Experience of failure is not the killer qualification as which some see it

Tweet

 

Experience is an odd commodity. As a generalization, most of us might expect that someone who has a lot of experience of doing something will be better at it than someone who has none, but it doesn’t always work that way. One of the reasons why some people end up doing the same job for many, many years is that they really aren’t very good at it. Peter’s Principle (“In a hierarchy individuals tend to rise to their levels of incompetence”) applies. I once interviewed someone for a job who claimed to have twenty years’ experience, but when we questioned him it turned out that he really had one year’s experience repeated twenty times. Experience is not only about duration – it’s also about depth and breadth. And experience of repeated failure without learning from mistakes made is a handicap, not a qualification.

The First Minister claimed this week that Labour should stay in power because it is the only party with previous governing experience in Wales. Even if it didn’t effectively amount to an argument that Labour should therefore enjoy perpetual power (because no-one will ever be able to gain that experience if we accept the argument), it’s a curious claim to make. In the first place, whilst some of the lessons learned from experience can be passed on after a fashion, ‘experience’ itself is personal to the experiencer. In the second place, ‘parties’ don’t have experience of government, it’s the ministers (who are often in any post for only a comparatively short time) who do; parties, as institutions, tend not to be very good at passing lessons on, which is one of the reasons why new generations of politicians often repeat the mistakes of the past. In the third place, many of those within Labour who possess this magical experience are either standing down in this election, or else at risk of defeat anyway. In the fourth place, whilst not everything that the Labour Government has done can fairly be described as a disaster (whatever their opponents might say), and there are often mitigating arguments based on relative incomes, ages and health, the objective evidence surely means that there are very few who would look at the last 27 years and see nothing but outstanding success; experience of failure may not be quite the qualification as which the First Minister apparently sees it. Finally, the institution which is supposed to be the guardian and repository of experience and its lessons isn’t the party, or even the ministers, but the apolitical civil service – which will still be there after May 7 to serve the new ministers.

I’m not sure that “desperate” – the headline accusation lobbed by Plaid – is an entirely fair description of the tactic by Labour. The subtext is surely a much more powerful condemnation: Inability to comprehend any alternative approach, complete failure to understand that voters in Wales want ‘change’ (even if they don’t all want the same change), and a general weariness with the apparent inertia of our political systems and structures. Our best hope for the outcome on 7 May is a government composed solely of independence-supporting parties. It’s hard to envisage any government which includes the attitudes currently being displayed by Labour having the vision and the energy to do anything sufficiently different.

Are the parties fighting the last war?

Tweet

 

It’s difficult to know how seriously we should treat any individual opinion poll. Different organisations use different methods, particularly when it comes to ‘weighting’ to try and ensure that the sample is representative. But when multiple polls by different organisations over a lengthy period show broadly consistent trends, it’s reasonable to suppose that they are telling us something about what is happening. In the case of the upcoming Senedd elections, I’m still struggling to believe how well in the one case, and how badly in the other, Reform Ltd and the Labour Party are doing. Whilst I can’t simply ignore the data-driven evidence in front of us, I’ll admit that, for someone who spent decades campaigning door to door, the extent and speed of the change is something I’m struggling to understand and accept. It somehow doesn't 'feel' right, and evidence which contradicts experience is always a difficult thing.

Once we get to a situation where there are two obvious front-runners, it’s probably inevitable that those two will start trying to ‘squeeze’ the votes of the other parties by presenting the outcome as a binary choice. That doesn’t mean that it isn’t intensely disappointing. In most of the campaigns I ever fought, I was more of a squeezee than a squeezer, left trying to convince people to vote for what they wanted most rather than against what they wanted least. So-called tactical voting is harder to determine under the new voting system for the Senedd elections, since it will probably only really have an impact on the sixth, or at best fifth and sixth, seats in any constituency, and it’s really hard to predict what will happen as we get down to that level of vote counting. Some of the politicians try to tell us that the new system makes every vote count, but it really isn’t true. Anyone voting for a party (or independent candidate) receiving less than around 10-12% of the vote in a constituency will effectively be, in the eyes of those trying to use the squeezing tactic, ‘wasting’ their vote; such votes will have no impact on the outcome of the election. Denial of the opportunity to register a second or third choice is my main criticism of the new system.

