People are more important than land

Tweet

 

If Donald Trump were to content himself with annexing the southern part of Ontario Province rather than the whole of Canada (initially at least, always reserving the option to return for more at some future date), he would probably see that as being a major concession to Canada. From such a perspective, Putin only seizing 20% of Ukrainian territory also looks like a huge concession. It may look like a strange definition of ‘concession’ to most of us, but it’s easy enough to see how it would look different to someone who believes that the strong and powerful should be free to exercise their strength to get whatever they want. A bully who settles for less than he could take will always see himself as being generous.

That doesn’t alter the fact that the reality remains that, unless other states are willing to commit their own armed forces on the side of Ukraine (and I really hope that they’re not), sooner or later the country will either be swallowed up by Russia or else a negotiated peace settlement will involve the de facto, if not the de jure, surrender of lands, leaving the world with another of those long term frozen territorial disputes around borders. It’s neither fair nor just, but in the absence of any means of compelling the surrender of conquered territory, it’s a hard fact. Encouraging Ukraine to fight on merely adds to the terrible death toll which has already occurred – one of the few things on which I agree with what Trump says.

It's still somewhat depressing that, even recognising that harsh reality, the debate and negotiation all seems to revolve around what land and territory should be ceded to whom, with little consideration for the people living, whether currently or formerly, in those areas. One of Putin’s demands is for Ukraine to respect the rights of Russian-speakers living in Ukraine. (Being a native Russian speaker in Ukraine doesn’t make someone a Russian of course, any more than being a native English speaker in Wales makes someone English, although it's a distinction lost on Putin.) But what about the equivalent rights of Ukrainian speakers in the occupied territories? Or even those living in those territories whose native tongue is Russian but who nevertheless consider themselves Ukrainian? What about the citizens of those territories who have been forcibly removed to remote regions of Russia – to say nothing of the children who have been abducted, adopted, and who Russia has attempted to indoctrinate into hating their own families and nation?

Land and territory are tangible; people can swap maps with different proposals as to where lines should be drawn. But land and territory have always been moved between states, usually by the exercise of force. They are ultimately less important, however, than the lives and wellbeing of people, and the right of those people to choose their own nationality and identity. I’m far from convinced that that relative importance is receiving due attention in any negotiation process, but then neither Trump nor Putin are individuals who particularly care about people.

Truss, Sunak, and the reluctant genie

Tweet

 

For a Russian nationalist like Putin, it is entirely obvious that Ukraine is not, and never has been, a country at all. It is merely a part of Russia, and its people are just Russians with a funny accent and an odd dialect which some of them insist on using instead of standard Russian. It follows that, in those parts of Ukraine occupied by his forces, it is entirely proper that the school curriculum should be replaced by a proper Russian one, that the people should be issued with Russian passports, and that the flag of Russia should be flown everywhere instead of the previous ‘regional’ flag. Since it is clearly unacceptable to have different laws applying in a single country, obviously the laws laid down in Moscow will henceforth apply in occupied Ukraine also. All this will help those people previously ‘confused’ about their identity to understand that they are Russians, and to start behaving as such.

In the real world, a strategy of Russification will have mixed effects. Those who already identified as Russian (and those of us outside Ukraine tend to forget that that is a significant proportion of the population, particularly in the east of the country) will welcome it; some will comply with varying degrees of reluctance; others will double down on their Ukrainian nationality even if (like Catalans and Basques under Franco) they express it largely in secret, clandestinely passing on their language to their descendants. Some might think that the utter destruction being wrought on the territory taken over by Russia might push more people into the third camp, but the reality is that those in the third camp are perhaps the most likely to have moved westwards ahead of the invasion (or subsequently been deported to the far-flung reaches of Russia ‘for their own safety’), leaving a population predominantly consisting of those who are either delighted or else willing to comply. That is the advantage of using military force to impose a change of nationality on a reluctant people.

But leaving aside the use of military force as the method of choice, how different is what Putin is trying to do in Ukraine from what the English conservative party is trying to do in Wales, and more particularly in Scotland? Demanding that we all accept that the UK is not a union of four nations but a single country in which the same laws should apply everywhere would surely ring a bell or two in the Kremlin. As would branding everything with the Union flag. OK, expecting the devolved administrations to be accountable to the central government in performing tasks which are in their purview would probably look to Putin more than a little bit like going soft on the rebellious natives, but abolishing the devolved parliaments without the use of force leaves the Tories forced to take things a step at a time. And attempting to eliminate any ‘local dialects’ is not a venture which has been met with unqualified success over the last four centuries, with or without violent imposition.

