neoliberalism
Q and A with Jonathan White on In the Long Run: The Future as a Political Idea
We speak to Jonathan White about his new book, In the Long Run: The Future as a Political Idea, which investigates how changing political conceptions of the future have impacted societies from the birth of democracy to the present.
On Tuesday 30 January 2024 LSE staff, students, alumni and prospective students can attend a research showcase where Jonathan White will discuss the book.
In the Long Run: The Future as a Political Idea. Jonathan White. Profile Books. 2024.
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Q: What is the value of examining democracy in terms of its orientation towards, or relationship to, the future?
My book tries to show how beliefs about the future shape expectations of who should hold power, how it should be exercised, and to what ends. The emergence of modern democracy in Europe coincided with new ways of thinking about time. In the 18th and 19th centuries, emerging ideas of a future that could be different from the present and susceptible to influence helped to spur mass political participation. Movements of the left cast the future as the place of ideals, and “isms” such as socialism and liberalism provided the basis on which strangers could find common cause. Conversely, authoritarians have used the future differently to pacify the public and keep power out of its hands. Projecting democracy, prosperity and justice into the future is one way to seek acceptance of their absence in the present.
In the 18th and 19th centuries, emerging ideas of a future that could be different from the present and susceptible to influence helped to spur mass political participation.
Q: Why is an emphasis on continuation beyond the present essential to the operation of democracy?
Modern democracy is representative democracy, and that gives the future particular significance. Why should people accept the results of elections that go against them? “Losers’ consent” is generally said to rest on the notion that victories and defeats are temporary – there will always be another chance to contest power. The expected future acts as a resource for the acceptance of adversaries and of mediating institutions and procedures. One of today’s challenges is that this sense of continuation into the future is increasingly questioned. Problems of climate change, inequality, geopolitics and social change are widely viewed as so urgent and serious that they remove any scope for error – waiting for the “next time” is not enough. Every political battle starts to feel like the final battle, to be won at all costs. This year’s US presidential election will be fought in these terms and will make clear the stresses it puts on democracy.
One of today’s challenges is that this sense of continuation into the future is increasingly questioned. Problems of climate change, inequality, geopolitics and social change are widely viewed as so urgent and serious that they remove any scope for error
Q: You credit liberal economic thinkers like Adam Smith with “pushing back the temporal horizon”. How did their ideas around the free market treat the future?
In the early Enlightenment, defenders of free trade and commerce tended to emphasise the dividends that could be expected in the short term – peace and stability, for example, and access to goods. But the legitimacy of the market order would be hard to secure if it rested only on immediate benefits. What if conditions were harsh, or wealth was concentrated in the hands of the few? Pioneers of liberal economic thought such as Smith started to promote a longer perspective, allowing them to cite benefits that would need time to materialise, such as advances in efficiency, productivity and innovation. The future could also be invoked to indicate where present-day injustices would be ironed out. What we now know as “trickle-down” economics, in which returns for the rich are embraced on the idea that they will percolate down to the many, entails pointing to the future to defend the inequalities of the present. By invoking an extended timeframe, one can seek to rationalise a system that otherwise looks dysfunctional.
Pioneers of liberal economic thought such as Smith started to promote a longer perspective, allowing them to cite benefits that would need time to materialise, such as advances in efficiency, productivity and innovation.
Q: You cite the 20th-century ascendance of technocracy, of “ideas of the future as an object of calculation, best placed in the hands of experts”. How has this impacted democratic agency?
One way to think about the future is in terms of probabilities – what outcomes are most likely and how they can be prepared for. You find this outlook in business, and in government – especially in its more technocratic forms. It brings certain things with it. A focus on prediction and problem-solving often means focusing on a relatively near horizon – a few years, months, weeks or less – as where the future can be gauged with greatest certainty. And that in turn tends to go with a consciously pragmatic form of politics, less interested in the longer timescales needed for far-reaching change. In terms of the democratic implications, a focus on probabilities tends to elevate the role of experts – economists, for example – as those able to harness particular methods of projection such as statistics. If you turn the future into an object of calculation, it tends to favour elite modes of rule.
An emphasis on prediction is also something that has shaped how politics is covered in the media. Consider the use of opinion polls to narrate change – increasingly prominent from the 1930s onwards – which encourage a spectator’s perspective. Or consider a style of reporting quite common today, whereby a journalist talks about “what I’m hearing in Washington / Westminster / Brussels”. Its focus is on garnering clues about who seems likely to do what, and what they think others will do. The accent is less on the analysis of how things could be, or should be, or indeed currently are, and more on where they seem to be heading. It is news as managers or investors might want it – and politically that often amounts to an uncritical perspective.
