Maxi

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Maxi

@AllForProgress_

For Progress. https://t.co/FCnXMmTdhg https://t.co/4m51qLkh7i

Katılım Temmuz 2022
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Maxi
Maxi@AllForProgress_·
For the last year I've been helming the development of Progress, a new British political movement beyond left and right, for whom I have been acting as founder and leader. Today we are publicly releasing our policy testament, and with it, introducing our party and organisation for the first time. If you've been reading this feed over the past fortnight you'll have some idea of what we think is wrong with Britain. The tweets were not an exercise in commentary. They were the opening argument of a case we intend to prosecute through the coming years, made by a group of highly able everyday citizens who have spent years looking at the parlous state of the country in which they live and feel summoned to duty. Progress' philosophy is a best-of-both-worlds approach to the mixture of political spectrum positions. We believe in industrial development, real wage increases for the worker, skills and training, healthy public services (including and especially the NHS), and giving everyone in Britain a fair stake in their society; we will do more for working people on these issues than Labour have in living memory. We will do more to secure Britain's streets from crime than the Tories have in a century. We are committed to answering the public's repeat and clear wishes on immigration in a way that is both uncompromised and robust, as well as utterly civilised. We are in step, and side-by-side, with the median voter on these issues because Progress was founded by the median voter, for the median voter. We are the proud and natural home for the politically homeless. You may ask, "Why not Reform or Restore or the Greens?" In short, we at Progress understand implicitly the scale of the problems that face our country. We know that only organisations capable of the highest performance have a chance of wresting those problems to the ground. We look at Reform and Restore and the Greens and, like you, are left in no doubt that they are incapable of the level of performance required. They are conventional political organisations capable only of conventional things. Britain needs something far greater than that. The policy testament we are sharing with you today is the richest, longest, and most comprehensive integrated vision for the future of Britain written yet this century, a document that will continue to evolve as our understanding of how to best serve our people grows. We invite you to read it. It was written by people who take you and your needs extremely seriously. And yet, for all that, half a million words of policy is the easy part. The real challenge comes now, in building a political machine up and down the country not merely capable, in time, of contesting elections, but capable in the immediate term of providing value to the communities in which they are embedded. This is the essence of our aim: not to beg trust but to win it through service, without being asked and without asking anything in return. At Progress, we call this 'CIV', or 'Community Investment'. Our work may elapse over a generation before it bears fruit. Fate may intervene to bring it to resolution, good or bad, long before that. In the chaos of our world there's no way to know. But what is in our control is our drive and ability to build, and "build" is what we're doing and what we’re going to do. We require community leaders, active and would-be, to help support our existing CIVs up and down the country and build more. We require experts and technicians of every stripe. Outsized and unusually shaped talent is the alpha and the omega of our organisation. We require, above all else, any and everyone who has looked at what Britain has become and concluded that responsibility for fixing it must lay with the people, not with a professional failure class. Never doubt that, as dark as things seem in this land of ours, there are those fighting, hard and earnest, to right the course. If you’re stirred by duty, if you wish to work with a British political organisation that can do things others can't, then come and give us your hand. It Can Be Done. progressforbritain.org
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Maxi@AllForProgress_·
We need to talk about markets, and the way people feel about them. You may have heard that Standard Chartered is preparing to replace a large number of its staff with AI in what the bank is calling a "profitability drive". The people being let go are the back-office staff, the junior analysts, the operations clerks, the men and women in the call centres in Birmingham (and Manila, and Chennai) who answer the bank's phone for it. To this crop of the soon-to-be-unemployed, Standard Chartered has referred with a unique phrase. "Lower-value human capital." I'm a pro-market guy, and I am that seven days a week. How could I not be? Any honest reading of history will tell you that open markets, private enterprise and the right to make and keep a profit are the most successful engines of human freedom, prosperity and self-actualisation our species has ever managed to build. They are the foundation of more or less everything Britain has ever done well. But when I read financiers referring to people about to be put out of a job as "lower-value human capital", I feel a little pang of sympathy with the Eat the Rich crowd. And it's not even the event itself that concerns me most, though it does, but the phrase itself. The phrase matters because, beyond its simply offensive character, there's something in it that you can see exhibited in multiple quarters these days - not just among financiers, but within governments, and among captains of industry - that's responsible for driving people to the kind of barren extremes of belief that have become so common in our world in the past decade. Consider, for instance, the things that have been said lately on daytime TV and during spring graduation ceremonies at American universities about AI and its effect on work and the economy. We've seen, in those places, heads and VIP shareholders of major AI companies walk into halls full of 20-yr-olds and explain, in tones that leave these very wealthy men powerless to hide their giddy excitement, that the technology they own is going to eliminate the entry-level professions those graduates have just spent three years training for. That white-collar work, as a viable rung on the career ladder, is finished. That the economies the graduates will live in will become more stratified as a result of AI's inexorable expansion, if they exist at all. And that the graduates, on hearing all this, should consider themselves privileged, for they shall be the first to "serve" this extraordinary new technology, which of course primarily means serving the men who own it. Now, I do not begrudge these people their breakthrough. I build systems with AI in them for a living. I've built LLM architectures by hand, on my own. I understand the technology well-enough to grasp that it is going to be very important even if its powers have been oversold. And Britain should be building AI. In fact, our successes in the field are one of the few genuinely hopeful chapters in the British industrial story of the last decade. Nevertheless, there is a difference between building a powerful technology and announcing, in tones of nakedly anticipatory delight, that you intend to use it to turn the coming generations into a mass serf-class. That many of them will be immiserated and left completely without any stake in the society they live in, but that that is a price you are willing to pay in return for your unimaginable shareholder benefit. Talking to people like this, promising them their own ruin, is the sort of consummately moronic communication that makes people want to firebomb your house and burn down the cities they live in. And this is a critical problem for anyone who cares about politics in the Western world, and particularly those who care about forging a new vision of broadly shared progress that is, at its base, founded on principles of trade and markets. The problem is that people hate markets, industry, technology and the people behind them in this country and across the West because, for forty years, those people have shown that they are not even slightly interested in the notion of giving the wider population a stake in their own futures. And the more the captains of industry and finance gloat that the future belongs only to them, and the less anyone at any level is concerned about how we give people a stake in the future in question, the more the Mangionification of society will continue. A doctrine for the organisation of society that does not put some kind of shared prosperity and human development at its centre is worthless. A country whose ordinary people are told, decade after decade, that yes, you are the lower-value human capital - the future has been planned without reference to their interests, and your only pleasure is to serve those who have planned it thus - will ultimately light itself on fire. We must be pro-markets, pro-industry and pro-technology. But we must, at all times, also put those instruments in the service of the interests of human development. We must be determined that the productive engines of, for instance, this country are built so that ordinary British people own a piece of them, work inside them, profit from them, and have a future as a result of the labour they yield. Building powerful industries and giving ordinary people a stake in them are not two separate projects, but are one and the same project, conducted at the same time, or it is no project worth a vote. Not Britain nor the world will survive another forty years of a model in which a small caste hoovers the value upward and explains, on the way out, that the people whose jobs they took had it coming.
