Chasing Unicorns? Orwell, socialism and patriotism

“England has got to be true to herself”, a famous English socialist once wrote. “She is not being true to herself while the refugees who have sought our shores are penned up in concentration camps, and company directors work out subtle schemes to dodge their Excess Profits Tax”.

George Orwell typed these words in 1940, in the middle of the Blitz as German bombs were raining down. His short book, The Lion and the Unicorn: Socialism and the English Genius, has subsequently become the ur-text of a patriotic vision of socialism. Corbynism, it is claimed, fatally lacked this essential ingredient of popularity – indeed stamping on any tendencies in this direction. This was a major reason why it crashed and burnt in the 2019 election. Socialism still – in Orwell’s phrase – has not “really touched the heart of the English people”.

Keir Starmer, on the other hand, is determined to avoid such a fate, wrapping the Labour party (literally) in the Union Jack and signalling a deep emotional attachment to the monarchy. He even ordered in his MPs to abstain on a bill authorising the security services to commit murder and torture without legal repercussion – for fear of appearing ‘patriotically’ suspect.

Don’t sing ‘Rule Britannia’

But the interesting thing about The Lion and the Unicorn is that the patriotism it pays homage to is not the same patriotism that the Labour party in 2020 is seeking to identify with. Starmer’s conference speech was trailed to the media as rebranding Labour as the party of “flag, forces and family”. Blue Labour, the Labour faction which heralds ‘conservative socialism’, is committed to the triad of “family, faith and flag”. There is a subtle difference if you look carefully.

However, Orwell explicitly rejects the idea that the patriotism of the English working class revolves around these cornerstones. Its patriotism is “profound” but “the working man’s heart does not leap when he sees a Union Jack”. Rather, there is an ingrained hatred of war, militarism and uniforms, and – outside of war – a widespread refusal to join the army even in times of mass unemployment. “So deep does this feeling go” writes Orwell, “that for a hundred years past the officers of the British Army, in peace time, have always worn civilian clothes when off duty.”

In Orwell’s view, “all the boasting and flag-wagging, the ‘Rule Britannia’ stuff is done by small minorities”.

Of course, The Lion and the Unicorn was written nearly 80 years ago. Attitudes may have changed – witness the ubiquitous uniformed soldiers before kick-off at football matches and the pressure of conformity about poppy wearing. But Orwell made a crucial distinction between nationalism or jingoism and patriotism.

It is a similar story when it comes to religion or ‘faith’ as modern-day adherents like to call it. “The common people” says Orwell, are not puritanical and “without definite religious belief”. Though there is a “deep tinge” of Christian belief, in terms of organised religion, the Anglican Church is mainly the preserve of the landed gentry and the Nonconformist sects only appeal to minorities.

Defining patriotism

So what then is patriotism? According to Orwell, it is a purely defensive attitude and protective of a particular way of life. “It is bound up,” Orwell writes, “with solid breakfasts, gloomy Sundays, smoky towns and winding roads, green fields and red pillar-boxes.”

Mercifully he soon becomes less misty-eyed and then makes an astute point about English culture which, I believe, is still true decades later. The English – despite the contentedly defeatist attitude of much of the liberal-left which sought salvation, oddly, in the neoliberal European Union – are not irredeemably conservative, capitalist or right-wing. This fatalistic stance should have been exploded by the 2017 election in which a left-wing Labour party gained nearly 42% of the vote in England. But there is, Orwell says, a definitive privateness about English life:

The liberty of the individual is still believed in, almost as in the nineteenth century. But this has nothing to do with economic liberty, the right to exploit others for profit. It is the liberty to have a home of your own, to do what you like in your spare time, to choose your own amusements instead of having them chosen for you.