Q: You discuss how desires to calculate the future through military forecasting took hold during the Cold War. What are the legacies of this in governmental politics today?
One of the main functions of military forecasting during the Cold War was to second-guess the actions of enemy states – where their weaknesses lay, where they might attack, and so on. That was true in both the West and the East. But forecasting was also applied to the control of populations at home, and not just with an eye to foreign policy. Fairly early on, national security experts started to get involved in public policy and urban planning – think of initiatives such as the “war on crime” launched by US President Lyndon Johnson in 1965. The outlook of the military forecaster began to transfer from the realm of geopolitics to public policy, counterinsurgency and the management of domestic protest, bringing methods of secrecy with it. Today’s forms of surveillance governance are the descendants of these forecasting techniques. And so too are conspiracy theories, which are often based on the idea that some have more knowledge of the future than they let on. Theories of 9/11 that suggest the US government saw the attack coming and deliberately let it happen, or even assisted it, are emblematic.
Q: Why is reducing social and economic inequality important to enable future-oriented political engagement from as many people as possible?
Democratic participation requires the capacity to see the present from the perspective of an imagined better future. But that presupposes the time and capacity for reflection. Those living in insecure conditions typically lack the resources and inclination to turn their eyes to the future. In exhausting jobs, the focus tends to be on getting through the day (or night): the present dominates the future. In precarious jobs or unemployment, people lack control of their lives: the future can look too unpredictable to bother with. Political engagement also depends on a sense that the problems encountered are shared with others. A workplace centred on short-term contracts on the contrary presents individuals with a constantly changing cast of peers. Other things can also undercut a sense of shared fate – personal debt, for instance, or algorithmic forms of scoring (eg, in insurance) that focus on the particularities of individual lives.
In exhausting jobs, the focus tends to be on getting through the day (or the night): the present dominates the future.
This is the sense in which the social and economic changes of the last few decades have fostered the privatisation of the future. The choices of political organisations like parties and movements are crucial in this context. They can either challenge these tendencies, developing that critical perspective on the present and a sense of shared fate – think eg, of a movement like the Debt Collective. Or they can reproduce these tendencies – eg, by treating voters as individuals who want only to maximise their own interests.
Q: What effects can crises have on how governments and citizens conceptualise and act on the future? Are current democratic political systems capable of addressing the climate crisis, the great future-oriented challenge of our time?
Crises tend to engender a sense of scarce time, and in the contemporary state that tends to bring a managerial approach to the fore. Emergencies are governed as one more problem of calculation, with a focus on concrete outcomes that can be traced from the present. The risk is that questions of justice and structural change get marginalised, as considerations that distract from the immediacy of the situation and open too many issues. Emergency government tends to prioritise short-term goals over long-term, and those which are concrete and quantifiable over those which are not.
Climate change too tends to be turned into a problem of calculation in policymaking circles. One sees it with the targets and deadlines invoked. By making net zero carbon emissions an overriding objective, authorities can marginalise considerations no less relevant to human wellbeing and environmental protection – biodiversity, global health and economic equality, for example. This is why some climate scholars see such methods as counterproductive. By emphasising a particular set of variables within a delimited timeframe, targets and deadlines get us thinking more about the near future, crowded with specificities, and less about the further horizon and the more general, incalculable goals that belong to it.
Taking the future seriously meant not hemming oneself in with false precision but setting out clear principles and organising in their pursuit.
The pitfalls of exactitude are something I try to highlight in the book. Not only is it hard to make predictions in a volatile world, but a focus on quantified targets can be counterproductive, since the facts at any moment can be bleak. As the socialists of the late 19th century understood, if the future was to be about radical change pursued over the long term, one could not afford to get lost in the details of the moment. Taking the future seriously meant not hemming oneself in with false precision but setting out clear principles and organising in their pursuit. I think this is a message that still applies. Climate change requires science and precision to grasp, but climate politics requires balancing this with a sense of uncertainty, open-endedness, and the possibility of radical change.
Note: This interview gives the views of the author, and not the position of the LSE Review of Books blog, or of the London School of Economics and Political Science. The interview was conducted by Anna D’Alton, Managing Editor of LSE Review of Books.