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Maxi@AllForProgress_·
The South London and Maudsley NHS Foundation Trust spent two years deliberately obstructing a Metropolitan Police rape investigation. It withheld patient records. It redacted its own internal reports before sending them to detectives. It ignored more than thirty emails from serving Detective Constable Michelle Elisio in a two-month stretch. And when one of its own staff accidentally forwarded an internal email between colleagues containing the words "don't give them any more", the Trust still did not change course. The reason for the obstruction was that the trust had failed in the first place to protect a vulnerable psychiatric patient from being raped on one of its own wards. And rather than face the consequences of that failure, it chose to obstruct the criminal investigation, to the point of allowing two men to go on trial for the rape, one of whom, Luther Badejo, was thirty years old, mentally ill and had been nowhere near the ward at the relevant time. Mr Badejo was completely innocent of any wrongdoing, and still had to sit through the opening days of his own rape trial before detectives, mid-proceedings, cornered a staff member and physically extracted the duty rota that proved he was not, and could not have been, guilty. The judge discharged him on the spot. The actual perpetrator, Davointe Thomas, twenty-seven, was convicted in April and committed to an indefinite hospital order. That is the shape of the thing. An NHS Trust, having failed to protect its own patient from a sexual assault on a psychiatric ward, was prepared to lie, cheat, and destroy evidence, even send a mentally ill innocent man to prison rather than face the music. This is it, unfortunately, in the modern NHS. The organisational disposition of a British institution that has decided its first and only duty is to itself. I say this because it is not a one-off. At Blackpool Victoria Hospital, every staff member at the centre of last year's serious neglect case was jailed. At the Sussex maternity unit, at least fifty-five avoidable infant and maternal deaths were buried under a fog of "lessons learned". At the Countess of Chester, the consultants who tried, in real time, to raise the alarm about Lucy Letby were ordered to apologise to her. The pattern is no longer disputable. When an NHS institution is caught failing, its first instinct is institutional self-preservation, and the patient - together with anyone investigating on the patient's behalf - comes a very distant second. And I say this because I believe in the core idea of the NHS. I have a horror of the devolution of what we have now into some atrocious travesty-emulation of the American system; but the choice cannot be between that and what we've got. The NHS must survive by changing and being changed. It is a matter of life and death. And one way in which it must be reborn is through revising the criminal accountability of British public institutions on a principle the country has spent forty years quietly walking away from. People in positions of public trust who commit criminal acts in the conduct of their duties - the consultant who destroys evidence, the trust director who orders the redaction, the senior manager who writes "don't give them any more" - will face higher punishment than the ordinary citizen would for the same conduct. Yeah, higher, and rightly so, because if you ask the public to trust you with their lives, with the lives of its mothers, its mentally ill, its children, then breaching or exploiting that trust must be met with the harshest penalties. And then there is finally a point worth being plain about. We want great institutions in Britain. We wrote the book on them: how to build them, how to sustain them, how to keep them great. Great institutions are great because they are not corrupt. They are not-corrupt because the people who staff them, individually and continuously, choose not to be corrupt themselves. The British public institutions of the past century and a half - the courts, the universities, the NHS, the police, the civil service - were, by world standards, astonishingly clean, because the people inside them had inherited a particular British civic ethic of stewardship, honest reporting and personal accountability. That ethic has to be transmitted and defended. It cannot be taken for granted especially given that resistance to corruption is not the default setting for most cultures in most places around the world. If you deny this is so, one must presume you have never been anywhere. Favours, bribery, group preference and institutional cover-up are the daily operating reality in many places around the world. Here, they must mean jail. Adapt, or it's a matter of freedom-lost. Anyone who wants British standards of living would do well to project this principle from their chests, especially if they are keen that our society of varied origin ever be harmonised to itself. The South London and Maudsley cover-up is one in a sequence whose moral character is now unambiguous. It's time to end the regime that lets institutions investigate themselves, punish public servants who break the public trust harder than the law currently does, and rebuild the civic inheritance without which no British institution will continue to function.
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Maxi@AllForProgress_·
The private sector lost 377,000 in the year to December 2025. As per the ONS workforce-jobs release covering that period, we saw our most crucial industries starve in 2025, contracting more than in any time in recent history other than during the height of COVID pandemic. Plenty of verticals were affected. The country lost 78,000 jobs in finance and insurance, 77,000 in information and communications, 68,000 in wholesale and retail, 52,000 in manufacturing, and 45,000 in professional and scientific services. Labour-rationing, shrinkage, and misery in all the sectors that mark out and define an advanced economy. It's an unmistakable pattern. The individuals and collective enterprise that generate Britain's wealth - yes, wealth has to be created, contrary to the garyeconomical view of money; it does not well naturally out of the ground, and if the people who create is piss off elsewhere, we all get poorer - are in retreat. You want a high-skill, high-wage industrial Britain, with amazing bargaining power put in the hands of working people, and tracks to prosperity for everyone? Great, so do I. But it is never going to happen if these numbers aren't reversed. Interestingly, in the same twelve months, the state-funded sectors added 114,000 jobs: 44,000 in education, 41,000 in public administration and defence, 29,000 in health and social work. On the one hand, hurrah. We need more and better teachers, we need more frontline healthcare staff. On the other hand, every single one of these people, doing vital work, has to be paid for. They are paid for from the taxation of the private economy, the same private economy that is contracting around it. And the state pays its own people better, too: regular pay growth in the public sector last quarter was 4.8%, against 3.0% in the private sector. The state is hiring more workers, paying them better, and being underwritten by a private economy that is being made to shrink in order to do it. And you know that not all of those new additions will be where they're most needed. Many will be in redundant managerial or bureaucratic functions. How do we know this? Because these have been the functions that the state has amplified most across hiring in recent decades. Our glumly inept chancellor was told this would happen, in detail, by the British Retail Consortium, by every business federation in the country, and by the empirical evidence of how labour markets respond to employer tax rises. She went ahead with her plan, because the thrill of levying the tax against big, bad business is the point. The Treasury model said the revenue would come, but the country said the jobs would go. And the country is almost never wrong. The composition shift matters more than the headline. The half of the country that pays its own way - that takes a risk, hires a colleague, makes a margin and reinvests it - is being starved to death in real time, while the half it pays for is growing on the proceeds. The bill for that expansion comes due on the people who can no longer find the jobs they trained for, the wages they used to earn, or the firms they used to work in. Voters will end up cash poorer and shorter in their professional horizons; their children's route into productive work will be narrower than their own was; the country, in aggregate, will be smaller, less interesting and more expensive to live in.
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You might have heard of Maggie Oliver. She's a former Greater Manchester detective who, in 2012, was ordered to abandon her investigation into the systematic rape of children in Rochdale, and decided she would rather resign her warrant card rather than do so. Maggie, as that would imply, is one of the good ones. I constantly ask how our police can consider themselves worthy of the badge if they are not willing to return the badge rather than commit injustice in its name. Maggie did just that; she was asked to cover for criminals, so she told the shirts to stuff themselves and handed back her commission. She won a small but consequential victory in the High Court on Friday. Mr Justice Kimblin granted her foundation a full judicial review of whether the British state has actually done anything about the recommendations it accepted, in 2022, at the end of a seven-year inquiry into the institutional cover-up of decades of child sexual abuse. Maggie Oliver is one woman. She has no political party behind her and no standing in Whitehall. She has no peerage, no chambers, no billionaire foundation footing her bills. She was ordered, by senior officers, to drop her investigation into a network of men who were raping children in industrial quantities in her city, because of the demographics to which those men belong made the whole thing a bit awkward. Fourteen years on, she has done what nobody else in this country has been able to. She has hauled the British state into open court to answer for the choice it made, over four years and under two governments, to hold a seven-year, £200 million inquiry into the institutional cover-up of child abuse and implement, deliberately, none of that inquiry's recommendations. The Home Office accepted those recommendations in 2022. So did the Department for Education, the police inspectorates and the Crown Prosecution Service. And then nothing happened. The recommendations sat. The departments restructured. Ministers rotated. The girls and women who had given evidence aged. More such operations continued around the country, while the men who had run the previous set of them either walked free, left the country, or drew their own pensions. The state, in the manner of every institution Tony Blair ever built, had decided that the writing of the report was the action, and the doing of the report could be handed off to history. That is what Maggie Oliver has now forced into court. And the political class knows what that means. The Home Secretary has not commented. The Prime Minister has not commented. The candidates jockeying through the post-Starmer Labour succession have, at the time of writing, failed even to speak her name, as though they know that, if they do, lightning will flash in the sky and they'll be turned into a pillar of Tesco's-own-brand dishwasher salt. They are silent because they recognise, accurately, that the answers a judicial review will produce - to the question of why their inquiry's findings were treated as ornamental - will, should, must end the careers of every official who was supposed to act on them and did not. That councillors and councils, mayors, indeed entire political parties, will be caught under ultraviolet light and shown for their guilt. It's time a government did what the British state has spent twenty years declining to do. Take on institutional failure. Name the institutions that failed, in public, on the record. Name the officers and officials who covered it up, and the officers and officials who pressed for the cover-up too. Prosecute them under the standards that any other employee of a public organisation defrauding the public would expect to face. The recommendations the inquiry produced must be implemented in full, alongside whatever further measures a second look at the evidence then demands. There will not be another inquiry into the inquiries. There will be the verdicts. Maggie Oliver is one of the bravest people in Britain. She has earned, by her own resignation and by fourteen years and a foundation and a court case carried on her back, the right to expect from a future British government the simple thing that ought to have happened in 2014, in 2016, in 2018, in 2022 and in every other year of this national disgrace. She has not yet been given it; we have not yet been given it. But it will be given, and soon.
