Revisiting the predictions

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A little over two years ago, I noted some comments on the Commission set up by the Welsh Government to consider the constitutional future of Wales, predicting the likely outcome. In the light of the report which the Commission has now produced, it’s worth reflecting how accurate or fair those predictions were. Some have stood the test of time rather better than others, and, on the whole, the report is rather better than I expected. Of the six points I noted at the time, points c, d, and e have been broadly reflected in the report. It’s (pleasantly) surprising to see such a clear rejection of the federal option, contrary to my expectation in point f. Federalism has always been a very silly idea, depending as it does on a completely absent desire for change within England, but it’s a dead horse that has been so well and truly flogged by some in the Labour Party that I assumed that a commission set up by Labour would give it more credibility than it ever deserved. Whilst the data presented certainly does reflect my prediction a, it’s impossible to argue with the data, and it isn’t used as an obstacle to independence in principle. Indeed, in declaring that independence is a viable option (depending on one’s values and priorities) the commission went much further than I expected it to. It is, though, point b of my original predictions (“Wales is, in any event, not strong enough economically to be an independent country”) on which I will concentrate.

It's definitely not what they said, although it’s strongly implied in the idea that there are more risks associated with independence than with other options. But the extent to which that is true is highly debateable. If Wales were to vote for independence tomorrow and become independent on Wednesday, then it is absolutely correct to argue that the risks would be very much higher than the risk of remaining in the status quo – and that would probably be true for some years to come. That isn’t, though, a realistic scenario. There will be no referendum on independence at least until there is a majority in the Senedd in favour of holding such a referendum – and that, sadly, is not looking at all likely for a minimum of two Senedd elections, taking us to an earliest date of 2031. There would probably be another year at least before holding a vote, giving us eight years for parties favouring independence to spell out more clearly the implications as they see them before we get to vote. Given the need to negotiate the details and set up a whole range of institutions and processes in Wales, the full transfer of powers wouldn’t happen for some time after the vote; to achieve a smooth transfer my own expectation would be a period of three to five years, making independence day sometime between 2035 and 2037 at the earliest. None of that does away with the risks of independence – of course there are risks – but it does mean that we need to compare those risks not with the status quo as it is today, but with wherever the status quo leaves us 11 or more years from today.

There is a natural human tendency to believe that the status quo will carry on for ever. It’s an implicit assumption that we all make on a daily basis in deciding what we’re going to do and when, even for planning some years ahead. But Newton’s First Law of Motion tells us that things will only stay the same for as long as no force acts on events, and that is a wholly unrealistic assumption. It’s not just pandemics and wars that change things; even on a more mundane level, who would seriously have predicted that government in the UK would degenerate into utter chaos and incompetence as quickly as it has since 2015, a mere eight years ago? Economic forecasts, like weather forecasts, are rarely correct very far in advance. My basic point is that the undoubted uncertainties and risks associated with independence may not be so quantitatively different from those associated with sticking to the status quo, even if they’re apparently easier to identify. I don’t doubt that opponents of independence will use the commission’s words about risks and uncertainties to justify their stance, but independentistas should not be afraid of highlighting the uncertainties and risks associated with not seeking independence. As the commission points out, ultimately it boils down to a question of values and priorities. And that’s a battlefield on which independentistas should feel very confident in fighting.

Understanding risk

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One of the reasons why ruling classes remain in power – at almost all times and in almost all places – is that they are good at deflecting blame. One of the most obvious recent examples is the way in which so many have fallen for the lie that housing shortages or NHS waiting lists are the fault of immigrants rather than being indicative of a systemic failure by successive governments to properly provide for the population of the country. Another is the idea that the poorest – those on benefits, especially – are somehow to blame for their own misfortune, rather than a system which prioritises the protection and accumulation of the wealth of the minority.

I fear that we’re seeing another example in the way that some groups are being scapegoated for the rise in coronavirus cases. That’s not to deny that some people are thinking only of themselves, or being reckless in ignoring guidelines, but the desire of so many to stigmatise others and demand ever greater punishments for transgressions is a very effective way of diverting attention from the incompetence of those who’ve got us into such a mess in the first place. And, without seeking to excuse the transgressors (who must, of course, take some responsibility for their own actions), concentrating on them is letting the decision-takers off the hook.

It’s understandable that people look at guidance from government and see inconsistencies and illogicalities. Why, for instance, is it considered ‘safe’ for a year group of 30 to interact in school, but ‘unsafe’ for 10 of that same group to hold a party in a house? The truth, of course, is that neither is ‘safe’, and governments (both in Wales and in London) have been misleading us when they claim that one of them is. There are risks in both cases, but increasing the level of social contact increases the level of risk, and those who do both are thus more likely to help spread the virus. Governments have prioritised work and education (whether that’s right or wrong is another question), and the policies are effectively based on a judgement that allowing both of those adds enough (probably more than enough) risk of spread, so that other types of social mixing still need to be controlled. But instead of treating the population like adults, they have simply issued dictats wrongly claiming that some activities are ‘safer’ than others. The result is that what people hear is ‘because I say so’ rather than a reasoned argument. Couple that with a government which both takes a cavalier approach to obeying the law itself and overlooks obvious and repeated transgressions by its own members, and why wouldn’t some people start to believe that the rules are ‘open to interpretation’ in ways that suit themselves? It’s a rational response.

With a new virus circulating to which there is, as yet, no vaccine or cure, and to which some people show no symptoms despite being infectious, then ALL social contact is potentially a risk of spread. But it’s also true (as the deniers point out) that ALL human activity inherently carries a level of risk, whether there is a pandemic or not. The question which arises is a simple one to ask but an extremely difficult one to answer: what level of risk are we willing to run, individually and collectively? That is the question facing ministers and, every time that they decide which activities to allow or disallow, they are taking a risk with an unknown number of lives. Instead of being honest with the population and having a sensible conversation about risks and consequences, they resort to wild and inaccurate claims that everything they are doing is ‘safe’. It isn’t. It’s a difficult conversation to hold, but to put it bluntly just how much disruption to everyday lives of the many is one life worth? It’s a utilitarian question, but I suspect that the answer which many would give in the abstract would be rather different if they knew that the one life was their own, or that of someone close to them.

Telling young people not to kill their granny, as the English Health Minister did this week, is a complete cop-out. What we need is not more scapegoating and evasion but a more honest conversation about risk. Expecting an honest conversation didn’t ought to be a risible proposition.