The ‘Treasury View’ makes no sense…
The Treasury View of ‘sound money’ has come under critisism from the Institute for Government (IoG). They say that: The Treasury’s outsized power creates problems for government and that Excessive power, rather than ‘orthodox’ thinking, is the main problem with the Treasury. ain’t that the truth? and also that: Future governments would benefit if brave... Read more
Inflation is always and eveywhere a conflict phenomenon
I was lured into a recent talk by The Monetary Policy Institute organised by Canadian professor Louis Philippe Rochon. As Stephanie Kelton had been invited and the title was, as above, “Inflation is always and everywhere a conflict phenominon”, I thought it was worth attending. So too did Steve Keen. The principal lecture was by... Read more
Refreshing candour for once
Apart from the rather offputting (to me) Edwardian Moustache this man speaks a lot of sense: Mind you, for what it is worth, I can actually tell him that his company’s inability to get electricity bills right means that I haven’t paid him for six months – and I still await the promised bills suitably... Read more
The one doctrine state
This is a highly interesting article by Abby Innes on her recent book, provocatively titled ‘Late Soviet Britain’. This is really remarkably good stuff: She has concluded that the neoliberal state is based on an axiom (where axiom indicates an idea that is blindly accepted without any proof – and as a basis for argument).... Read more
How tax theory in economics treats us
Drawing on a caricature of the work of Dani Rodrik, for most mainstream economists a model is just a model and there are many models. Norms only enter into the picture in terms of clearly stated and testable components of models and models provide a means to explore the scope of theory. In principle, policy advocacy is supported by model findings and as such mainstream economists tend to start from the position that their work has the rigour and clarity of quantitative science and that its policy implications carry the force of empirical evidence. Critics meanwhile tend to argue that mainstream economics struggles to come to terms with the implicit normativity of its frames of reference and with the ethics its concepts and foci presuppose but that its discourse elides. In particular, they often criticise the tacit politicisation of its theory and method.
In a recent paper in Journal of Economic Issues, I explore a particularly interesting variant on the problem of unexplored normativity, politicisation and its ethical consequences. Put simply, standard theory of tax evasion inadvertently treats everyone as a criminal. Moreover, while recent work on theory of “tax morale” seems different it is not as different as one might think. Both contribute to a world of biddable neoliberal subjects.
Briefly, the formative work on tax evasion is Michael Allingham and Agnar Sandmo’s 1972 article “Income Tax Evasion: A Theoretical Analysis,” and this treats the problem from the point of view of a standard utility function in which a rational economic agent must choose to pay tax or withhold payment (i.e. evade tax). This is essentially a calculative decision posed as optimisation in terms of the probability of being caught (via audit or informant etc.) and the size of any fine. But consider what thought process the theory is attributing to an economic agent:
- It is permissible to break the law.
- Breaking the law is what one would do if not prevented.
- One is motivated to break the law even if one does not do so.
To be clear, the intent is merely to use a standard economic concept – the utility function – to explore taxation and to establish that tax evasion can be conceived as rational behaviour. But the unintended outcome is the normalisation of criminal behaviour. We are all criminals except and insofar as a loss/gain calculation is made in terms of possible sanction and risk tolerance.
What is very obviously missing here is the role of socialisation, institutions and a sense of the collective and individual good i.e. that we might recognise that it is right to pay taxes and good for society that we do. To be fair to Allingham and Sandmo, there is a further consideration in terms of possible “reputation damage”, but this is developed in subsequent models via its pecuniary impact despite that it is a hard to estimate non-pecuniary variable. And obviously the nature of the argument regarding the role of tax can be looked at differently if one is an advocate of modern monetary theory. Yet it is still the case that longstanding mainstream theory inadvertently criminalises economic agency.
“Tax morale” takes a different point of view, rather than an implied stick it offers the carrot in the form of carefully framed communicative cues intended to make the economic agent decide to pay. This takes many forms but the dominant applied theoretical perspective is the behavioural economics of nudge theory. As Blair Fix notes, this tends to:
- Begin with the model rational utility-maximizing agent and claim this is false.
- Create a test of the falsity of the model agent and confirm that it is false.
- Keep the model agent as a benchmark and label the behaviour isolated in the test a “bias.”
- Repeat the process for a new context of behaviour.
There are numerous criticisms of the limited nature of this approach. For our purpose, however, the main problem is that applications via nudging of manipulation of “bias” – the process of intervention – treat its subjects as a collection of feelings and behaviours that can be isolated and triggered. There is no moral economy here of the kind explored by Andrew Sayer. As such, theory of tax behaviour is not focused on addressing its subjects as fully conceived ethical beings who can be persuaded to a position in a deliberative sense. Economics does nothing to address the meta-trends or direction of travel of its times – there is no recognition of tax justice. Rather the technical skillset and concerns of economists inadvertently contribute to the production and reproduction of passive neoliberal subjects. Arguably, this reproduction is itself imbricated with other processes – corporate tax avoidance and tax competition, deployment of Laffer Theorem style argument and legitimations, as well as, more broadly, strategies in “global wealth chains”, particular kinds of financialization and trends in technology of work.