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A whistleblower has revealed this month that civil servants across multiple Whitehall departments have been gaming the flexitime system to award themselves up to fifty extra days of paid holiday a year That's about 2.5 months of full-time work lifted off the public payroll without record, on top of the CS-norm 26 days of annual leave, the eight public holidays, the contractual sick days, and of course the parental allowances that are already part of the standard package. The methods and techniques by which this fraud has been accomplished are worth dwelling on, because the detail tells you something about the institution. The first technique is the laptop-open-on-the-kitchen-table move. Here, the civil servant clocks off for all intents and purposes at 5pm but leaves a work laptop on, accumulating "active hours" from a home Wi-Fi connection, registering the evening as labour without performing any of it. The second trick is the commuting-time-as-paid-hours wheeze, in which the round trip from Surbiton to Whitehall - coffee-and-podcast - is logged as part of the working day. The third con, which the whistleblower reported as the most brazen of them all, is the straightforward falsification of office attendance against the three-days-a-week-on-site rule that this government, having promised the public a return of civil servants to civil-service buildings, has manifestly failed to enforce. The falsifications, in some cases, have been running for years. Sit, for a moment, with the kind of person who does this and the kind of institution that permits it. The person doing it is, in the main, a desk-bound senior official on between £55,000-130,000 a year, with access to a clocking system that runs on trust, who has decided, with the active connivance of his line manager and the silent assent of his department, that the appropriate response to that public trust is to defraud it. And it's not even ambitious or spectacular. At least with a major fraud, you have a level of vision and nerve you have to admire even as you despise the motivating corruption. No, here, it's done through a series of small, deniable engineered manoeuvres that together transfer large sums of public money into undeserving pockets. No honour among thieves, but some thieves are even less honourable than others. The institution that permits it is the British Civil Service, an organisation whose senior cadre has spent the last decade in a state of escalating public-facing self-pity about its working conditions while the country it is paid to run has visibly fallen apart underneath it. These are the same people who inherited the mandate of Brexit and, because the idea ran against the Metropolitan class bromides by which they orient their lives, hashed it up on purpose to punish the electorate whom they are duty-bound to serve. And it's the same civil service that could not, in the end, manage a single COVID procurement contract without losing about £30 billion out of the back of the warehouse. In light of this general disposition, a flexitime fraud is its small, daily, individual expression. And the cost is not abstract. The Civil Service pay bill runs to roughly £15 billion a year. Headcount has grown by approximately a hundred and fifty thousand since 2016, with the deepest expansion in the policy and "leadership non-teacher" desk grades, the exact cohort the whistleblower says is gaming hardest. Every 50-day phantom holiday, on a senior salary, is around £20k of public money paid for nothing. The country has been told for years, under successive governments, that there is no fiscal room for the things the country actually wants, like policing, prosecutions, courts that sit, borders, doctors, dentists, because the public finances are too tight. Bollocks are they. You've got a whole parallel economy of piss-artist leave-taking running in Whitehall, and there'll be plenty more cash coming in to keep its subsidy even given this whistleblower's report. I don't for a second believe that no one senior saw it or knew about it, just as I don't believe that the rampant inequities in our police departments go unnoticed by whole legions of bystanders. But the bystanders are not arsed. That's why I say "Hooray for the whistleblower." Their life is going to be hell. They will be hugely unpopular. They will be described as bitter, disloyal, mentally ill, motivated by personal grievance, and unrepresentative of the dedicated public servants who go above and beyond. That is what these institutions always say when one of their own breaks ranks. It is what they said to Maggie Oliver about Rotherham, to Alan Bates about Horizon, to the survivors of the Letby ward, the Cumberlege report, and the Sussex maternity unit. The smothering of internal dissent is now part of what the British civil service does for a living. The actual public service is something it has subcontracted to itself, badly, in stolen office hours, from the kitchen table. I was the Civil Service comprehensively remade in this country, the only way such things are ever made, which is by changing the people and all the incentives under which they operate. These people have been on the public payroll for fifteen years and have produced nothing for which the public can be grateful. It's time to find out where the hours went, and dispense with those who are wasting them, along with our money.
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@graemearcher Feel free to drop me a DM Graeme, would love to introduce you to what we're building at Progress.
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Graeme Archer@graemearcher·
The re-emergence of the importance of Hume, Bacon, Burke and so on - the contrast between British empiricism and continental grand theory - in pieces like this are striking. I know my feed is fed by algorithm but I do see an upsurge in commentary that explains the origin of woke, and why it is so fatal to pluralist societies, in this way. They give me hope. I think a good challenge for right-wing parties is to develop a doorstep-sellable narrative about that contrast, which connects the multiple failings of the British state with adherence to that theory. Just as Mrs Thatcher and Keith Joseph did in the 1970s, funnelling Hayek and Friedman into the diagnosis of what was wrong about closed shops and inflation. You might rage against a judge jailing a woman about a tweet, or the lack of female toilets at the theatre, or an arts administrator likening your politics to Hitler's Germany, or your children being taught that maths is racist. All those examples are the same thing, or at least have the same origin: adherence by the lanyard class to critical theory ideology. So it is the "discreditation" of that one thing which should be the Right's primary political objective.
Maxi@AllForProgress_

"The system doesn't work." A cliché that has done something to very dimly light up about five decades of progressive decline in the institutional machinery of the West. In Britain alone, you could make the remark accurately of about three dozen different systems - the entrenched civil service, newly pledged to rebel against future governments it doesn't like; the planning system; defence procurement; our capitalist-command economy as a whole. But if you want to really fix a system, rather than just moaning about it, you need to understand it. And all systems begin with thought, the best and the worst. The ones that work are built on careful, high-calibre thinking. The ones that don't are built on muddled, incoherent thinking. There is often more thinking in a failed system than in a successful one. So when we find ourselves staring at this marvellously orchestrated mesh of systems that are all perfectly dysfunctional, and all seemingly perfectly attuned to accentuate dysfunction in each other, we have to ask ourselves: what's the thinking behind all the mess? If you ask that question about Britain as a whole, the answer, both ironically and - given Wes Streeting's parting waltz with the question of rejoining the EU - topically, actually takes you straight out of Blighty and over to the Continent. For three centuries the dominant tradition in British thought has been empirical, 'thought measured carefully against reality'. Piecemeal. Inductive. Meritocratic. We are a people wary of of grand systems and elegant total theories. Bacon, Locke, Hume, Smith, Burke, Mill, Russell - for any British reader these names mark out the operating method of a civilisation that learned to think with its hands as well as its head. I've been exploring exactly this in my ongoing "What is British Culture?" Substack series. Our tradition calls on us to observe, test, refine, discard what fails, and hand on what works to the next generation, slightly improved. The Common Law is built that way. So is Newtonian physics, Darwinian biology, the British surgeon's craft, the British engineer's workshop, every patient and stubborn act of construction to which this country has ever put its name. The empirical disposition is what made the modern world habitable; and it is, at the root, a builder's disposition. It is the greatest thing we have ever exported and, by measure of the safety, prosperity, and room for flourishing genius it and it alone has produced, it is probably the greatest thing anyone has ever exported. As close as we are to Europe in many ways, in this respect we are very different. Their tradition makes it clear. From Descartes through Hegel and Rousseau, on through Marx and at last into the postmodern wing of Foucault, Derrida and Deleuze, the Continental mind has preferred to build rationalist systems - diagrams of everything, often dreamt up by some clever bugger while he was sat in the bath - and then to flatten reality until it can be contained obediently inside them. The Continental thinker writes the schema first, and the world is asked to fit. When the world fails to fit, the world is what is wrong. Sometimes, there is an attempt to fix the world appropriately, in the course of which the continent is usually upended and 10s of millions of people die. The name for this operation in the seminar rooms changes every fifty or so years, but the operating system underneath is one machine. In the 1970s, when its French founders were still alive, the most recent (and, for our purposes, relevant) brand was known as deconstruction. By the time it had crossed the Atlantic and been wired into the American academy, it had become what you would know as critical theory, then critical race theory, then post-colonialism, queer theory, gender theory, standpoint epistemology, intersectionality, decolonisation, whiteness studies, and at last - packaged for the mass consumer - 'woke', the creed of our presiding Metropolitan class. The labels are interchangeable because the operation underneath is identical. You take any inherited truth - any moral norm, a legal principle, a scientific finding, a national history, even a category as workaday as "man" or "woman" - reframe it as the disguised expression of a power relation between an oppressor class and an oppressed one, discredit it by reference to that power, and then move on and do the same to the next one. The output, after fifty years run at industrial scale through every institution that mattered, is a country in which no inherited claim is any longer permitted to stand on its own evidence, because every such claim has been re-read and delegitimised as somebody's tool of domination. If you're looking for the reason - the real reason, the deepest-planted driving factor - behind Britain's past 30 Years of Hurt, you're now looking at it. Mired in post-imperial shame and philosophically vulnerable, we imported this ideology, and naturalised these ideas, wholesale, all across the British state over the past several decades. Look, and you'll find it everywhere. A Bristol jury acquits the four protesters who tore down the statue of Edward Colston, after judicial directions permitting it to weigh the political symbolism of the act against the laws of criminal damage; a deconstruction of property law in plain view. Lucy Connolly was sentenced to thirty-one months in prison for an angry tweet about the Southport killings, where privileged members of the governing class get lighter sentences for CSOs, a deconstruction of both the principle of rational justice and that of free speech, grouted together with old-fashioned in-group amoral familism. An entire generation of paediatric medicine has founded its practice partially on the deconstructionist premise that biological sex is a discretionary fiction. The canon which has formed the backbone of British cultural life, marginalised on pain of having been written by white men. And these are far from the most cataclysmic manifestations of deconstructivist doctrine in our national life. The alpha and omega of the type, to me, is the rape gangs themselves. For two decades in Rotherham, Rochdale, Telford, Oldham, Halifax and a dozen other places, the empirical observation that working-class girls, many of them in council care, were being raped in industrial quantities by organised groups of British-Pakistani men was systematically suppressed by police officers, social workers, council officials and Labour politicians who had been trained to read the world through the rationalist lens of community cohesion. The reality of the world contradicted the 'Big Idea', the all-important 'Big Idea'. And because the reality was so awful and the Big Idea much too nice, reality was denied, and every form of justice and restitution with it. This is your world, deconstructed. Your children will be fed to it and sacrificed on its altar, if that is what it takes that it be preserved. And we will not build ourselves back up in this country until we have, utterly and with great animus, divorced ourselves from this way of thinking that licks its lips at the sight of burning buildings and inclines all its hosts towards destruction. Almost every country on Earth that enjoys serious modern prosperity, security, freedom, technological genius and cultural stability got there by adopting the British framework. The States, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Singapore. Modi's economic policy, under which the majority of Indians seem to believe their lives are improving year-on-year, is patterned on British classics. Hong Kong was a prime example too before its strangulation by the neighbouring bully that, you might note, runs on a Continental model of total rational planning-by-command. Common law. Empirical science. Meritocratic civil service. Trial by jury. Open trade. Habeas corpus. Newton's method generalised across every domain of human enquiry. We invented all of it, and we shipped all of it. In a moment of weakness we let a pathogen into our intellectual nervous system. It has wreaked havoc, as it was designed to. It has changed us. It is against our moderate British natures to presume self-abasing evil intent in others, particularly if they are educated, but the intent thus is unmistakable in the authors of those ways of thinking. If it is time for a new system in Britain - and it undoubtedly is - then it is time for new thinking, as well.