Undeniably, this feeling can be used to fuel a seemingly endless housing boom – rooted in the comfort induced by seeing the value of the house you own continually rising and in viewing your home as a haven against the world. But it can also be – and would be by a serious Left – utilized in the opposite cause. In a country where millions have scant security as private tenants, and are being evicted as we speak, and where wealthy individuals and businesses buy up hundreds of flats and houses for no other purpose than renting them or selling them on, “the liberty to have a home of your own”, but not necessarily one you are free to sell, is the kind of aspiration the Left should champion. In Marxist terms, we live in a world where ‘use value’ (the function of a house or flat to provide security, stability and shelter) has become the slave of ‘exchange value’ (seeing them as simply ‘units’ to make money from). That is why Orwell could proclaim a fervent belief in the ‘liberty of the individual’ but also advocate (in the political programme that accompanies The Lion and the Unicorn) the abolition of private land ownership in urban areas – and see no contradiction between the two.

Orwell the Red

Indeed, what is striking about Orwell ‘patriotic socialism’ is that the socialism involved is of the deepest red. The second half of The Lion and the Unicorn is devoted to espousing an “English Revolution” that would set free “the native genius of the English people”. Railways, banks, major industries and land would all be nationalised (Orwell recommends allowing private ownership of land of up to 15 acres in rural areas, but as seen above, would completely abolish private land ownership – and thus landlordism – in town areas), incomes would be restricted to a ten to one variation, the House of Lords abolished and private schools flooded with state-aided pupils or simply closed. Orwell even envisages the stock market being torn down!

However, it is interesting that despite Orwell’s intense anti-Communism, his economic beliefs do not seem vastly different in their fundamentals. Orwell defined himself explicitly as a “democratic socialist”, not a Communist, and clearly saw great danger in vesting political power in an all-seeing political party, but in economic terms, did not see any alternative to state socialism.  “From the moment that all productive goods have been declared the property of the State,” he writes, “the common people will feel, as they cannot feel now, that the State, is themselves.” Despite fighting in an anarchist/syndicalist revolution in Spain, and with a Trotskyist battalion, just four years previously Orwell seems to have imbibed none of their critique of state socialism, nor their advocacy – indeed living example of – workers’ control.

Nonetheless, by comparison with Orwellian socialism, Corbyn’s mellow social democracy appears – notwithstanding the hysteria it generated – quite tame. And Blue Labour, which might claim to be the inheritor in the Labour party of the Orwellian vision, seems oblivious to his decrying of the party’s “timid reformism”. In aligning with – at best tolerating – insipid centrist leaders like Starmer and Miliband there is an all too common wilful blindness to Orwell’s radical side.

Ashamed of their own country

But the incongruous thing – and probably a large reason Orwell is claimed by divergent political philosophies – is that he combines a frankly revolutionary socialism with unvarnished contempt for left-wing intellectuals. Orwell berates the “shallow leftism” of intellectuals and the “mechanically anti-British attitude” which was de rigueur on the radical left of the time. Much of the contempt stemmed from widespread left-wing support for Stalin and the Soviet Union. Orwell, by contrast, had seen Stalin’s inherent brutality – and well as his anti-revolutionary stance – at first hand during the Spanish Civil War. However, some of the critique transcends the circumstances of the time. In The Lion and the Unicorn and elsewhere (for example the essay ‘Notes on Nationalism’), Orwell develops the idea of “transferred nationalism” – taking all the emotions, affection and loyalty that might have been attached to your own country and simply directing them somewhere else – the Soviet Union, primarily, in his era. Despite its pretentions, this mental transference gets the protagonist no closer to “genuinely internationalist outlook”.

The same transference was in evidence during the EU referendum campaign and the endless negotiations that followed. Implicit in much of the liberal-left embrace of the Remain cause was the idea that virtually everything that made life bearable in England came from ‘civilised’ European influence, without which the country would descend into a corporate free-loading, racist hell-hole (ironically, in devoting most of their energies to taking down Jeremy Corbyn – and thus helping Boris Johnson – liberal Remainers ensured this vision would come to pass). The idea that a home-grown socialism was even possible was dismissively rejected as a contradiction in terms.