To teach the economics of tax theory then, is a little like teaching mainstream economic theory of climate, it is to teach complacency.
The post How tax theory in economics treats us appeared first on Progress in Political Economy (PPE).
An MEP that speaks for all of us..
This is something that needs highlighting because life with a neoliberal paradigm gives us mental health problems – just look at the Post Office scandal as a start. That is why I disagree with Labour’s idea to put mental health professionals in every school. I suggest that children and their parents are not generally themselves... Read more
Legislating to overrule judicial decisions is highly dangerous for democracy
In law there is a presumption of accuracy and reliability from computers and their systems. Hence Post Office Horizon is considered accurate and true without precise evidence to the contrary. Given that any contrary evidence will likely be the computer’s own – this is nigh on impossible. One might have thought that there is indeed... Read more
Homelands: A Personal History of Europe – review
In Homelands: A Personal History of Europe, Timothy Garton Ash reflects on European history and political transformation from the mid-20th century to the present. Deftly interweaving analysis with personal narratives, Garton Ash offers a compelling exploration of recent European history and how its lessons can help us navigate today’s challenges, writes Mario Clemens.
Homelands: A Personal History of Europe. Timothy Garton Ash. The Bodley Head. 2023.
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Almost ten years ago, I heard the then-German Foreign Minister (and current Federal President) Frank-Walter Steinmeier say that we have to prepare ourselves for the fact that in the near future, crises will become the norm. What sounded like a somewhat eccentric assessment now appears to be an apt description of our reality, including in Europe. How did we get here?
As Timothy Garton Ash argues in Homelands: A Personal History of Europe, Western Liberals made the mistake of relying on the unfounded assumption that history would simply continue to go their way. Post-cold-war-liberals failed, for example, to care enough about economic equality (237) and thus allowed Liberalism to make way for its ugly twin, Neoliberalism.
Western Liberals made the mistake of relying on the unfounded assumption that history would simply continue to go their way.
Whether we want to understand Islamist Terrorism, the rise of European right-wing populism, or Russia’s revanchist turn, in each case we find helpful hints in recent European history. What makes Garton Ash the ideal guide through the “history of the present” is his three-dimensional experience: that of a historian, a widely travelled and prominent journalist and a politically active intellectual.
What makes Garton Ash the ideal guide through the “history of the present” is his three-dimensional experience: that of a historian, a widely travelled and prominent journalist and a politically active intellectual.
Garton Ash started travelling across Europe fresh out of school, “working on a converted troopship, the SS Nevada, carrying British schoolchildren around the Mediterranean” (27). Aged 18, he was already keeping a journal on what he saw, heard and read.
He nurtured that journalistic impulse and soon merged it with a more active political one, eventually becoming the “engaged observer” (Raymond Aron) that he desired to be. In the early 1980s, he sat with workers and intellectuals in the Gdańsk Shipyard, where the Polish Solidarity movement (Solidarność) emerged. Later in the 1980s, he befriended Václav Havel, the Czech intellectual dissident and eventual President. Garton Ash chronicled and participated in the movement led by Havel, which successfully achieved the peaceful transition of Czechoslovakia from one-party communist rule to democracy. Since then, Garton Ash has consistently enjoyed privileged access to key political figures, such as Helmut Kohl, Madeleine Albright, Tony Blair and Aung San Suu Kyi. Simultaneously, he has maintained contact with so-called ordinary people. All the while, he has preserved the necessary distance intellectuals require to do their job, which in his view “is to seek the truth, and to speak truth to power” (173). His training as a historian, provides him with a broader perspective, which, in Homelands, allows him to arrange individual scenes and observations into an encompassing, convincing narrative.
Garton Ash has published several books focusing on particular themes, such as free speech, and events, such as the peaceful revolutions of 1989. In addition, he has published two books containing collected articles that cover a decade each. History of the Present: Essays, Sketches, and Dispatches from Europe in the 1990s and Facts are Subversive: Political Writing from a Decade without a Name, which covers the timespan between 2000 and 2010. Homelands now not only covers a larger timespan, the “overlapping timeframes of post-war and post-wall” (xi) – 1945 and 1989 to the present – but the chapters are also more tightly linked as had been possible in books that were based on previous publications.
By the second decade of the twenty-first century we had, for the first time ever, a generation of Europeans who had known nothing but a peaceful, free Europe consisting mainly of liberal democracies.