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These marches, whoever likes it or not, represent the way that an awful lot of people in Britain feel about their country and who governs them. Because of this, there's a real ardent desire among the powerful and the privileged that the marches should conform to a few very nasty characters' very nasty opinions about them. And every time, so far, the people of Britain have refused to give them the satisfaction.
GB Politics@GBPolitcs

🚨NEW: The Met police say although arrests were made, the "Unite the Kingdom" rally proceeded largely without any significant incident

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"The system doesn't work." A cliché that has done something to very dimly light up about five decades of progressive decline in the institutional machinery of the West. In Britain alone, you could make the remark accurately of about three dozen different systems - the entrenched civil service, newly pledged to rebel against future governments it doesn't like; the planning system; defence procurement; our capitalist-command economy as a whole. But if you want to really fix a system, rather than just moaning about it, you need to understand it. And all systems begin with thought, the best and the worst. The ones that work are built on careful, high-calibre thinking. The ones that don't are built on muddled, incoherent thinking. There is often more thinking in a failed system than in a successful one. So when we find ourselves staring at this marvellously orchestrated mesh of systems that are all perfectly dysfunctional, and all seemingly perfectly attuned to accentuate dysfunction in each other, we have to ask ourselves: what's the thinking behind all the mess? If you ask that question about Britain as a whole, the answer, both ironically and - given Wes Streeting's parting waltz with the question of rejoining the EU - topically, actually takes you straight out of Blighty and over to the Continent. For three centuries the dominant tradition in British thought has been empirical, 'thought measured carefully against reality'. Piecemeal. Inductive. Meritocratic. We are a people wary of of grand systems and elegant total theories. Bacon, Locke, Hume, Smith, Burke, Mill, Russell - for any British reader these names mark out the operating method of a civilisation that learned to think with its hands as well as its head. I've been exploring exactly this in my ongoing "What is British Culture?" Substack series. Our tradition calls on us to observe, test, refine, discard what fails, and hand on what works to the next generation, slightly improved. The Common Law is built that way. So is Newtonian physics, Darwinian biology, the British surgeon's craft, the British engineer's workshop, every patient and stubborn act of construction to which this country has ever put its name. The empirical disposition is what made the modern world habitable; and it is, at the root, a builder's disposition. It is the greatest thing we have ever exported and, by measure of the safety, prosperity, and room for flourishing genius it and it alone has produced, it is probably the greatest thing anyone has ever exported. As close as we are to Europe in many ways, in this respect we are very different. Their tradition makes it clear. From Descartes through Hegel and Rousseau, on through Marx and at last into the postmodern wing of Foucault, Derrida and Deleuze, the Continental mind has preferred to build rationalist systems - diagrams of everything, often dreamt up by some clever bugger while he was sat in the bath - and then to flatten reality until it can be contained obediently inside them. The Continental thinker writes the schema first, and the world is asked to fit. When the world fails to fit, the world is what is wrong. Sometimes, there is an attempt to fix the world appropriately, in the course of which the continent is usually upended and 10s of millions of people die. The name for this operation in the seminar rooms changes every fifty or so years, but the operating system underneath is one machine. In the 1970s, when its French founders were still alive, the most recent (and, for our purposes, relevant) brand was known as deconstruction. By the time it had crossed the Atlantic and been wired into the American academy, it had become what you would know as critical theory, then critical race theory, then post-colonialism, queer theory, gender theory, standpoint epistemology, intersectionality, decolonisation, whiteness studies, and at last - packaged for the mass consumer - 'woke', the creed of our presiding Metropolitan class. The labels are interchangeable because the operation underneath is identical. You take any inherited truth - any moral norm, a legal principle, a scientific finding, a national history, even a category as workaday as "man" or "woman" - reframe it as the disguised expression of a power relation between an oppressor class and an oppressed one, discredit it by reference to that power, and then move on and do the same to the next one. The output, after fifty years run at industrial scale through every institution that mattered, is a country in which no inherited claim is any longer permitted to stand on its own evidence, because every such claim has been re-read and delegitimised as somebody's tool of domination. If you're looking for the reason - the real reason, the deepest-planted driving factor - behind Britain's past 30 Years of Hurt, you're now looking at it. Mired in post-imperial shame and philosophically vulnerable, we imported this ideology, and naturalised these ideas, wholesale, all across the British state over the past several decades. Look, and you'll find it everywhere. A Bristol jury acquits the four protesters who tore down the statue of Edward Colston, after judicial directions permitting it to weigh the political symbolism of the act against the laws of criminal damage; a deconstruction of property law in plain view. Lucy Connolly was sentenced to thirty-one months in prison for an angry tweet about the Southport killings, where privileged members of the governing class get lighter sentences for CSOs, a deconstruction of both the principle of rational justice and that of free speech, grouted together with old-fashioned in-group amoral familism. An entire generation of paediatric medicine has founded its practice partially on the deconstructionist premise that biological sex is a discretionary fiction. The canon which has formed the backbone of British cultural life, marginalised on pain of having been written by white men. And these are far from the most cataclysmic manifestations of deconstructivist doctrine in our national life. The alpha and omega of the type, to me, is the rape gangs themselves. For two decades in Rotherham, Rochdale, Telford, Oldham, Halifax and a dozen other places, the empirical observation that working-class girls, many of them in council care, were being raped in industrial quantities by organised groups of British-Pakistani men was systematically suppressed by police officers, social workers, council officials and Labour politicians who had been trained to read the world through the rationalist lens of community cohesion. The reality of the world contradicted the 'Big Idea', the all-important 'Big Idea'. And because the reality was so awful and the Big Idea much too nice, reality was denied, and every form of justice and restitution with it. This is your world, deconstructed. Your children will be fed to it and sacrificed on its altar, if that is what it takes that it be preserved. And we will not build ourselves back up in this country until we have, utterly and with great animus, divorced ourselves from this way of thinking that licks its lips at the sight of burning buildings and inclines all its hosts towards destruction. Almost every country on Earth that enjoys serious modern prosperity, security, freedom, technological genius and cultural stability got there by adopting the British framework. The States, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Singapore. Modi's economic policy, under which the majority of Indians seem to believe their lives are improving year-on-year, is patterned on British classics. Hong Kong was a prime example too before its strangulation by the neighbouring bully that, you might note, runs on a Continental model of total rational planning-by-command. Common law. Empirical science. Meritocratic civil service. Trial by jury. Open trade. Habeas corpus. Newton's method generalised across every domain of human enquiry. We invented all of it, and we shipped all of it. In a moment of weakness we let a pathogen into our intellectual nervous system. It has wreaked havoc, as it was designed to. It has changed us. It is against our moderate British natures to presume self-abasing evil intent in others, particularly if they are educated, but the intent thus is unmistakable in the authors of those ways of thinking. If it is time for a new system in Britain - and it undoubtedly is - then it is time for new thinking, as well.