Thus, Europe (the institutions of the EU) became a purely benign endeavour, without conflict or desire, pitted against a country whose temporary, austerity-wreaking rulers (a trait they shared with the EU) were seen as representative of its eternal character. But genuine internationalism involves the recognition that all countries (including pan-governmental entities and repressed or colonised nations), have their own elites and plebeians, their own fractures between capital and labour, their own bigots and mobs, and their own interests which leaders will attempt to pursue.

Orwell, notwithstanding his unabashed patriotism, is aware of this. Thus, in his treatment of India (at the time part of the British Empire) he can recognise both that Britain, out of fear of trade competition and a desire to make rule easier, has artificially held back Indian development and that, partly as a consequence of British domination, the average Indian suffers most keenly at the hands of his fellow-countrymen. “The petty Indian capitalist exploits the town worker with the utmost ruthlessness,” notes Orwell, “the peasant lives from birth to death in the grip of the money-lender”. That kind of analysis seems strangely sophisticated today.

Return of the ‘drowsy years’

However, in one important way, Orwell’s essay is rooted in its own time; a time when Britain (and its Empire) seemed the only obstacle to the total domination of Nazi Germany. He likens Britain to a family with the wrong members in control – the dividend drawers, the landed class, the “functionless” owners of industry – who are holding back the intelligent and capable. The ruling class, in Orwell’s view, are not corrupt so much as “unteachable” and mired in self-deception. While Nazi Germany has the SS man, we have the rent collector.

War, said Orwell, was the greatest of all agents of change. It speeds up long-term processes and brings previously unacknowledged realities to the surface. In the midst of the Blitz, the “drowsy years”, as Orwell encapsulated the 1930s, were well and truly over and it was possible, necessary actually, to become both revolutionary and realistic.

But now the dividend drawers, the owners of industry, the tax evaders are back, if they ever really went away. Rent is the (anti)-lifeblood of the economy. Students are cajoled into returning to halls of residence so that they can pay rent to the owners. The spectre of city centres devoid of commuters petrifies the owners of commercial and residential properties who see their rental streams drying up before their eyes. Hedge fund managers and bankers are exempted from quarantine regulations because of their alleged contribution to the economy. The company directors of Orwell’s time who try and dodge “Excess Profits Tax” have been superseded by a multi-trillion dollar tax avoidance industry orchestrated by banks and green-lighted by governments.

The outright treachery that frightened Orwell has been replaced by ordinary corruption. The reverence for the impartiality of the law even if it is unjust, which Orwell believed characterised England, now pales before the staging of show trials of those who embarrass the rulers of the world. The “right to exploit others for profit” is deemed sacrosanct while a bill allowing MI5 agents to murder British citizens with impunity is waived through the House of Commons with the connivance of the Labour party. The drowsy years are back with a vengeance and nothing seems likely to jolt us back into attentiveness.

The Undrowned World

It is predicted that, because of the coronavirus pandemic, 2020 will be the first year since the Second World War that global GDP falls. Output in so-called ‘emerging markets’ is forecast to drop by 1.5%, the first decline since records began in 1951. Two billion people – a quarter of the world’s population – are living under lockdown of some kind. According to the former chief economist of the IMF, global trade and commodity prices are experiencing a 1930s-style collapse.

In ‘developed’ economies the picture is no different. There are 33 million unemployed people in the US, over a fifth of the workforce. The European Union is undergoing a more severe economic contraction that the US, “the deepest economic recession in its history” according to the European Commissioner for the economy. While Britain faces the worst economic recession for over three centuries.

And yet despite an economic downturn of unparalleled dimensions, the world is only just about on course to deliver the carbon emission reductions necessary to keep within 1.5 degrees of warming, the level identified by the IPPC as the ceiling above which massive crop failures, inundation of cities, huge refugee flows etc. become inevitable.