The question isn’t just about the mechanics and technicalities, however. I’ve long wondered just how effective the pressure to choose between Labour and Tory has been or, rather, to what extent the polarisation of electoral politics in the UK between the two largest parties was down to this tactic as opposed to other factors. Purely on the numbers, more recent elections show an increasing tendency away from a two-party polarisation – if it did work in the past, it hasn’t worked so well recently. Not only is it essentially a negative approach, but to the extent that it did work at all, it was never based on any careful analysis of opposing manifestos before choosing the lesser of two evils – it was far more visceral than that. A hatred of ‘the Tories’ on the one side and of ‘the Socialists’ on the other was always a substitute for proper debate between alternative visions for the future. Perhaps the fact that the ‘alternatives’ were generally not that different when analysed more objectively helped that framing. Whether either Plaid or Reform Ltd attract that sort of folk history-based hatred to a sufficient degree (outside the bubble in which the political anoraks live) is surely an open question. 'Stopping Reform' may not be quite the killer line that some seem to think.

They say that generals always prepare to refight the last war rather than the one that might actually happen, and I can’t help wondering if adopting a tactic based on what has historically believed to have been the case and trying to apply it in an entirely different scenario isn’t acting in a similar manner.

"The markets won't allow it"

Tweet

 

Faced with rising energy costs, largely as a result of Trump’s disastrous war in Iran, the former Tory Chancellor, Jeremy Hunt, told us that: “The markets wouldn't allow the kind of intervention I was able to do in 2022”, and suggested that any assistance to households would have to be far more targeted. There are, of course, good arguments both for and against targeting of assistance, and that’s an argument which will continue for the foreseeable future, whether in relation to energy costs or any other policy. Governments will make choices; the question, however, is whether they will make those choices on the basis of their own judgement as to what is right, or whether they will follow the neoliberal line that ‘the markets’ have such a stranglehold on policy that they will make the decision. Sadly, the current Chancellor seems to be as much in hock to that neoliberal argument as her predecessor.

Markets, as argued here previously, are an effective way of matching buyers and sellers, and can perform a highly valuable role in any economy. But markets which constrain, or even determine, government policy have ceased to be a tool of society and have set themselves up, instead, as our masters. ‘Markets’ are not objective arbiters of right and wrong, they don’t come out of nowhere with rules set entirely by themselves. They are, rather, a human construct, designed and built by people with the aim of facilitating economic activity. They are not impersonal forces which react in a considered way to events in accordance with predictable rules – market movements are the agglomeration of a large number of individual bets about the probable direction of future movements or, rather, bets about the way in which other participants will bet on those future movements. The idea that governments should allow their policies to be determined by markets which have been captured by gamblers and speculators is a complete abdication of responsibility, and a capitulation to vested interests.

Giving credence to the idea that ‘markets’ can and should control what governments can do comes naturally enough to those who support neoliberal economics and the obsession with abiding by arbitrary fiscal rules. The problem that we face is that the government and the official opposition are united in swallowing the lie – Reeves and Hunt are interchangeable. Austerity and economic inequality are two sides of the same coin – we’ll only escape from both when we re-establish the role of markets as servants rather than masters.

Protecting citizens doesn't mean impoverishing them

Tweet

 

Whether a US major actually said “It became necessary to destroy the town to save it” in justification of the destruction of Ben Tre during the Vietnam war remains a matter of conjecture. That it describes the more-than-occasional absurdity of the military mindset is less open to question. It’s reflected in Donald Trump’s apparent belief that bombing the whole of Iran back to the Stone Age is a way of freeing Iranians from an oppressive regime: the difference is more a matter of scale than of substance. UK politicians aren’t immune to the same way of thinking, as Tory leader Kemi Badenoch demonstrated a day or two ago. According to her, the way to prepare for war with Russia is to cut benefits, pushing more families into poverty in the process. ‘It is necessary to starve them in order to save them’, apparently.

