, consumer spending is the dominant force behind UK economic growth, responsible for 70% of economic activity. The endurance of consumer spending has been called ‘privatised Keynesianism’.

What is true is that this consumerism – founded on personal borrowing – is much more precarious than in the past. A rise in interest rates, as happened in the US in 2007, or a blip in unemployment could cause the roof to cave in once again. But ebbing demand is not, in itself, the problem. You could safely argue that demand would be stronger had wage growth kept pace with previous decades. But in no sense has consumer demand collapsed.

The other solution often proposed by Left Keynesians is that public investment should substitute for moribund private investment. In the UK, Corbyn is proposing £500 billion government spending over 10 years through a National Investment Bank. Former Greek finance minister Yanis Varoufakis wants a revitalised European Investment Bank to spearhead economic recovery and an end to austerity.

The argument is that when, in Keynes’ words, the ‘animal spirits’ of the private sector are depressed, government should fill the gap. In any case, as interest rates are so low, government borrowing is begging to happen and, most importantly, will ultimately pay for itself through higher economic growth and increased tax receipts.

The flaw is that no convincing reason is given as to why increased public investment will stimulate a revival of private investment. Japan, the world’s third largest economy, has stubbornly resisted the siren song of austerity and invested hugely in infrastructure – planning, in 2013, to outlay over $2 trillion over ten years, with the explicit aim of spurring growth. Yet Japan has not emerged from nearly three decades of anaemic economic performance and its economy actually shrank in the last quarter of 2015.

Interestingly, Japan illustrates how a country can combine huge private and public debt and masses of unused corporate profits. “Japan’s corporate savings glut is unique in scale,” says Martin Wolf of the FT. In common with their counterparts in other countries, Japanese corporations are making high profits and not investing. The country also has the highest debt levels in the world.

So, in order to understand why private investment refuses to budge in response to financial inducement, government investment or Trump-style cajoling, I believe you have to look elsewhere – into the realms of anti-capitalist economics:

The Marxist Dissidents

Karl Marx called the tendency of the rate of profit to fall “the most fundamental law of capitalism’. According to this theory, all profit derives from human labour but as mechanization inevitably spreads through the economy, replacing workers with machines, the overall rate of profit declines. Various counter-tendencies – such as paying workers more, finding new markets or using dirt cheap labour – continually operate and can for a long time eclipse the tendency of profit to fall. But, in the end, this law will reassert itself.

The relevance for my argument is that the decline in the rate of profit first makes itself felt through a slump in investment.  Expectation of profit is the motivation for all private sector investment, and if this expectation is dampened or vanishes, investment won’t happen, or will happen on a much smaller scale. A decline in investment is a sign that a recession or depression is impending.

There is disagreement among Marxists of this kind as to when the decline in the rate of profit started to kick in. Some, such as Andrew Kliman, trace it back to the first recession of the post-war period in 1973. Others, such as Michael Roberts, claim it was postponed until 1997. But all agree it is a fact of life now.

One way of temporarily offsetting the decline in the rate of profit is financial speculation, or a rise in ‘fictitious capital’, as Marx called it. “If the capitalists cannot make enough profit producing commodities, they will try making money betting on the stock exchange or buying various other forms of financial instruments,” says Roberts.

It is a conviction of Marxists of this ilk that capitalism can only be restored to health – rates of investment will rise to support a growing economy – if there is a mass destruction of ‘capital value’.  This means a spiral of bankruptcies and a huge rise in unemployment. The crash of 2008 didn’t involve such destruction; it was arrested and bailed-out. Andrew Kliman thinks we are thus doomed to experience a state of ‘not quite recession’. Another Marxian economist – Roberts – says we are in the midst of an ‘economic winter’, awaiting another crash which will finish the job of 2008.