Carbon emissions, forecasts the International Energy Agency, are set to drop by just under 8% in 2020 (they were flat in 2019).This will be the largest ever fall in CO₂ emissions. By a fortuitous coincidence, according to the UK website, Carbon Brief:

Global emissions would need to fall by some 7.6% every year this decade – nearly 2,800MtCO2 in 2020 – in order to limit warming to less than 1.5C above pre-industrial temperatures

But this benevolent trajectory won’t last. Even if Boris Johnson’s reckless breaching of the lockdown is not imitated by other countries the lockdown will end, this year or next. Most people will eventually return to work even if many others won’t have jobs to go to and depression conditions – long-term low growth – ensue.

Lockdown cannot go on forever. It is true that economic recession need not – in fact often doesn’t – lead to higher mortality and suffering (recession followed by austerity does, however). Indeed, evidence suggests that people in Britain are welcoming the changes, such as cleaner air, that lockdown has produced. But the palpable benefits it produces – through the suspension of economic activity – indicates that this is not a normal economic crisis.

Invariably, in economic downturns, economic activity continues at a reduced level or the government steps into the breach, as it did in Great Depression America, and creates paid work. But in the coronavirus slump, whole economic sectors have been stopped in their tracks.  As Marxist economist, Michael Roberts, notes, this is not something that can continue in perpetuity, with governments – ideally – supplying the cash transfers to make sure no-one is destitute. In the absence of productive economic activity, governments cannot continue indefinitely inventing money based on debt – jobs will disappear and hyper-inflation will take hold.

In other words, the sustainable path the world has – quite by accident – found itself on, is not sustainable.

This is not an argument for scaling back the lockdown before it is safe to do so as is happening in the UK. Evidence from New York indicates that maybe a fifth of people have had the virus but herd immunity – the point at which the virus stops being transmitted – requires 60-70% of the population to have been exposed. Sending people back to work before that has occurred, or a vaccine developed, clearly risks many more people dying.

But it is an argument for acknowledging something. The fixation on economic growth that has, quite justifiably, been criticised as a form of insanity, masks something equally disturbing, and intractable – the dependence of the vast majority of people on that economic growth. Without it, under this economic system, jobs and livelihoods vanish.

This is quite apparent by looking at the UK, where over 16 million people have less than £100 in savings, but it is even more glaringly obvious by examining a country like India. In the country which was formerly the world’s fastest growing major economy, 90% of the workforce are thought to making a living in the ‘informal’ sector. Working as rickshaw pullers, baggage collectors and street vendors, amongst other occupations, these people are “daily wage earners” – if they don’t work, very soon they – and their families – don’t eat.

In the current circumstances, the need for direct cash transfers so people can survive – in India and the UK – is obvious. Indeed, basic income is not something exclusively for the developed world. Finland may have recently concluded that basic income improves mental and financial well-being, but the same was already true for India. A basic income pilot in the state of Madhya Pradesh between 2010 and 2013 reduced debt bondage and increased the confidence of the recipients.

But the world economy now confronts a quandary. In order to head off the most catastrophic effects of climate change, curtailment of economic activity – in addition to re-sourcing and clean technology – is necessary. The inadvertent coronavirus slump shows how radical it needs to be. But an indefinite lockdown – not even considering the restrictions on personal liberty – will have equally catastrophic economic effects, even if (a very big ‘if’ admittedly) people are supported through it by government spending.

Put simply, it is not possible to build a sustainable and equal society on top of an inactive capitalist economy. Something has to give. And building a just society on top of capitalism, albeit active capitalism, has been the default position of many supporters of basic income and modern monetary theorists.

Ultimately this is an argument for imagining what a ‘rational’ economy would look like. What would the contours of a post-capitalist economy be? How would it ensure that the dependence people have on economic growth taking place, and capitalism functioning well, is relieved so that the economy becomes genuinely sustainable? In dismantling the machine of capitalism, how would the social calamities of hyper-inflation and destitution be averted and how would public services be funded?