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The British government has spent the last 20 years engaged in a quiet war against the price mechanism. What this means is that, rather than allowing prices to emerge naturally, the British government interferes with them. Why does this matter? Why is this not just abstract economics, but something that actively affects the quality of life you enjoy, and the amount of money you have in your pocket at the end of each month? Let's take a look. Energy first. Ofgem caps what your supplier can charge per unit and tops it up with a standing charge to keep the supplier solvent. Because every supplier is charging at or close to the cap, none of them is competing for your business. The cheap deals you used to switch to have stopped existing. You now pay £208 a year in standing charges before a single kilowatt-hour goes into your home, and you pay the capped rate on every unit after that. The cap was sold to you as a protection, but it is the highest rate available. Water bills are set, in their entirety, by Ofwat. Ofwat tells the privatised water companies what they are allowed to earn over a five-year window. The companies earn it, pay most of it out as dividends to their shareholders, and invest only what the rules force them to in the pipes. Your bill rises at above-inflation rates every cycle. Your sewage spills into the river every time it rains. There is no competitor for you to switch to, because the government licensed exactly one supplier in your area in 1989 and has not licensed another since. Rail fares are set by the Department for Transport. Every January for the last 20 years, the DfT has decided that the regulated-fare basket should rise faster than your wage. The train operators don't argue with them. They did not set the price; they just collect it, and they have no need to fight for your business because the price you pay is not negotiable. The annual season ticket from Reading to central London now costs around £5,800. In 2003 it cost £2,800. Unless you're one of the very lucky few, your wage, in the same period, has not doubled. Bus fares are subject to a £2 single-journey cap, soon to rise to £3, with the Treasury paying the bus company the difference between the cap and the rate they would otherwise have charged. You save cash at the bus stop; great! Well, until you realise you're paying the subsidy back through your tax. The unsubsidised rural route through your village has been cancelled, because the cap does not apply where there is nobody to pay it. Scotland and Wales decided cheap bottles of alcohol were a public health problem. So they made cheap bottles illegal, via a minimum unit price set by primary legislation. The same bottle now costs more. The drinking hasn't stopped. The bottle just got dearer. The extra £150 a year leaves the regular drinker's pocket and lands in the retailer's, or the Treasury's, or both. Childcare hourly rates in the funded-hours framework are set by the Department for Education at a level lower than the cost of providing the hour. So the nursery does one of three things: it closes, it refuses to take funded children, or it charges the non-funded parents triple to make up the difference. Working parents in London and the South East now pay £15,000 to £25,000 a year for a nursery place that, in a functional market, would cost a fraction of that. That's why in many parts of the country, the nursery has shut. NICE tells pharmaceutical companies the maximum the NHS will pay for a new medicine. The pharmaceutical companies look at the offer and decide whether to bring the drug to the UK at all. Britain is now consistently the last major Western country to receive new cancer therapies, immune treatments, and rare-disease medicines. That means you wait. That means your loved ones die earlier than they should. Your taxes still pay for the NHS that is taking longer to treat you. The new Renters' Rights Act, which came into force last week, stops landlords raising the rent above what a tribunal considers reasonable. Three things happen, in this order. The smaller landlords, with one or two flats, sell up, because the maths no longer works for them and managing a tribunal challenge is not what they signed up for; the supply of rentals contracts. The landlords who stay set the starting rent higher than they used to, because they cannot adjust it freely later; new tenants pay more from day one. The renters this was supposed to help find there are fewer flats available, and the ones that exist cost more. The Act was sold as a protection for tenants. Instead, it's just been YET ANOTHER transfer of wealth from people who do not own property to people who do! The minimum wage, which began life in 1999 at 47.5% of median earnings, now stands at approximately 67% of median earnings in lower-paid regions. The government meddles here by raising the floor every April. The employer cannot pay more on top of the rise, because his margins do not allow it. So everyone above the floor sees their hourly rate stand still. In Doncaster, the 22-year-old new starter and the 40-year-old supervisor with 15 years on the job now earn within a few pence per hour of each other. The floor has risen. The middle has collapsed onto it. No one has anywhere to go. The pattern is straightforward, once you get your head around it. The British government tries to cap, fix, distort, or otherwise manage every major price an ordinary British household encounters. Labour do it with a smile, but the Tories did it behind closed doors, too. Each intervention has its own surface justification. But the cumulative result is that the British economy in 2026 is, in price-formation terms, closer to the British economy of 1976 than the British economy of 1996 was. It means you're poorer, and that you pay more. But why is it happening like this? Because the British state has lost the institutional capacity to grow the productive base that would deliver lower prices through competitive supply. More stuff, made by more competent people, with the same amount of money in the economy (i.e. supply outpacing demand) makes it all cheaper for you. It's also happening because no one has the political confidence to address the spending side of the public ledger. What remains, when both growth and nation rebuilding are off the table, is price molestation. The pricing dial gets turned. The 'cheat code' is switched on. The bill arrives later, payable in shortages, everything-gets-crapper, no investment, and just one shit option for you every time you try to buy something. The truly remarkable thing about the war on prices is the consistency with which the political hoi-polloi subscribe to it. The Tories did it. Labour is doing it more aggressively. Reform MPs have, on the record, supported some of the same controls; they do not have the economic vision that would allow them to do otherwise. There is no major British political party that, as a matter of stated policy, is committed to unwinding the patchwork. That's one of the reasons something like Progress had to emerge. Just remember one thing that will serve you well wherever you go: the government cannot make things cheaper. It can only move where you pay for them. You can pay in cash at the till, or in tax to the Treasury, or in time on a waiting list, or in the bus that does not come, or in the cancer drug your mother cannot get, or in the rent on a flat the last landlord sold to a property fund. But the bill arrives. It always arrives. And the only way to shrink it is by turning Britain back into a country that builds, does, and makes things.
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On the 10th of April this year, the Ministry of Defence quietly announced that it was placing a substantial order for Skyhammer, a British-designed and British-manufactured air-defence interceptor system, with a small Cambridge company called Cambridge Aerospace. The first deliveries are taking place this month. May 2026. Less than five weeks from announcement to delivery, which, by the standards of British defence procurement, is approximately the difference between the full span of known geological time and...a tea break. The press release went out, according to specialist industry reporters, almost without any general media coverage. The major papers have run nothing of substance on the matter. The BBC ran, I think, a brief defence-segment item. The newspaper of record on this story has been the UK Defence Journal, a specialist publication run on a budget that would not cover the catering at one of MoD Abbey Wood's procurement strategy all-day do-nothing workshops. For most of the British public, the first they will hear of Skyhammer will be when one of them shoots down something in a future news report that the British public also did not know was coming. The Skyhammer itself is the kind of British engineering the country is producing more of than it probably realises, one of the slim but potent lights in the pelmet of dark tidings that seems to have us covered over. The interceptor is designed primarily for the drone-and-cruise-missile threat profile that has dominated every Western air-defence conversation since the opening of the war in Ukraine. The cost per intercept, on what is publicly known, is in the range of low five-figure pounds against incoming threats that frequently cost six or seven figures to manufacture and launch, which is the cost ratio that any proper air-defence economist will tell you is the only ratio that matters in the long term. For the sake of comparison, the American Patriot system, the standard Western interceptor, sits in the seven-figure-per-shot bracket against threats that cost a few thousand dollars to assemble. The economics, on Skyhammer, are an order of magnitude more favourable. The more interesting part of the story, however, is that the Ministry of Defence has shown what it is actually capable of when it puts its mind to being something other than completely useless. Five weeks from announcement to delivery is truly, deeply without precedent in the recent history of British def. The standard British def procurement runs in two-decade cycles: the Type 26 frigate, the Tempest, the Ajax, the Watchkeeper, the Wedgetail, the F-35B operational integration, the Sea Ceptor refits, all routinely measured in the time it takes a child to grow into a parent. They're delivered late and long after they've ceased to be state-of-the-art items. Skyhammer was procured at a tempo more recognisable from the period in the early 1940s when the country was building Spitfires, six a day, in a converted bus depot in Castle Bromwich, because our lives and the lives of all yet unborn on these isles depended on that pace. The institutional muscle is, evidently, still in the building. It's just generally being kept in the cupboard. The Skyhammer programme is, in this respect, the most interesting, and probably the best, MoD news of the year. It accidentally proved something the procurement profession has spent decades obscuring: that British defence procurement runs at speed when the political will exists, and at glacial pace when it does not. Now we all know that, likelihood being, the Skyhammer story is the counterfactual. For the next x years the rest of the story will show off the regression to the mean. But even though the wrong people are contesting the highest power in the land - even though the wrong team won at Wembley this afternoon - let's be optimistic; let's presume that someone with clout, and a well-earned-for-once feeling of satisfaction in their job, at the MoD is reading this. And let's let them know that, for all of Britain's sake, we need much, much, more of the same.