Politicians and military chiefs seem to delight in telling us that Russia will be ready to attack us in five years’ time, a ‘truth’ which underpins their obsession with increasing military spending at the expense of anything and everything else. Whilst it is true that the loss of soldiers and equipment in Ukraine over the past 4 years means that Russia is hardly ready today to launch a major attack on the rest of Europe, and that it would take time for them to rebuild their forces and replace the losses, the evidence that they will be ready to launch said attack in five years’ time is not exactly obvious. And, in any event, it assumes firstly that the losses in Ukraine stop rather than continue, and secondly that Russia’s leaders will have learnt nothing from the cost of invading a single country which will in any way influence their thinking about attacking an even larger ‘enemy’. It rather looks as though ‘five years’ has been selected as the timeframe of choice by NATO’s political and military leaders because it’s close enough to sound imminent, but far enough away to allow people to believe that a huge redirection of resources into military hardware might make a difference. A betting man might suggest that, five years from now, the alleged threat will still be five years in the future. But the demand for more resources will continue to grow.

But here’s the other side of that five-year coin, as it were: it’s also enough time to pursue an alternative course of action, aimed at preventing a war rather than preparing to fight one. The warmongering politicians and military leaders demanding the impoverishment of the population in order to be ready to fight another major war in Europe may well sincerely believe that the best way of preventing a war is to convince ‘the other side’ that they would lose and lose heavily if they attempted it, but the danger of such an approach is that that ‘other side’ instead sees every improvement in equipment, and every deployment of troops, as a sign that an attack on them is being prepared, and reacts accordingly. Whilst I really don’t believe that NATO’s eastward expansion was an intentional precursor for an invasion of Russia (one of the concerns allegedly underlying the Russian invasion of Ukraine), I can understand that things might look different when viewed from Moscow.

With a major war raging on European soil, and with the White House and the Kremlin both occupied by madmen, seeking to de-escalate and build trust instead of planning a war isn’t going to be easy, but it’s the only rational approach for Europe to follow. Those who would lead us into war are fond of telling us that the first duty of any government is the protection of its citizens, but there’s an unspoken addendum: ‘even if it means impoverishing them’. I wouldn’t phrase the ‘first duty’ like that. It takes a very narrow view of the meaning of ‘protection’. If we rephrase it to say that the first duty of any government is to maintain and improve the wellbeing, welfare, and living standards of the population, priorities start to look very different. And they don’t include pushing people into poverty in order to fight a war.

Who's checking what the US are doing from UK bases?

Tweet

 

A few hours before Trump’s deadline for Iran to surrender, it was reported that heavily-laden B52 bombers were taking off (or at least attempting to) from RAF Fairford, presumably en route to Iran. Whether they were armed with conventional weapons or nuclear weapons we may never know, but we can only assume that the jets were turned back in flight after Trump agreed, instead, to negotiate the terms of his own surrender, based on an Iranian document which Trump described as “a workable basis on which to negotiate”, and which would require, amongst other things, the payment of reparations to Iran and the removal of US bases from the region. Trump clearly blinked first, although under what pressures from within his own administration remains uncertain.

Whether it’s really a sound basis for a lasting peace is another unknown at this stage, but the use of a UK base for launching those B52s is an issue which shouldn’t be allowed to go away. Starmer has taken what appears to be a very principled and legalistic stance in demanding that UK bases only be used for ‘defensive’ actions to protect British and allied lives in the Persian Gulf, and he has banned their use for offensive bombing campaigns against Iran. But here’s the question: does anyone really believe that those B52’s, whose take-off was timed so that they would arrive over Iran at about the time that Trump said he wanted to destroy an entire civilisation, were in any way involved in a ‘defensive’ mission rather than part of his planned attacks on civilian infrastructure?