The crucial difference though is that without repeating the highland clearances (which is sort of what Putin is doing in Ukraine), the impact on public opinion of those remaining may not quite work in the same way. Whilst they both start from the assumption that identity can be changed by imposition and central dictat, Putin is driving out those with Ukrainian sympathies so as to leave nothing to chance. Truss and Sunak, on the other hand, are assuming that most of those Scots and Welsh who aren’t already fervent supporters of the Union will simply comply and fall in behind the new reality rather than doubling down on their own sense of identity. Only time will tell whether they are right on that, although in Scotland at least it seems highly unlikely as things stand. They seem to believe that Blair’s devolution let the genie out of the bottle; others might think that the genie would have found a way out eventually anyway. Either way, from what I remember of the myths from my childhood, genies are not often amenable to being controlled, and putting them back into bottles is not an endeavour generally accompanied by huge amounts of success. I suppose, though, that it might divert a bit of attention from the looming economic disaster.

Mistake - or simply disinterest?

Tweet

Blair told us over the weekend that he’d made a mistake over devolution, because he “failed to do enough to ensure Welsh and Scottish devolution did not undermine the UK's national identity” and “did not understand in the late 1990s the need to maintain cultural unity between the different parts of the United Kingdom”.  An admission that he might have ever got anything wrong is something of a departure for him, but it seems to me that what it really tells us is that he did not understand at the time, and still does not understand now, why people in Scotland and Wales wanted devolution in the first place.

At the time that devolution was enacted, he – like many others in his party – saw devolution to Wales and Scotland as just the first step in the regionalisation of the UK, to be followed by the creation of regional assemblies across England.  They saw it, primarily, as being about better governance and administration rather than having anything to do with identity.  The regionalisation plan got as far as a referendum for the North-East, but came to a sudden and abrupt halt when the idea was overwhelmingly rejected. 

One might have thought that a rational response would be to ask why the idea was so popular in Scotland, and managed a small majority in Wales, but was so clearly rejected in England – but that seems to be a question Blair never asked himself.  Had he done so, he would have understood at the time that identity was at the heart of the demand for the creation of national elected bodies for Scotland and Wales.  If it were purely about the regionalisation of the UK and good governance, why would anyone choose those particular boundaries, particularly in the case of Wales?  The answer is because they mark the boundaries of perceived nations containing within them people who identify with a nation other than simply the UK.  It doesn’t follow that all those who voted for devolution were or have since become independentistas, but had it not been for that sense of identity and belonging, and a desire to see that expressed in political terms, there would never have been a majority for devolution in either country.

It follows from that that it was always inevitable that giving political expression to that perceived sense of nationhood would lead to differences in policy (there’s no point otherwise), and a probable strengthening of those different identities.  None of that necessarily leads to a demand for independence, as the different paths trodden by the two devolved nations shows, but the belief that it would have no effect on the way in which people choose to identify (or not) with the UK, let alone that it could have been prevented by taking stronger action to promote UK identity, shows a surprisingly naïve side of Blair.  Or perhaps it merely confirms that he never saw the issue as important or took much interest in it.

Preparing for change

Tweet

Benjamin Franklin claimed that the only two certainties are death and taxes, but I think there’s a third certainty as well, and that’s change.  The nature of that change is far from predictable, of course; and even those changes which are planned and controlled tend to have unforeseeable effects.  Those effects mean, in turn, that we can have quite different perspectives even on changes which are entirely foreseeable in themselves.

Yesterday, there was an item on the BBC news previewing the new presidency in the US, and asking which of his promises Trump could or could not implement quickly.  Specifically, there was a reference to his promises to return jobs to the ‘rust belt’ of America.  The reporter pointed out that one of the problems he faces is that these jobs haven’t been moved overseas, and native workers haven’t been replaced by immigrants; in large measure the workers have been replaced by robots.

Last month, I blogged on the probability that machines and computers are going to replace humans in many spheres as technology continues to develop.  That such a change will happen appears to be certain to me – the questions about how we react to it and what the effects will be are far more open.  Our response to the threat hinges on whether we believe that the change will create a myriad of new opportunities for businesses and work, or whether we believe that it will mark a permanent shift away from the idea that anything resembling full employment is possible.