Under this variant of Marxism (most Marxists reside in the Left Keynesian camp), there is no final apocalypse, no final and irrevocable crisis. The decline of profit is cyclical – if is allowed to play out, levels of profit are restored and the whole process (or ‘crap’ in Marx’s description) can begin afresh. However, given the geo-political events that would be triggered by another crash of capitalism, and one much deeper than 2008, one can assume that the apocalypse will be general, not economic, involving world war and mass physical, human destruction. Kliman thinks that the warlordism afflicting parts of Africa and Asia is likely to become the norm if capitalism persists. The only way to avoid such a scenario is to transcend a profit-driven economy.

However, there are other post-capitalist thinkers who don’t regard capitalism’s travails as cyclical. By contrast, they think its troubles stem from having reached the limits of its technological capacity. And having over-stayed its welcome, the defects of capitalism are now grossly outweighing its benefits.

The Capital Glut

Capitalism epitomises a strange combination of abundance and scarcity. Corporations hoard money, landowners and developers hoard land. But there is also, says economist Harry Shutt, an over-abundance of capital at the summit of society, perpetually seeking financial returns.

This ‘wall of money’ does not merely comprise the profits of corporations. It is also made up of pension funds (a vast number of occupational pensions have been invested on the stock market since the 1980s), insurance companies and other ‘investment’ firms seeking returns for their clients.

And it is in the nature of capital-ism, money used as capital, that the profit made is immediately recycled as new capital seeking fresh returns. “The inevitable consequence of maintaining a high return on the capital stock as a whole,” writes Shutt, “is that yet more investible funds will be generated for which outlets must be found.”

Others, such as the geographer David Harvey, have noted the same expansive logic. “To keep to a satisfactory growth rate right now would mean finding profitable opportunities for an extra $2 trillion compared to the ‘mere’ $6 billion that was needed in 1970,” he writes in Seventeen Contradictions and the End of Capitalism. “By the time 2030 rolls around, when estimates suggest the global economy should be worth more than $96 trillion, profitable investment opportunities of close to $3 trillion will be needed.”

But, to my knowledge, Shutt is unique in adding another dimension. The pressure to find new investment opportunities to satisfy the perpetually expanding horde of capital has been intensified by a steady decline, since the 1970s, in outlets for fixed investment – investment in physical things such as plants or equipment. Technological change means that capital-intensive industries are becoming rarer (as are labour-intensive factories but that is another story).

Last year’s UNCTAD report hinted at this process (see graph above).  In the leading developed economies (France, the USA, UK, Japan and Germany), the report reveals, fixed capital investment rates fell from over 20% GDP in 1990 to ‘historically low levels’ of less than 16 per cent in 2015.

In 2016, Bank of England Governor, Mark Carney, lamented ‘more savings chasing fewer investment opportunities’ – an acknowledgement that there is now ‘too much capital for capitalism to function’.

This pincer movement of declining fixed investment opportunities and an ever-growing mass of money clamouring to be used, means an incessant pressure for financial deregulation and privatisation. This money becomes, in Marx’s description, ‘fictitious capital’. The original rationale for privatisation – loss making state industries requiring the bracing discipline of private investment – has been quietly abandoned.  Profit-making state enterprises – particularly profit-making state enterprises – are now considered the most succulent fruit, as a means of supplying safe outlets for private investment.  In the language of international government bodies like the IMF, the OECD and the Bank of International Settlements, deregulation and privatisation are urgent ‘structural reforms.’

Privatised utilities are one essential source for private investment. Prices and investment strategies, such as London’s ‘Super Sewer’- are now set at a level guaranteeing a high return for private investors. Over-investment is mandatory and set, in Shutt’s words, “on the basis of a hypothetical market rate which effectively guarantees a stream of profit on whatever investment is allowed”.

“For decades,” says one Guardian economics commentator, “they [savers] have bullied governments to release assets for sale that can then be leased back at high returns. In the UK, this is why we have privatised utilities and a swath of other safe, previously state-owned, assets in private hands.”

Opening up public, taxpayer funded assets, such as the NHS, to private sector investment – whether at home or from countries like the US, is now an integral component of government policy. This wall of capital at the summit of society is the main reason why neoliberalism did not die in 2008, despite disparate predictions of its imminent demise.