When a bomb falls on an Iranian hospital, school, bridge, or power plant, who in the UK government knows whether it came from a plane flying from a UK base or not? Is anyone checking the mission details and flight logs of all US military aircraft departing from the UK to see whether the US is abiding by Starmer’s rules or not? Starmer has banked a certain, albeit limited, quantity of kudos for setting strict rules, but if adherence is not being monitored (even Starmer, surely, couldn’t be stupid enough to take Trump’s word about what he is doing), then those rules are meaningless. Accepting the word of the US president and then turning a blind eye to what happens in practice would not be the principled stance as which it is being presented.

Laser-focused complacency might not help

Tweet

 

In Blazing Saddles, Cleavon Little’s Sheriff holds a gun to his own head and gets out of a sticky situation by telling the townsfolk that “The next man makes a move, the n***** gets it”. In the real world, Trump’s approach to Iran seems to involve telling them that he’s going to bomb them for another two to three weeks, and if they then agree to his terms, he’ll walk away and reserve the right to bomb them again whenever he feels like it, but if they don’t agree to his terms, he’ll walk away anyway and reserve the right to bomb them again whenever he feels like it. He doesn’t quite seem to realise that he isn’t creating as much fear as he thinks, merely telling them that they just have to hold on for another two or three weeks. When Boris Johnson kept threatening to walk away from EU talks unless they gave the UK everything he wanted, the EU’s response was along the lines of “bye!”. That sheriff had no real power to compel anyone to do anything, but it was a comedy, and in fiction, characters will do whatever the scriptwriter tells them to do. While there are undeniable comic aspects to both Trump and Johnson, their lack of control of the script meant that neither could compel their interlocutors to do what they wanted – and those interlocutors weren’t playing it for laughs either. Trump, in business as in politics, has always over-stated the strength of his own hand and depended on bullying, violence and threats to obtain compliance; Johnson was just a typical English exceptionalist.

Talk of English exceptionalists brings us to the current PM, Keir Starmer, who tried to tell us yesterday that the UK is somehow uniquely well-placed to weather the current economic storms resulting from an ill-thought-out war. He has a plan, he told us, although detail on the content of said plan was remarkably short. From what little he did say, it seems to consist mostly of being laser-focused on waiting to see what happens and then being resolutely determined to do as little as he can get away with. The picture of the UK being painted by some others, i.e. as being perhaps more vulnerable than others to some shortages, seems not to have penetrated his laser-focused complacency. Maybe things won’t turn out as bad as some of the doom and gloom merchants are prophesying; maybe Trump's expressed admiration for Charlie Windsor will lead him to moderate his behaviour rather than add a king to the list of those publicly humiliated by him, but neither seem to be the soundest of foundations on which to build any sort of strategy. As a work colleague of mine once observed, ‘if you can keep your head while all around are losing theirs, you probably don’t know what’s going on’. A message intended to reassure, from someone who seems not to know what’s going on, doesn’t exactly hit the target. Even if the target is laser-focused.

Pressing concerns of the aristocracy

Tweet

As the world stands on the brink of an economic disaster brought about by the deranged occupant of the White House, and we ordinary mortals contemplate even further pressure on the availability, let alone the price, of essentials such as food and fuel, spare a thought for the trials and tribulations of that far from ordinary band known as the English aristocracy, the last of the hereditary members which are now, at last, being expelled from their cosy sinecures as part of the legislature of the United Kingdom. My thoughts lie particularly with the 7th Baron Carrington who was apparently disturbed by the possibility of losing his esteemed slot as the Lord Great Chamberlain, a post whose responsibilities include such important matters as 'attending upon' the sovereign and members of his family if they are ever present on the parliamentary estate, and organising the state opening of parliament (although I have a sneaky feeling that the actual ‘organising’ might just possibly be done by minions rather than by the noble lord in person).