The default position for most of those leading our society at the present is to adopt the former position – to assume, in effect, that there will be plenty of new opportunities (albeit ones which we can’t fully define or envisage at present) and do our best to position ourselves to take advantage of them.  The new AM for Llanelli, Lee Waters, wrote a piece along those lines for ClickonWales just before Christmas.  I understand – as I noted above – that the precise nature of any opportunities which will arise is inherently unpredictable, but I still found this piece by Lee to be disappointing.  It read to me more like a series of sound bites and slogans rather than an acknowledgement of the scale of the challenge facing us. 

In fairness, perhaps that’s the best we can hope for from politicians, stuck as they are in the current paradigm and having no real influence on what is going to happen, whilst trying to pretend that they are managing events.  But I tend to the alternative position; the one that expects this shift away from a requirement for human labour in a huge range of fields to be a permanent one.  I wouldn’t argue that there will be no new opportunities; but the numbers are likely to be much smaller than the numbers of jobs lost, and the work highly specialised – and there’s a whole world out there competing for them.  Even if some countries (possibly even Wales) are successful in attracting those new jobs, that’s at best a local solution; the global problem would still exist.

We tend to forget that the idea of work as the definition of what we are as individuals and the central purpose of our lives is, in human terms, a relatively recent one, and a direct result of the move to a capitalist system of production.  Certainly, that paradigm has increased the material well-being of the developed world’s population, but there is no necessary reason why it should be any more permanent than those paradigms which went before.  What if the logic of increasing automation does indeed permanently replace the need for much human labour?  Where does that leave our whole sense of identity and purpose?

The idea that automation would ultimately replace human labour is hardly a new suggestion; Marx was talking about it 150 years ago.  But the fact that previous predictions about the demise of human labour have proven premature doesn’t mean that it won’t happen at some point, and it may be nearer than many are assuming.  Perhaps I’m being unduly pessimistic (or optimistic – it depends on how we see the change and respond to it; Marx certainly saw it as a liberating possibility); perhaps it won’t happen this time either.  But little or no thought has been given to this by most people – and especially by those who need to take the decisions if we are to adapt. 

We can’t simply blame ‘immigrants’ (although no doubt some will try) for a change in the mode of production which the economic system itself has driven.  What would a society with enough work only for a minority look like?  Is it even possible to share that work out – can everybody be trained for the increasingly specialist roles?  How would we share the product of such an economy?  There are choices; we can share the available wealth more equitably or simply accept the growth of an increasingly large underclass of unemployed people, and there are degrees of sharing between those extremes.

If we don’t start to imagine a different type of economy and shape its development, it will happen anyway – but not necessarily in a controlled way which reflects the needs and wishes of the majority.

Union jackery

Tweet

The Sunday Times reported at the weekend that the UK Coalition Government is proposing to change the basis of the citizenship guidance and test for new immigrants.  Amongst other things, they’re proposing that new immigrants should demonstrate that they know the words of the first verse of the UK’s National anthem.  The ability to sing it in tune is presumably optional, as is any knowledge of anything beyond the first verse, particularly, one suspects, any unfortunate references to crushing rebellious Scots.

The government’s definition of the vital elements which new immigrants require to know will also include Shakespeare, Brunel, Elgar and the publication of the King James Bible.  Excised from the previous government’s version of the same document will be any references to benefits, human rights, and Thatcher as a ‘divisive’ figure.

(As an aside, the fact that a change of government can lead to such a change of emphasis also tells us that the identity being portrayed does not perhaps have the timeless and unchanging character which one might think, listening to the way some politicians talk.  It’s not something objective and apolitical at all.)

We’ve also seen something of an outbreak of what some have called ‘union jackery’ recently, what with the Royal Jubilee and the procession of the Olympic flame around the kingdom, and it’s easy to see some sort of conspiracy to impose a particular straightjacket of identity, in the context of growing national sentiment in Wales, and even more so in Scotland.  That seems to be an over-simplistic response, however; I'm not convinced that the 'establishment' is sufficiently organised or cohesive to run such a conspiracy.

In any event, I'm not sure that it would worry me over-much if they were.  After all, there’s nothing at all unusual about any state seeking to reinforce a sense of belonging and loyalty amongst its populace.  It helps to legitimise the status quo.  As far as I can see, it’s something that every country does in one way or another, and I don’t for a moment doubt that Wales and Scotland, were they to become independent, would do much the same, even if the official identity being promulgated were to be rather different.  States use symbols, institutions, events, and history to attempt to reinforce a sense of identification which then legitimises the state.