So under this understanding of the present state of capitalism, its travails are not cyclical. Mass destruction of capital value will naturally abate the pressure on public assets for a while, but the intractable problems of technological advancement, which does not demand huge capital investment as it did in the past, will reassert themselves. Capitalism, as a system, has outlived its usefulness. Its deformities are now front and centre.

The spectacular and unheeded failure of corporate tax cuts

“When corporate tax bills are cut,” Oxfam remarked matter-of-factly earlier this month, “governments balance their books by reducing public spending or by raising taxes such as VAT, which fall disproportionately on poor people.”

A 0.8% cut in corporate taxation across the 35 OECD countries between 2007 and 2014, the charity pointed out, was accompanied by a 1.5% increase in the average VAT rate. VAT (or sales tax in America) is a flat ‘regressive’ tax. When you buy a packet of chocolate digestives you pay the same amount in tax as Richard Branson, Rupert Murdoch or Bill Gates. This switch is, quite simply, a huge redistribution of wealth from poor to rich.

But while corporation tax has been reduced across the world in response to economic crisis and has been heading resolutely southwards ever since the 1980s, we are about to see corporate tax cuts on monster truck tyres. Donald Trump wants a US corporate tax rate of 15% compared to the current 35%. Theresa May’s ambition meanwhile is for the lowest corporate tax rate in the G20 (lower than Trump’s America, in other words, which is in the G20). Britain’s corporate tax rate is 17%, 11 percentage points lower than when the Tories took office in 2010 (the previous Labour government also reduced it).

This is the other arms race. Except in this one, governments fight to give money away, not accrue weapons.

I could spend paragraphs fulminating about the injustice of continually cutting taxes for the richest people on the planet while the poorest shoulder all the pain of a policy designed to repair the damage caused by a financial crisis they weren’t responsible for. I could waste energy pointing out the bizarre logic of claiming to cut a government deficit by deliberating slashing your income. But I’ll content myself with one salient fact – corporate tax cuts are presented as invigorating the economy, freeing more money for investment and jobs. They’re about making Britain ‘super competitive’, proclaiming we’re open for business, increasing research and development spending blah, blah, blah. But on that score, they’re a spectacular failure. An unexpurgated flop.  But it’s a failure almost everybody manages not to notice.

The fallacy

Because corporation tax cuts do not stimulate investment. Quite the opposite.  According to economist Michael Burke the private sector investment ratio in Britain (gross fixed capital formation as a proportion of firms’ operating surplus,) peaked at 76% in 1975, dropping to just 53% in 2008. By 2012, it had plummeted to 42.9%. By a strange coincidence in 1975 corporation tax in Britain, at 52%, was the highest it’s ever been. That’s at the same time as the peak in the investment ratio. In 2008 the corporate tax rate was 28% and in 2012, 24%.

According to Burke, corporation tax cuts are based on the ‘fallacy’ that they will ‘spur investment’. The investment rate has fallen by around a third in Britain since 1970, the same period that has seen corporation tax cut by more than 50%.

Other countries paint a similar picture. The investment ratio in the US peaked in 1979 at 69%. In 2008 it was 56% and it declined further to 46% in 2012. In Canada, which has undergone three waves of corporate tax ‘reform’ since the ‘80s, business investment has fallen steadily for two decades. In the words of one economist, Michal Rozworski, “For every dollar earned before tax, only about 60 cents goes back into maintaining and expanding business capital.  Compare this to 80 or more cents just a decade ago.”

But the political class of the western countries refuses to see the obvious. Decades of evidence that corporate tax cuts don’t work in the sense of producing more private sector investment, are met with renewed determination to institute even more drastic reductions. Even business seems to be saying, 'enough is enough'.

As Burke points out, a dynamic capitalist economy could well produce an investment ratio of over 100%, financed by borrowing in the expectation of greater profits in the future. So 69% (the US 1979 peak) is nothing to write home about, and 46% is “a sign of enfeeblement”.