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"Our plan for the NHS is working." That was the Health Secretary, Wes Streeting, this week, announcing that the NHS waiting list had fallen by 515,000 since Labour took office in July 2024. There's a small problem with the figure - well, a large one, actually; no problem with Labour is ever a small one. According to data uncovered earlier this year, NHS England has been paying hospital trusts £33 per patient removed from the waiting list under "validation exercises". Between April and September 2025 alone, NHS England paid trusts £18.8 million for this work. That is roughly 570,000 patients removed in six months. In January 2026, the trusts struck a quarter of a million more off in a single month. The patients removed include those who chose to go private rather than wait, those who failed to respond to a text message, and those who died waiting. The half-million reduction in the waiting list since Labour took office is, on the arithmetic, fully accounted for by the validation deletions. But no one is getting treated. You know this. You've seen things in your NHS ward stand blandly still across this whole period. You've probably heard Streeting crow this nonsense and thought "Well, it's not bloody working for me, I'm still waiting." That's because, to our Health Secretary (and, unbelievably, perhaps our future PM), you, the patient, are but a mere incidental data point, my dear, and if Labour can pay NHS hospitals to delete your name from a list you belong on to serve themselves, they will. Rishi Sunak's government, to just about the only morsel of credit it it could reasonably command, actually vetoed an identical scheme on the grounds not that it was fundamentally dishonest but that it was paying the NHS for "doing something it should be doing anyway" and "artificially reducing" the waiting list. It merely illustrates a principle with which almost every voter in Britain is now familiar. As bad as the Tories were, Labour are even worse; for the voter, for the NHS, and for everything and everyone else.
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In a workshop on the outskirts of Bletchley (it had to be there, didn't it), on the 26th of March this year, a small British company called Pulsar Fusion did something that has not been done by any other company or government on Earth. It ignited a controlled plasma inside the test chamber of a working nuclear fusion rocket engine. The plasma held, along with the chamber. The fusion reaction was the kind of reaction that, contained inside a sufficiently engineered magnetic bottle, will one day take a crewed British vehicle to Mars in 30 days rather than 8 months, and that will, within the working lifetime of the engineers presently building it, make the outer planets of the solar system accessible to anyone with a British passport. The geography of the achievement deserves a longer moment of pause. Bletchley, in 1942, was where Alan Turing and his colleagues broke the Enigma cipher and almost certainly shortened the war in Europe by two years. Pulsar Fusion's headquarters sits roughly 600 yards from the Hut where they did it. The country that did the maths inside that hut has just, less than a mile down the road, ignited the plasma that could power the next century of human space travel. There is a continuity of British scientific lineage here that is, on the face of it, almost embarrassingly providential, and it is almost completely unreported in the British press. It's not quite Kitty-Hawk-to-the-moon in 61 years, but it's close. Like so many great companies of profound importance, Pulsar Fusion is pretty small. It was founded in 2013, and employs around 50 staff. Its chief executive, Richard Dinan, is a working British physicist who has spent the last decade quietly assembling the team and the capital to do what the world's national space agencies have been promising for 60 years and consistently failing to deliver. The competing American programmes, principally at NASA's Glenn Research Center and at the Princeton Plasma Physics Laboratory, are years behind on the propulsion side. The competing Chinese programmes are obscure but, on what is known publicly, also behind. The European Space Agency is, as ever, organising a workshop. Pulsar fired its plasma in March and has been preparing the next-stage tests in the months since. What this kind of capability means, when commercialised, is genuinely vast. The economic argument for getting a payload to Mars in 30 days rather than 8 months is not principally about the human passengers, though there is one. It is about cargo. Given a 30-day transit, Mars becomes a logistically tractable destination for the kind of infrastructure-build that turns it from a flag-planting science mission into a working industrial site. The argument for the outer planets is even larger. The asteroid belt alone, on conservative mineralogical estimates, contains more economically viable platinum-group metals than the entire crust of the Earth has been mined for in industrial history. The first country with reliable fusion propulsion is the first country with reliable access to that supply. The country that holds that capacity, fifty years from now, will be holding the most consequential industrial advantage of the 21st century, and there is no obvious second prize. The standard British response to this kind of thing is to either ignore it entirely, sell the company to an American buyer at series B (the DeepMind path) for fire-sale prices, or fund it at the level of a Whitehall departmental tea and coffee budget (the Skycutter and Orbex paths). The standard British response will not be sufficient. Pulsar Fusion needs the kind of patient capital that turns a working demonstration into an operational engine, and that, in turn, into a manufacturing capability. The British state, on present form, is structurally incapable of providing it, British pension funds are structurally incapable of investing in it, and the British political class will, on present form, only notice if it somehow manages to swing a leadership election. I wantt= Pulsar Fusion treated as a national-strategic asset, and beyond that as a potential subject of national destiny. The Sovereign AI Fund that backed Ineffable Intelligence has a clear template. The Prosperity Zone programme we designed at Progress that anchors heavy industry at SaxaVord and Teesside has the geographic flexibility to include a fusion-propulsion cluster in Buckinghamshire, six miles from the most evocative site in modern British scientific history. The procurement architecture of every major British defence and space agency should, from this autumn, be writing offtake contracts contingent on Pulsar's milestones. There's nothing extreme about these ideas. We could have been doing it decades ago. I always conceived of Britain as being as much among the stars as it is on Earth. To buy into the idea of Britain as a culture and polity is necessarily to buy into the concept of the human being as an illimitable force. Our history is littered with happy instances of people of great fortitude hitting upon obstacles and, with a cry of "This will not stop us", clearing the way for our brothers and sisters to follow through. A small British company in Bletchley has, while nobody was looking, extended that arm of our tradition, by accomplishing one of the most important pieces of scientific engineering of the decade. The country that produced them is, in a measurable sense, the same country that produced the Bombe, the Colossus, the jet engine, the structure of DNA, and the World Wide Web. The capacity is intact. The political class capable of recognising it must catch up, and will.