“Freedom and Europe” says Garton Ash, are “the two political causes closest to my heart” (xi), and he had the good fortune to witness a period where freedom was expanding within Europe. Now that history seems to be running in reverse gear, he worries that this new generation don’t quite realise what’s at stake: “By the second decade of the twenty-first century we had, for the first time ever, a generation of Europeans who had known nothing but a peaceful, free Europe consisting mainly of liberal democracies. Unsurprisingly, they tend to take it for granted’ (23-24).
Thus, one critical aim motivating Homelands is to convey to a younger generation what has been achieved by the “Europe-builders,” men and women who have been motivated by what Garton Ash calls the “memory machine,” the vivid memory of the hell Europe had turned itself into during its modern-day Thirty Years War (21-22). While nothing can equal this “direct personal memory,” he argues that there are other ways “in which knowledge of things past can be transmitted” – via literature, for instance, but also through history (24), especially when written well.
A gifted stylist, Garton Ash makes history come alive by telling the stories of individuals
A gifted stylist, Garton Ash makes history come alive by telling the stories of individuals, for instance, that of his East German friend, the pastor Werner Krätschell. On Thursday evening, 9 November 1989, Werner had just come home from the evening church service in East Berlin. When his elder daughter Tanja and her friend Astrid confirmed the rumour that the frontier to West Berlin was apparently open, Werner decided to see for himself. Taking Tanja and Astrid with him, he drove to the border crossing at Bornholmer Strasse. Like in a trance, he saw the frontier guard opening the first barrier. Next, he got a stamp on his passport – “invalid”. “‘But I can come back?’ – ‘No, you have to emigrate and are not allowed to re-enter,’” the border guard replied. Horrified because his two younger children were sleeping in the vicarage, “Werner did a U-turn inside the frontier crossing and prepared to head home. Then he heard another frontier guard tell a colleague that the order had changed: ‘They’re allowed back.’ So he did another U-turn, to point his yellow Wartburg again towards the West” (146).
History, written in this way, “as experienced by individual people and exemplified by their stories” (xiii), may indeed help us to “learn from the past without having to go through it all again ourselves” (24).
Though he emphasises the wealth, freedom and peace in late 20th-century Europe, Garton Ash also reminds us that post-war European history, even its “post-wall” period, is not an unqualified success story.
Though he emphasises the wealth, freedom and peace in late 20th-century Europe, Garton Ash also reminds us that post-war European history, even its “post-wall” period, is not an unqualified success story. Notably, right after the Cold War, there were the hot wars accompanying the dissolution of Yugoslavia. He regards the fact that the rest of Europe “permitted this ten-year return to hell” as “a terrible stain on what was otherwise one of the most hopeful periods of European history” (187).
Garton Ash is equally alert to the danger of letting one’s enthusiasm for Europe’s post-war achievements turn into self-righteousness. “That post-war Europe abjured and abhorred war would have been surprising news to the many parts of the world, from Vietnam to Kenya and Angola to Algeria, where European states continued to fight brutal wars in an attempt to hang on to their colonies” (327).
While such warnings qualify and differentiate Homelands’ central message – that today’s Europeans have much to lose – they do not reverse it. But knowing that one is bound to lose a lot can also have a paralysing effect, as many of my generation currently experience. Here again, history can help: to understand our present, we need to know what brought us here. Garton Ash is convinced that we can learn from history; he, for instance, claims that the rest of Europe should “learn the lessons of Brexit” (279).
Those who seek orientation through a better understanding of the past should turn to this extraordinary, eminently readable exploration of recent European history.
Homelands: A Personal History of Europe perfectly complements Tony Judt’s extensive Postwar (published in 2005). While Judt’s work offers a detailed and systematic account of European history after 1945, Garton Ash’s book seamlessly blends personal narratives, insightful analysis, and astute critique. Those who seek orientation through a better understanding of the past should turn to this extraordinary, eminently readable exploration of recent European history.
This post gives the views of the author, and not the position of the LSE Review of Books blog, or of the London School of Economics and Political Science. The LSE RB blog may receive a small commission if you choose to make a purchase through the above Amazon affiliate link. This is entirely independent of the coverage of the book on LSE Review of Books.
Image Credit: struvictory on Shutterstock.
Neoliberalism’s idea is to shift costs to people while underinvesting and ignoring that government creates money
I think that this might be a good working definition of neoliberalism. It goes together with the idea that – so personally inadequate, uncertain and unconfident are the supposedly best people in society – that they consider, in spite of their power and wealth, that they can be safely certain of flourishing only when both... Read more