The cash mountain

One rather glaring indicator that a further corporate tax giveaway won’t generate new streams of investment is that the corporate sector is already sitting on a mountain of cash that it is not using. Worldwide, this unused mass of money was estimated at $7 trillion in 2014. This year non-financial US corporations alone were judged to have $1.68 trillion in spare cash. All this while ‘underinvesting’  is the order of the day and there is pressure from shareholders to increase capital expenditure.

Apart from sitting in bank accounts, where does this mountain of cash go? The answer is in increased dividends to already bloated shareholders (which may be other companies), in share buy backs so that the company, in stock market terms, appears much healthier than it actually is, or in acquiring other companies. So the corporate sector comes across very active (mergers and acquisitions are at an all-time high), but this fevered activity just worsens inequality and increases the value of assets while producing very little of worth to society. Actual investment – new products, new machinery, new workplaces – is frequently perceived as too risky.

One theory that may tentatively rear its head at this point is that there is a negative correlation between reduced corporate taxation and investment – in other words, higher corporate taxation (and it was much higher in previous decades) is actually responsible, in some little known way, for greater levels of investment. The anthropologist David Graeber goes some way down this path in his essay Of Flying Cars and the Declining Rate of Profit, suggesting that the heyday of corporate research in the 1950s and ‘60s was really the outcome of high rates of tax – companies preferred to divert money into research, investment and rising wages rather than seeing it appropriated by the government. When that environment was transformed in the tax cutting, deregulating ‘80s and ‘90s the incentive, so to speak, for research and investment vanished.

“In other words,” writes Graeber, “tax cuts and financial reforms had almost precisely the opposite effect as their proponents claimed they would.”

Apple won’t make those ‘darn computers’ in America

Donald Trump’s proposed tax holiday for US multinationals repatriating cash gives credence to what Graeber is saying. Prior to 1986, corporations had to pay a 15% tax penalty for hoarding cash. Under Ronald Reagan, though, multinationals were allowed to hold unlimited amounts of cash provided they did so overseas. This produced a huge influx of money into tax havens. Rather than reinstituting the penalty on squirrelling away profits in other countries, Trump is proposing reduced taxation on repatriated cash as a way of incentivizing investment in manufacturing. The last time this trick was tried (under George W Bush in 2004), more than 90% of the repatriated money was used for share buybacks, increased dividends and larger salaries for executives. Another example, if one were needed, of corporate tax cuts having an altogether different effect to the one advertised.

But I think we have to look further than Graeber’s implicit suggestion that higher corporate tax is integrally linked to higher levels of private investment. If corporations are actively preferring alternatives to investment, such as share buybacks, bigger dividends or hoarding cash, the question is why has investment become so unappealing? Why has capitalism, which presents itself as a the apogee of a vigorous system transforming the world for the better, become so feeble?

Part two to follow

EU Ref: What was it good for?

 This piece was originally published by the online magazine New Compass

As most of the world knows, the UK had a referendum on EU membership in June. What the rest of the world probably doesn’t know is how divisive the referendum and its aftermath were. It exposed deep divisions around class and race, revealed that half the country knows nothing about the life experiences of the other half, and holds them in contempt anyway and that a sizeable section of the population would like to repeat the exercise until they get the outcome they want. And towards the end of the campaign, an MP was assassinated by a Fascist.

But despite fomenting such profound fissures in British society, the referendum result (Leave won by 52% to 48%) has resolved nothing. Prominent Leave campaigners seem disappointed they won, the Conservative government is nowhere near triggering Article 50 (which begins the two-year process of Brexit) and calls for a second referendum regularly emanate from businessmen and politicians while others hold that Parliament should simply refuse to implement the result. The referendum has, at best, instituted a shaky truce which won’t last long.

The EU referendum was, in short, a terrible way to arrive at an important decision. It failed miserably to apply three vital principles of effective decision-making. The people making the decision did not have adequate information, were denied the chance for deliberation and critical reflection and lacked the power to implement the decision they arrived at.