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Henry Nowak, 18 years old, an accountancy and finance student at the University of Southampton, was walking home from a night out with his football team in the early hours of December 3rd last year. He was on Belmont Road, Southampton, sending Snapchat videos to his friends. He was a few minutes from his accommodation when the man now charged with his murder, Vickrum Digwa, 23, stepped into his path with a 21-centimetre shastar, a Sikh ceremonial weapon longer and more lethal than the kirpan that satisfies religious obligation and is permitted under UK law. A substantially larger ceremonial blade, which Digwa had chosen to bring out onto the streets of an English city centre on a Tuesday night. Digwa is captured on phone footage saying, before he stabbed Henry to death, "I'm a bad man." Three words, recorded. The prosecution put them to the court last Thursday, so that the jury heard them in his own voice. This is the evidence the trial has so far produced. The detail that has, since the trial opened, given the country pause is what happened after Henry had been mortally wounded. The police arrived. Digwa, the man with the eight-inch blade and the recorded admission, told them that he had been the victim of racial abuse from Henry. On the basis of that single uncorroborated claim, made by the man who had carried and used the deadly blade, the police placed handcuffs on Nowak, who at that point was dying on the pavement. Handcuffed. While bleeding to death. On the order of the man who, it seems clear, is his murderer. It's hard not to rehearse paragraphs like that because you keep running aground on the specifics. An English teenager has been stabbed, by an attacker still standing over him with the weapon. The attacker accuses the victim of racism. The police, presented with the man holding the eight-inch blade and the boy bleeding from his wounds, choose to cuff the boy. This is Britain. There is a pattern here that does not require additional explanation. The grooming gangs in Oldham went uninvestigated for the better part of fifteen years because the local council leadership, presented with the evidence, prioritised the embarrassment of certain communities over the safety of the children. The Manchester Arena bomber was known to MI5. The Reading park stabber, Khairi Saadallah, was on a Prevent watchlist. The Southport killer was on a Prevent watchlist. Henry Nowak's attacker carried an eight-inch ceremonial sword that the British state, by religious exemption, has decided to overlook. The pattern is that British policing and British prosecuting and British intelligence services, presented with the choice between offending one of a number of recognised sensitivities and protecting the public from a specific danger, have for the better part of two decades chosen consistently in one direction. And if you die for the sake of their ability to continue to maintain their social graces, then that's ok. To them, a Henry Nowak is just the unfortunate price that must be paid. The defence at trial will argue that Henry was the racist aggressor, and that Digwa was defending himself with a weapon legally carried under religious exemption. The jury will weigh the evidence. The phone footage will be played. The handcuff decision will not be revisited at trial, because the police are not on trial. The police never are. I used to be pro-blue. When the world decided to turn against the police in the aftermath of certain events we all saw over the last several years, I defended them as the most self-evidently essential pillar of any civilisation. They are the men and women who stand by at night, willing to do what is necessary so that you can sleep soundly in your bed. That's what I said then, and in principle I still understand it now. But I am not pro-blue anymore. I am not pro these blue. Who are these people? How did these frauds secure their station? Who gave them the authority to impersonate defenders of the realm, which after all is itself a crime, a moral crime? Where are the voices of outrage among their number? Who among them is disgusted enough about what's being done to the badge to risk their pension? And if they put the pension above the badge, how can they ever have been said to have deserved the badge to begin with? What I can't get away from in this case is what Henry's last conscious moments must have been like. 18, just at football. Snapchatting. Attacked by a stranger, stuck with a sword. The suffering, the humiliation. You're on the ground. You know you're dying. The plod stood above you knows it too. He has the power over your last moments of mortal life. He chooses to subject you to the compound humiliation of a wrongful arrest as your final act on Earth. The country will remember this. I certainly will.
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Maxi@AllForProgress_·
Cardiovascular mortality among British adults under 65 has been rising every year since 2019. This is the first sustained reversal of a 60-year trend. From the late 1960s, when statins, ACE inhibitors, beta-blockers, modern cardiology, and the slow decline of smoking began to compound, CVD mortality in working-age Britons fell by approximately two-thirds. That decline was one of the great public-health achievements of the post-war era. It is now going backwards. A BMJ analysis published this month puts the working-age CVD mortality rate above its 2018 level. The trend is not a statistical artefact. Multiple datasets converge. The cardiology profession has been quietly raising the alarm for two years. The drivers, in honest order of contribution, are these. First, demographic shift, which accounts for roughly a third of the rise. Two effects operate. The under-65 cohort is itself older than it was in 2019, because the population is ageing; even within a fixed age-band, the mix shifts toward the older end. The larger demographic effect is composition. South Asian-origin Britons carry approximately 50% higher coronary heart disease risk than the white British baseline at equivalent age, on a well-documented pattern of insulin resistance, central adiposity, and elevated lipoprotein(a). Black African and Caribbean populations have substantially higher rates of hypertension and stroke. The share of these groups in the UK working-age population has grown materially since 2019, in part through net migration patterns concentrated in the 20-50 age band. When the aggregate CVD mortality rate is reported without ethnic decomposition, as the BMJ paper reports it, the changing population mix moves the headline number even if individual-group rates are flat. This is a real factor. It is also a factor the British medical-academic literature has become institutionally reluctant to decompose, out of nothing but what you'd suppose is mild social embarrassment, which is one of a couple of reasons why the public conversation about working-age CVD mortality has felt mysterious when it should not. Second, the post-COVID cardiovascular legacy, which accounts for perhaps 15 to 20% of the rise. The evidence is now reasonably settled: even mild COVID-19 infections produce measurable cardiovascular damage, particularly endothelial inflammation, in a meaningful fraction of cases. With a population that has had two or three infections each since 2020, the population-level cardiovascular load is materially up. Third, the NHS service collapse, which accounts for perhaps another third. Cardiology waiting lists sit above 350,000. Routine GP-level blood-pressure and lipid management has materially deteriorated since 2020. Diabetes detection and management, a major CVD precursor, has degraded. Statin uptake is down. Cardiac rehabilitation services have shrunk. None of these is a small effect. The combined weight is a public-health failure unprecedented in the post-war era. Fourth, the lagged consequences of the British obesity epidemic, which accounts for the residual. 60% of UK adults are now classified as overweight or obese. Type 2 diabetes prevalence has roughly doubled in two decades. CVD outcomes operate on 15-25 year lags from the underlying metabolic damage. We are now harvesting the lipid profiles that began their slow ruin in the mid-1990s. The honest summary, then, is that British working-age CVD mortality is rising because the British state has, simultaneously, allowed the NHS to deteriorate at the cardiology-and-primary-care level, refused to address an obesity epidemic three decades in the making, presided over a pandemic legacy it has not adequately accounted for in health planning, and shifted the working-age population composition without commensurate adjustments to clinical pathways and prevention messaging. Each of these is a policy decision, taken consciously or by default. Each can, in principle, be addressed by an able government. But cardiology has not been a Cabinet priority under any administration since the early 2000s. The obesity strategy has been promised by every Health Secretary since 2010 and delivered by none. The post-COVID cardiovascular legacy has been treated, in NHS planning, as a footnote. The demographic-composition-and-clinical-pathways question is not a question any Department of Health official will be promoted for raising. The result is the kind of statistical reversal that, in a country with a functioning institutional response, would be a national emergency. In ours, it has appeared as a single paragraph in the BMJ and disappeared because everything else is too much in the shit for this item to even stand out on the register. This is the natural product-output of countries suffocating themselves to death: 60-year public-health miracle is going backwards in five. A lifetime of progress, undone in roughly the time between two Olympics. The political class is unable and unwilling to discuss honestly what is causing it. The patients are dying at home and in ambulances stuck outside hospitals that no longer have the cardiology capacity to admit them. The country was promised, by the post-war settlement, that the institutional architecture built between 1948 and the 1990s would protect them from exactly this. The architecture is collapsing, the protection is gone, and no one currently in office is willing to say the things that would be required to rebuild either.
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Maxi@AllForProgress_·
Here's something you didn't bargain for among the gloom. Britons are going back to church. Monthly church attendance among British 18-24 year-olds rose from 4% to 16% between 2018 and 2024. Among white men aged 18-34, the figure has gone from 3% to 18%. Bible sales are up roughly 87% across the same window. The hashtag #ChurchTok had over 50 million views on TikTok in 2024 alone. These figures come from the Bible Society's 2025 research, christened, by people who knew what they had found, the Quiet Revival. They are contested. Humanists UK, looking at the British Social Attitudes Survey, argues that the overall direction of British religious affiliation is still downward and that the Quiet Revival numbers reflect methodological choices. The British Social Attitudes Survey is not wrong; long-term affiliation across the population is still declining. What the Bible Society has measured is the religiosity of the cohort that I suspect is going to be central to the affairs of the nation over the coming 25 years. Of the people I'm aware whose churchgoing has increased in recent years, almost all of them are: - Unusually intelligent - Unusually successful - Unusually full of love for their country and concern for its present course That cohort, which is pairing its material success with a profound search for, and desire for connection to, a source of national-ancestral meaning, is moving in the opposite direction to the population as a whole. The most extraordinary line in the data is the white-British-male one. From 3% monthly church attendance to 18% in six years is, in the technical term, a sixfold increase. There is no recent precedent for it. There is no obvious sociological model for it either. The young men of England, the cohort the Metropolitan class press has spent a decade lambasting, defaming, and writing off - as dangerous, as lost, as otherwise finished - are walking into Anglican parish churches, Catholic Masses, and evangelical free churches in numbers that have not been seen in Britain since the 1960s. The supporting evidence is broad. Anglican seminary applications are up. Catholic conversions among the British-born under-30 are at levels last seen in the post-war revival. Bible engagement among 18-24s has risen faster than for any older cohort. Plant churches in the inner cities are full on a Sunday morning in a way the parish system has not been full in 50 years. The Cambridge ordination figures show the largest cohort of new ordinands since the 1980s. None of this is a single survey to be dismissed. It is a convergent signal from a dozen independent monitoring streams. The political implications of this, properly understood, are great. The single most reliable predictor of conservative political behaviour across modern Western democracies is religious practice. The cohort the British political class has spent the last decade describing as the most progressive in history is, on the quiet, becoming the most religious cohort to come of age since the 1950s. The political consequences will land somewhere in the 2030s. The political class that staked its entire model on the assumption that the under-35s would secularise into permanent left-liberal monoculture has, on the present data, been incorrect. The deeper question is why. The honest answer is that nobody has a confident answer yet. The plausible candidates are: - The visible spiritual bankruptcy and cultural impotence of secular materialism - The social-media-driven hunger for content that takes serious questions seriously (the #ChurchTok phenomenon was driven not by Millennials by 18-year-olds who could not find a certain meaning, a certain elevation, a certain starting customs set, that they were looking for in the standard online discourse) - The search for community in a culture in which community has been dismantled (this, in my experience, is the big catalyser of a return to faith but is not what keeps people coming back) - The simple intellectual fact that the New Atheism of the 2000s has, on the merits, lost its argument with the philosophers and historians who actually engage with the question. We are untold phases of development as a race short of being able to answer the universal 'Why?' To suggest otherwise is and was a pretence, offered by men whose intellectual calibre may have seemed high by the standards of the turn of the Millennium, but who have otherwise shown themselves cheap (as Dawkins did the other week when his monumental vanities were turned into puppet theatre by the instance of Claude with which he has fallen in love). What can be said with confidence is what this cohort represents for Britain's prospects. A country in which the most ridiculed generation in living memory is, on the quiet, rebuilding the institutional architecture (worship, marriage, community, intergenerational responsibility, the moral seriousness political life depends on) that the older cohorts decided was unfashionable, is a country with more recovery available to it than the present political class has noticed. The 18-year-old walking into a parish church for the first time in May 2026 is the same 18-year-old who, ten years from now, will be running the GP practice, the engineering firm, the trading desk, the small business, the parish council. They will bring with them an institutional intuition, a living contact with the historical lineage of these isles, that the people currently running them have lost; people who, though they know it not, hurt for this loss. The Quiet Revival is one of the most heartening single datasets, and integrated phenomena, in British public life, easily on par with London's AI hubbery or recent upticks in political entrepreneurialism. The political class has not yet noticed it. Like everything interesting, like everything useful and worthwhile, it is not for them.