Is the world getting richer?

There’s a Twitter hashtag called #firstworldproblems. Your WiFi packs up, a fat person sits next to you on the train and talks into their phone for the entire journey, Waitrose runs out of Italian Prosciutto slices forcing you to buy ordinary ham. Mildly irritating events that appear all-consuming, prompting you to take to social media to vent your frustration and simultaneously display a mature self-awareness that your petty grievances are as nothing in the scheme of things.

For accuracy although not brevity, #firstworldproblems should be rebranded #firstworldproblemsofthereasonablyprivilegedindevelopedcountries. A tweet complaining, ‘Had to wait 1 ½ hours for baked beans & noodles at the food bank today! #firstworldproblems’, doesn’t sound right.

Is, though, economic stagnation and decline a ‘first world problem™’? The 2008 Global Financial Crisis had, as its name suggests, a world-wide impact but has been felt most severely in developed economies. The UK’s economic ‘recovery’ disappears into thin air when GDP is calculated per capita – ie per person, taking into account the increase in population over the last six years. Europe has suffered two recessions since 2008. The near zero interest rates in evidence throughout the developed world betray the fact that no real economic recovery has taken place. If it had, borrowing by companies to invest would have pushed the price of money – the interest rate – upwards. This hasn’t happened.

By contrast, consider China. The Chinese economy has slowed to a growth rate not seen since the last year of the 20^th century. But, at 6.8%, it still stands at a level that makes developed economies green with envy and represents a record of economic growth they have rarely equalled at any time in history. Per capita income in China grew fivefold between 1990 and 2010. In advanced economies, the story is the opposite. Between 2005 and 2014, real incomes were flat or declined for two-thirds of households in 25 rich economies.

Elsewhere, India, now the world’s seventh largest economy, has achieved an average of 7% annual GDP growth for the last two decades. The Turkish economy has grown by nearly 4% a year since 1999.  So is the malaise of weak economic growth, halting business investment and dwindling wealth limited to developed economies? Is it a first world problem?

Paul Mason, in his book Postcapitalism, marshals the evidence to suggest it is. According to him, the era of globalisation (the late 1980s onwards) has witnessed a palpable growth in the incomes of two-thirds of the world’s population. In terms of GDP per person, the developing world, he says, has grown by 404% since 1989, a spurt of economic expansion that outpaces even the post-Second World War boom, which was centred in Europe and the US.

In contrast, the people who have decidedly not benefited from globalisation live in the developed world. “They gained almost nothing from capitalism in the past twenty years,” Mason writes. “In fact some of them lost out.” The losers of globalisation include “black America, poor white Britain and much of the workforce of southern Europe”.

Branko Milanovic, a World Bank economist, argues that while the global 1% and the middle classes of so-called ‘emerging market’ economies have been the main beneficiaries of globalisation, they are not, by far, the only ones. The poor have also got decidedly less poor. “The surprise is that those at the bottom third of the global income distribution have also made significant gains, with real incomes rising between more than 40% and almost 70%,” he says. It is this rise in wealth at the bottom of the ‘global pyramid’, claims Milanovic, which is responsible for the startling fall in the ranks of the world’s ‘absolute poor’ over the last 20 years.

Milanovic does not spare the hype, calling this change, ‘probably the profoundest global reshuffle of people’s economic positions since the industrial revolution’.

Have the poor inherited a bit more of the earth?

But is the hype justified? Are we in the West largely blind to the material progress that has been made in other parts of the world? One reason, however, to remain sceptical of claims of mass global enrichment is that it rests heavily on poverty reduction in one country alone – China. Home to 1/5^th of the world’s population, China has been responsible for more than three quarters of global poverty reduction. Without China, whose internal political economy is configured very differently to the market triumphalism dominant in most of the world, the World Bank’s poverty figures would look markedly less impressive.