It is obvious to all (well, all those who count, at least, including the Prime Minister who has agreed that the role should continue to be hereditary even if it is no longer accompanied by a seat in parliament) that the best way of choosing someone to fill this role is for the incumbent to inherit it from his (I believe that it’s still always going to be a he) forebears rather than to conduct any sort of assessment of their skills and abilities. The UK is, after all, a very special sort of meritocracy, in which merit is imparted by breeding. With a huge sigh of relief, the Baron can now be certain that the position is secure for himself and his descendants for generations to come.

Well, not exactly. The role might be hereditary after a fashion, but it’s shared between three families, passing from one to another whenever the sovereign changes. And one of those families has a 50% share, meaning that they get the job with every alternate sovereign, and the other two families have 25% shares, meaning that they only get the job once in every four sovereigns. Worse (if you happen to be a Carrington) is that the Carrington share is split 11 ways between different members of the family. What that means in practice is that the current incumbent has only been in post since the death of Elizabeth, and if Charlie Windsor pops his clogs tomorrow, no Carrington will hold the post again until Charlie’s first (currently unborn) great, great grandchild ascends the throne (if the monarchy lasts that long) in a century or more’s time. Even then, it may not be a descendant of the current incumbent, since the descendants of the 11 members of the family who jointly inherit the quarter share of the job will need to agree which of them should take the job.

Still, securing that somewhat tenuous privilege is clearly more important than the sort of thing which concerns we lesser souls.

War and its beneficiaries

Tweet

 

The dire warnings about the impact of the war in the Middle East on the global economy are mostly valid, and the fault lies squarely at the feet of Trump for failing to foresee the obvious consequences of his actions. The longer it continues, the more we will all suffer. In strictly economic terms (a very important caveat), however, it isn’t all bad news. Capitalism thrives on destruction – using up all those munitions generates orders for replacements; every aeroplane lost requires a new one to take its place; violent demolition creates opportunities for redevelopment. I’m not suggesting that any of this is a good thing for humanity, it’s just that there have always been some who benefit from war, and current wars are no different. The euphemistically-named ‘defence’ industries and their owners will be amongst the beneficiaries, obviously.

For the rest of us, though, it underlines the folly of looking at anything in ‘strictly economic terms’. Production of munitions will certainly generate employment and economic growth, as will the rebuilding programs which will be needed after any war. But pure economics ignores the human and moral aspects. There’s a lesson there as well which goes much wider than a specific military conflict, or even war in general. Government and politicians who bang on about growth and jobs invariably ignore other aspects in pursuit of increased total material wealth (which inevitably accumulates in the hands of the few). Mechanistic economics pays too little attention to questions about the non-monetary value of activity, let alone the morality of it, and whether it really serves the needs of humanity.

There’s nothing mystical or divine about an economy – it’s a human construct, designed by humans and operating in accordance with rules laid down by humans. It’s our collective choice whether we design economies to facilitate the accumulation of wealth by a few, or to meet the needs of all. It’s our choice whether decisions are made on purely economic grounds or whether they’re made after considering whether humanity as a whole benefits. It’s a mark of the extent to which a social, human construct has been captured and placed at the service of a tiny minority that we live in the world we do. And it’s a measure of the success of the ideology underpinning it that so few understand that it is not the natural order of things, but the outcome of that capture.

Taming the markets

Tweet

 

It is a given that Trump’s statement about talks with Iran is a lie. Working out which part of his rant is the lie is much harder – maybe there are no talks at all; maybe there are some sort of indirect talks taking place through an intermediary; maybe (as Trump himself has hinted) the talks are taking place with someone who has no authority to hold them (and therefore to implement any agreement), and whose life is under threat if the regime currently in power find out he’s talking to Trump; perhaps he’s even talking to the late Shah’s son in the mistaken belief that he can put him back on the throne. With Trump, any or all of these are possibilities: the nearest thing to a certainty is that the statements coming from the regime in Iran are more likely to be true than anything Trump says. Only time will tell which lie he is telling.