What’s more interesting for me is which symbols etc. they choose.  The anthem is an obvious symbol.  (I wonder, though, what the reaction would be to a suggestion that anyone moving to Wales should demonstrate that they know Hen Wlad fy Nhadau.  On second thoughts, I don’t really wonder at all – I think I have a fairly good idea how that suggestion would be greeted…).  Celebrating the achievements of individuals who are outstanding in their field is another obvious one.  And what’s wrong with celebrating national history?

But once we go beyond such (comparatively!) uncontroversial symbols as flags and songs, people start to make choices about what to stress and what to gloss over, and those choices tell us something about the ‘establishment’ view of what identity is.  One feature which immediately strikes me is the overwhelmingly 'English' feel around the selections made.  Inevitable, probably, given that England makes up 85% of the population.  And almost certainly not conscious or deliberate - but obvious anyway.  But what it means is that the symbols etcetera used to express 'British' identity today could, by and large, simply be relabelled and used to express 'English' identity were Wales and Scotland to become independent.  It's part of the reason why 'English' and 'British' are interchangeable for many in England.

Another feature is the strongly militaristic element to the UK establishment’s view of identity, which we see not only in a selective view of history which often concentrates on wars and battles, but also in the prominent role of the military when it comes to ‘national’ ceremonies and events.  The comparatively recent introduction of Armed Forces Day is a case in point.

Perhaps that militaristic element is part of what makes me react against the establishment view of Britishness.  It’s not a particularly nationalist perspective, but for those of us opposed to militarism, it’s easy to feel excluded from, and alienated from, an identity which seems to insist on emphasising past military glory to such a significant degree.

Identity is a complex business, based on a whole range of factors, and with more movement and migration, it’s becoming more complex, not less so.  Allowing politicians to seek to define it in ways which suit their purposes or reflect their perspectives inevitably leads to over-simplification, and that’s reflected in the Sunday Times’ headline, which read “God Save the Queen test for migrants”.

But there’s a second reason for being relaxed about the whole thing.  The idea that identity can be imposed on anyone is very much in the past.  People have more exposure to a range of influences than they did when the UK’s anthem was written.  Loyalty to queen and country is no longer as automatic as it was, nor does failure to demonstrate such loyalty have the dire consequences which it held in the distant past.  Identity can still be reinforced to some extent, but you can only 'reinforce' what already exists to at least a degree.  I suspect that attempting to promulgate and impose a particular view of a particular identity is now more likely to be counter-productive than effective.

One small example of that was the question raised when the Olympic torch passed through this neck of the words as to why the organisers were giving out Union Jacks but not y Ddraig Goch for people to wave.  It doesn’t mean that everyone's gone nationalist, merely that attitudes have changed.  The days when such a question wouldn’t even have been asked are long gone.

National identity these days is much more bottom-up than top-down; people can and do choose their identity (or even identities – there’s nothing odd to me about having more than one).  The attempt, by both the last and the present UK Government, to define identity in a very narrow fashion is backward-looking.  It makes those who promote it look rather Canute-like, except without the wisdom to know that failure is certain.

Narrow Nationalism

Tweet I was listening to someone talking the other day about the need to promote Welsh identity, but to do so without falling back on 'narrow nationalism'. It's a line that I've heard many times before, but the one thing I don't think I've ever really heard anyone explain properly is what they mean by 'narrow nationalism'.

Generally speaking, it often sounds almost apologetic in tone – 'I'm Welsh, but I'm not one of those awful nashies' as it were; as if pride in Welsh nationality and political nationalism must always go together. But the growth of political nationalism really shouldn't leave those who don't share that political perspective almost afraid to espouse their Welshness, let alone feeling apologetic about it.

Of course there are those who seem to think that all things Welsh=good; all things English=bad. There are even those who think that the existence of a Welsh nation should automatically mean that we must become an independent country. But I'm not sure that those views are typical of political nationalists - and they are certainly not views which I hold.

I happen to believe that Independence is the best long term future for Wales, but that isn't an axiomatic consequence of Welsh nationhood. It's based on a whole range of factors, and I've always been prepared to put the case for my vision for the future of Wales as robustly as I can, since I think we need to win the argument, not simply restate the fact of nationhood.

As far as I am concerned, there is nothing at all wrong with people feeling proud of their Welsh nationality and wanting to develop and promote Welsh identity, but at the same time thinking that Wales is best served by remaining an integral part of the UK. The debate about the future of Wales, both politically and culturally, would be all the better if that case were to be put more robustly and less apologetically than sometimes seems to be the case.

Far too often, the responsibility for putting the arguments against moves towards greater Welsh autonomy is left to those who deny the existence of Wales as a nation. And I'm far from convinced that they are either typical or representative of modern Wales.