The referendum was presented as the epitome of democracy. What could be more democratic than asking the people what they think, after all? But other forms of democracy exist that grant sovereignty to ordinary people while avoiding the ephemeral thrill of choosing which section of the elite you like the best. Experiments, such as citizen juries, participatory budgeting, random selection and assembly democracy devolve genuine power and result in more trusted and better judgements:

Deliberation and critical reflection

The EU referendum was a thoroughly mediated experience which relegated the public to the role of passive onlooker. The jousting of the protagonists was presented daily on TV screens and through the print and online media. For most of the campaign, the mainstream media presented the referendum as largely an internal Conservative party contest and revelled in farcical spectacles such as a confrontation of ‘In’ and ‘Out’ flotillas on the River Thames.

Other forms of democracy, however, rest on enabling conversation and deliberation to happen. Participatory Budgeting, for example, involves the election of recallable delegates by assemblies to determine how all or most of a municipality’s budget is spent. According to one academic, “the key ingredient is deliberation, the quality of the exchange of ideas.” Citizen juries spend days deliberating issues such as obesity, transport, electoral systems or work and as a result their findings are trusted by the public.

Thinkers such as Erich Fromm have pointed to the way the jury system, a democratic way of arriving at life-altering decisions, arrives at generally objective and reliable decisions precisely because it involves prolonged deliberation. The participants know their decision will have an immediate and lasting effect and treat it seriously as a result. The EU referendum, by contrast, resembled a two month long edition of ‘Judge Judy’.

Representation

One Leave campaigner, the writer Dreda Say Mitchell, described the political world which she temporarily gained entry to, as “largely one big boys’ club. And it’s for a very specific type of boy, at that.”

Referenda, like its kin Parliamentary government, merely amplifies the representation of people who have already carved out a media profile. The most vocal protagonists of the EU referendum – David Cameron, Boris Johnson, Nigel Farage and Michael Gove – all male and privately educated, illustrate the unrepresentativeness of representative government. The referendum made it plain to see how the upper middle classes dominate the terms of the debate in British politics.

By contrast, there is a growing use around the world of an ancient principle of democratic government – that of random selection. Aristotle thought democracy was characterised by selection by lot, so that citizens could ‘rule and be ruled in turn’, while elections were a sure sign of oligarchy. The modern form of selection by lot involves the creation of a mini-publics by randomly selecting willing participants with the aim of achieving demographic balance and the representation of all social groups. The new Icelandic Constitution of 2010 and the electoral system in British Colombia were both partly determined by randomly selected groups of citizens.

Aside from its inclusiveness, random selection or sortition has two other important effects. It detaches political influence from personal ambition as participants are not elected and only wield influence for a finite period. And it brings together people with divergent views and backgrounds, compelling them to take into account perspectives other than their own and those of people like them. In these senses, random selection represents the antithesis of the UK’s referendum experience.

Adequate information

The EU referendum excelled in generating a thick fog of misinformation. The Leave side peddled the fiction that Brexit would result in £350 billion in extra funds for the NHS every week and made immigration the centrepiece of their campaign, masking the fact they weren’t in fact promising to reduce immigration. And, aside from aping Nazi propaganda, the Leave side’s posters deliberately conflated the migrant crisis with EU membership.

The Remain side, meanwhile, predicted economic Armageddon and warned a ‘punishment budget’ comprising spending cuts and tax rises would inexorably follow Brexit. Allegedly neutral economic experts from the Bank of England, OECD and IMF were cited to underline the recklessness of voting Leave and its calamitous effect on GDP. But these experts were anything but neutral. The OECD had advised Britain to ‘press on with austerity’ on the eve of the 2015 General Election, while the Bank of England ensured making rich people richer and inflating share prices were the crucial elements of the way the state responded to economic collapse in 2008.

Both sides in the campaign also indulged in the daily fantasy that the UK was still a manufacturing nation and that the result would either ruin or invigorate the country’s trade. Politicians made endless visits, garbed in high vis vests and hard hats, to whatever manufacturing firms they could locate. In truth, the UK has undergone rampant deindustrialisation over the last 30 years and the country’s biggest export is financial services.