Another reason for distrust is that world GDP statistics don’t bear out the world-bestriding optimism. “The relative stagnation of the economy since the mid-1970s is a global phenomenon,” insists US Marxist economist Andrew Kliman. He argues that slowdown in economic growth that has taken place in the US since the 1970s is “somewhat less drastic” than that of the rest of the world (advanced and developing countries alike). After 1973, says Kliman, the growth rate collapsed by more than half in Africa, Latin America and the Caribbean, as well as in Europe and Japan. Remove China and India from the mix and the Asian growth rate shows a similarly sharp contraction.

But the claim that globalisation represents ‘the greatest economic event in human history’ does not rest on development since the 1970s but since the late 1980s and, in particular, the early 2000s - when Mason’s figures show growth as particularly marked. But even here Kliman dissents, arguing that “for the period since 2000, World Bank figures indicate that growth of real GDP per capita accelerated only minimally.” According to Kliman, world GDP per capita stood at 1.3% between 1990 and 2000 and at 1.6% between 2000 and 2008. Far from earth shattering and nothing like the 3.2% global growth that occurred in the decade between 1960 and 1970.

You can balk at the notion of using GDP growth as a surrogate for people’s average incomes. GDP growth per capita (per person) does reflect the reality better than bare GDP figures, as the UK’s experience shows, but it is far from perfect. If GDP represents national income, it offers no clue as to who, within the nation, receives that income. So a country with modest GDP, could be internally egalitarian and effective at reducing poverty. Left-leaning Latin American countries such as Uruguay, Bolivia, Venezuela and Ecuador may fall into this category. But GDP still gives a broad indication of how rich a country’s inhabitants are.

You might also have suspicions about the insights of an avowed anti-capitalist like Kliman. Consider then those of Ha-Joon Chang, an ‘institutional economist’ who believes capitalism to be the “best economic system humanity has invented”. According to Chang per capita income growth in the developing world stood at 3% in the 1960s and ‘70s. But it fell by nearly half, to 1.7%, for the two decades from 1980. Income growth did rise in the 2000s, says Chang, bringing the growth rate up to 2.6% for the entire 1980 to 2009 period. This is still, though, below the pre-1980s record, and much of that growth has depended on the commodity boom which Chinese economic growth hugely stimulated. With the Chinese slowdown, the commodity boom has ebbed as well. The South African economy, the 2^nd largest in Africa, is ‘in crisis’, the government there admits.

The growth rate for particular regions illustrates a downward trend, hardly commensurate with the greatest spurt of development in human history. Latin America, notes Chang, grew 3.1% in per capita terms in the 1960s and ‘70s. But between 1980 and 2009 at a rate of barely one-third that level – 1.1%. Per capita income growth in Sub-Saharan Africa was 1.6% in the 1960s and ‘70s but only reached 0.2% between 1980 and 2009. For many years in the 1980s and ‘90s African growth, under the tutelage of destructive Structural Adjustment Programmes, was actually negative. According to the NGO, Global Justice Now, in 2008 there were 562 million people living on less than $2 a day in Sub-Saharan Africa, a figure almost double 1981’s 288 million. The overall population of Africa has also increased since the early ‘80s, “but even proportionally, there has been almost no improvement in poverty rates in sub-Saharan Africa since 1981,” the NGO says.

Paul Mason claims that during the post-war boom capitalism suppressed the development of the global south and that “unequal trade relationships forced much of Latin America, all of Africa and most of Asia to adopt development models that led to super-profits for Western companies and poverty at home.” The coming of globalisation “changed all that”.

This is only partly true. Exploitation by the West intensified in the 1980s and ‘90s, and globalisation, for most countries, has not really remedied that disadvantage. So while some large non-western countries, specifically China and India, have grown spectacularly (although poverty reduction is much more marked in China), the great ‘global reshuffle’ is much less profound for most of the world’s population.