Meanwhile, one of the apparent certainties is that the words emanating from Trump’s phone fingers can and do move markets. As a direct result of Trump’s claim about talks, conveniently issued shortly before markets opened, oil prices fell and stock market prices rose – two of the outcomes most highly valued by a man who measures the success or failure of everything in terms of increasing the wealth of himself and his billionaire friends. Superficially, it’s a puzzle as to why this happens. After all, those involved in the markets know as well as I do that the truth is a stranger to Trump’s lips, and that whatever he says now will probably be reversed in days, if not hours. What makes them place such trust in his words?

The answer to that lies not in what any of those involved in speculative buying and selling themselves believe might or might not be true, but in what they think that other speculative traders might or might not believe. If you believe that everyone else is going to be selling oil (pushing the price down) or buying stock (pushing the price up), then it becomes a race to sell or buy before everyone else does so in order to turn a quick profit. (And if you can get hold of some advance information, speculation – or even simple betting – becomes easier. It’s an obvious hazard when dealing with a ‘leader’ who sees personal and family enrichment as an entirely legitimate goal.)

That brings us to the problem with markets. As a mechanism for matching genuine sellers with genuine buyers, markets are an extremely effective process. They have, though, been largely hijacked by people who have no interest whatsoever in the ‘things’ they are buying and selling; it is the process of buying and selling in itself, with the prospect of turning a quick profit, which attracts them. Commentators describe volatile markets as a ‘problem’, but that’s only true for those genuine buyers and sellers. For speculators, volatility equals opportunity. The consequences of that volatility are felt in the ‘real’ economy by all of us, whilst a minority redirect wealth to themselves. For as long as legislatures allow this situation to continue, markets and the economy they support end up controlling us, when they should be serving society as a whole. Where are the politicians willing to tackle this scourge?

Trump can't make all the rules

Tweet

 

When I was a child, the kids from our street used to go into the fields at the end of the road and play commandos. Well, it was the 1950s, and ‘the war’ might not have been a memory for us, but it was still fresh to our parents’ generation. It was a game which would often dissolve into acrimony as debate raged over whether one or other of us was ‘taking his shots’; a debate in essence as to whether the imaginary bullet had hit or missed its target. Even the world’s best ballistics expert would have been unable to answer the question – tracing the trajectory of an imaginary bullet fired from an imaginary gun is no simple matter. And we didn’t have such an expert on hand anyway.

It was a childish debate, of course – but then we were children and children are allowed to be childish. But it seems to me that Trump – a man-child if ever there was one – has got to a similar stage in his war against Iran: the Iranians are just not taking their shots. He believes that he has ‘won’, but the loser is declining to oblige him by meekly accepting defeat. Six decades ago, we children learnt that no matter how determined any one of us might have been to set his or her own rules for the game, it only worked as long as the rest of us agreed to be rule-takers. It's not a lesson that everyone learns.

Trump has lived his entire life believing that he alone sets the rules, and that rules set by others can be ignored. Mostly, he’s had that stance validated by the behaviour of others, even if that behaviour has been the result of threats, bullying and aggressive law suits which many of his targets have chosen to settle rather than drag out at huge cost. And now he’s got himself into the most powerful position on the planet, with huge resources of weaponry at his disposal, and he’s encountering more push-back than he’s ever encountered before. Iran might be the bloodiest and most obvious source at present, but it’s also increasingly coming from other governments, which he sees as vassals, declining to prostrate themselves before him and do his bidding without question.

His instinctive reaction has been to fall back on the learned behaviour which has served him so well in the past – turn up the volume on the threats, insults and bullying. If – when – that doesn’t work, what will he do next? The world’s best hope is that he falls back on his other standard ploy: lie and claim victory. Repeatedly. Whether the other players will let him off the hook so easily remains to be seen. Not taking their shots can be habit-forming.