Other forms of democratic decision-making, however, are predicated upon understanding, not concealing, the issues at hand. A Citizen’s Jury established in Mali in January 2006 heard evidence for and against the introduction of the GM technology before concluding that GM crops should not be grown in the country. In the US state of Oregon a randomly selected panel of citizens convenes to scrutinise ‘ballot initiatives’, referendum proposals which are then put to the state’s voters at election time. They take evidence from advocates and policy experts before compiling a ‘Citizens’ Statement’ about the proposals, essentially a piece of distilled information which can be used by voters to make their choice.

Both these democratic techniques embody the proper attitude towards experts. Experts are never neutral and should not be treated as such. There is disagreement within every field of expertise and practitioners, whatever their claim to superior knowledge, need to be interrogated by citizens and their viewpoints translated into understandable language. Every branch of specialised authority, especially finance and economics, relies on establishing an air of mystery about its workings and judgements. The task of a genuine democracy is to dispel this.

Taking back control

A natural and justified objection to the examples of alternative democracy presented here is that they are mere adjuncts to the existing system and have no real power. They can advise but little else. So I think we need to establish ways that ‘alt democracy’ can transform society, not just make it appear more consensual. Appropriating the language of the Leave campaign in Britain, here are two ways we can ‘take back control’.

The first is through the public control of information. Beyond the racism and xenophobia, the UK’s referendum result indicated there was something very wrong with status quo despite the official narrative of growing GDP and record levels of employment. But this was an intuitive sense of anxiety and directed at the wrong target.

We need to shine an unflinching light on our economic system and dominant institutions. The writer, Dan Hind, advocates a system of ‘public commissioning’ with the expressed intention of taking the power of forming opinion and social depiction out of the hands of the mainstream media and giving it to the public. Through an annual budget of £80m, thousands of journalists and researchers would be employed to undertake long-term research. The public would vote for the subjects it wanted to see investigated and each round of voting would be preceded by open meetings. “National institutions, the EU and institutions like the International Monetary Fund, the World Bank, and the Bank of International Settlements would all become available to sustained scrutiny,” says Hind. This approach was piloted in Croatia in 2013.

The second way is through the public establishing an influence over private investment and government stimulus. Illustrating how little has changed over the last eight years, the Bank of England responded to the Brexit vote by spending £170 billion on shoring up the wealth of rich people. It revived its Quantitative Easing (QE) programme, bought the debt of companies it liked, and re-embarked on a £100m programme to encourage banks to lend out their money. QE, which buys debt securities from pension funds, insurance companies and ‘high net worth’ individuals, has succeeded in pushing up the prices of assets such as shares and property. But for those without assets it is meaningless.

A real way to ‘to take back control’ or in fact to establish it in the first place, would be for the public to decide how economic stimulus is spent. Through country-wide assemblies the public could determine how many new council homes are built, develop transport projects, found co-operatives or establish medical research laboratories.

If this democratic method of assigning state stimulus money was established, we could become more ambitious. The American mathematician and author of After Capitalism, David Schweickart, has proposed ‘social control of investment’:  a tax on the capital assets of all enterprises to be dispersed throughout the country on a per person basis, enabling assemblies to decide how a proportion of investment is spent. Apart from establishing a breach in the divine right of central and private banks and corporations to decide where and how investment takes place, such a new democratic initiative would impede the inexorable growth of mega-cities, such as London. Mega-cities are ecological nightmares, sucking in people and capital, while starving other regions of investment. If GDP is calculated per capita, London and the South East are the only regions of the UK to have recovered at all from the crash of 2008. This is one form of inequality, highlighted by the referendum, which needs urgent rectification.

But instead of these democratic alternatives, the UK has indulged in the illusory freedom of plebiscite democracy, which assiduously stokes dissatisfaction while failing to deliver anything more than the chimera of empowerment. Real democracy looks very different.