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Maxi@AllForProgress_·
The most under-reported announcement in British technology this month is a small one. A new AI company, Ineffable Intelligence, has been founded by David Silver, until last year head of reinforcement learning at Google DeepMind and the man whose work built AlphaGo and AlphaZero. The British government's Sovereign AI Fund is co-investing. The headquarters will be in London. The premise is the one that has been promised for a decade and consistently underdelivered on: AI that produces new knowledge, rather than recompiling the knowledge already on the internet into a slightly more confident-sounding version of itself. We have so far been neither under- nor overwhelmed by the AI Revolution. The sector has, on the public-facing evidence of the last five years, mostly produced more of the marginal gains that defined the tech sector in the easy-money era. Great productivity chargers for technical professionals, sophisticated auto-completes, but not the industrial revolution promised, not yet. Likewise, the promised drug-discovery revolution has not, on any user-facing scale, arrived. The promised end of routine clerical drudgery has, to some end, returned a problem to replace the one it solved, by introducing a new layer of having to check whether the AI has invented the facts in the document you have just been sent. The case for Ineffable Intelligence, and the reason it is worth a country paying attention to, is that one strand of AI development has, quietly, delivered on its promises. AlphaFold, the same Silver-adjacent line of work, solved the protein-folding problem in 18 months in 2020-21. Half a century of structural biology had produced the 3D structure of roughly 200,000 proteins by painstaking experimental work; AlphaFold predicted the structure of 200 million in a year. Multiple drugs currently in clinical trials, several for diseases that had defeated conventional medicinal chemistry for decades, are downstream of that single piece of work. This is what AI is for, and what AI is capable of, when the question being asked of it is the right question. The pipeline of things an Ineffable-class capability could plausibly unlock, in the order an ordinary person would care about them, is concrete. The first genuinely new class of antibiotics since the 1980s, at a moment when antimicrobial resistance is on track to kill 10 million people a year globally by 2050. Targeted cancer therapies tied to protein-structure insights, on the same template AlphaFold has already enabled. Battery chemistry breakthroughs sufficient to make the EV and grid-storage transition actually work. Material-science advances that allow housing to be built more cheaply, infrastructure more lightly, and aircraft more efficiently. Drought-resistant crops. Plasma control routines for the fusion reactors the UK government has, on paper, committed to. Each is the kind of breakthrough that, in the 20th century, won Nobel prizes and rebuilt economies. This is good stuff. The relevant historical analogy is the moment in 2014 when Google bought DeepMind for £400 million and moved it to Mountain View. That sale, looking back on it now, was the most strategically expensive acquisition in modern British history. The country that produced the algorithm that taught a machine to play Go gave away the company that would, within ten years, become the most valuable AI lab on Earth. The proceeds went to the founders. The capability went to California. The next generation of British students who might have worked there, instead of contributing to the British research base, now contributes to Alphabet's. Ineffable Intelligence is the chance, somewhere between rare and unique, for the British state to ensure the same mistake is not made twice. The Sovereign AI Fund is a serious instrument. The British Business Bank is a serious co-investor. The Silver-led team is, by any honest reading, the most likely British AI venture of its decade to produce a foundational result. Whether the country still has the institutional muscle to keep it here at series B, series C, and IPO is the open question. British institutions ought to be treating this single corporate trajectory as a priority of state. The patient capital it will need at scale must be available from sovereign sources, from British pension funds (currently invested at under 5% in domestic equities, the subject of a previous piece of mine), and from a tax and regulatory regime that does not punish founders for staying in the country that produced them. The procurement architecture of the British state must be willing to buy the products that emerge, at scale, from year one. The country that built the algorithm that solved protein-folding ought, on balance, to be the country in which its commercial descendants live and pay corporation tax. Britain has had several rare shots at owning the foundational technology of the past 2 or 3 generations. The country has, on the public record, lost most of them, not so much by being beaten out but by giving them up without a fight. Ineffable Intelligence is our latest last-chance. The next 24 months will tell us whether the lesson of the DeepMind sale has been learned, or whether it is going to be repeated with a slightly different logo on the door.
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Maxi@AllForProgress_·
Fifteen minutes in Burslem, on a Sunday afternoon in May, is one of the most instructive ten minutes a Southerner can spend in modern England. The Wedgwood Institute, opened in 1869, stands at the top of the high street as a wing of the Royal Society made municipal: terracotta panels of the months of the year, Della Robbia plaques in the spandrels, a Latin inscription over the door. It is shut, and has been shut for years. The Market Place that sat below it has lost most of its retail. The chains have decamped to Hanley, three miles down the road, where the city centre nominally lives now. The bottle kilns that visitors come to photograph stand on the skyline like a row of brick teeth somebody forgot to remove. There used to be roughly 4,000 of them across the Potteries. There are now 47. They are not, on the present trajectory, going to be replaced. This is the Mother Town, where Josiah Wedgwood opened Etruria Works in 1769 and turned a Staffordshire valley into the global supplier of fine tableware for 150 years. Wedgwood's daughter was Robert Darwin's wife; their grandson was Charles. Wedgwood the man invented modern marketing as a side project; Wedgwood the firm sold tea services to the Empress of Russia, to George III, and to most of the embassies of the Continental powers. The town that produced them now sells, in its working hours, the memory of having produced them, on a heritage trail with a leaflet and a series of plaques explaining what used to happen here. The federation of the six towns in 1910 (Burslem, Hanley, Tunstall, Longton, Fenton, and Stoke-upon-Trent) produced a city built around a single industry of genuinely world-class capability. At its peak the Potteries employed somewhere north of 70,000 people in ceramics; the present figure is in single digits of thousands. The collapse of Waterford Wedgwood in 2009 sent most of Wedgwood's production to Indonesia, where it remains. Royal Doulton's main production line had already moved to Indonesia in 2005. Spode collapsed in 2008. The brands continue. The Staffordshire works that built them are largely closed. The shop windows of Burslem now display black-and-white photographs of what the town used to look like, of the kind towns put up when they cannot face what they look like now. The standard explanation is globalisation, but that is only part of the story. Bavaria still makes tableware. Limoges still makes porcelain. Indonesia is cheaper for everyone; the question is what the state in each country has done about that. The French state regards the porcelain industry of the Haute-Vienne as a strategic cultural asset and treats it accordingly. The British state regarded the ceramic industry of Staffordshire as a commercial property to be reallocated or fire-sold and treated it accordingly. A long chain of specific decisions in Whitehall, in the City, and in the boardrooms of the holding companies that acquired the historic firms made the offshoring economic. Other countries made different decisions about firms in their own back yards. The result is visible from any one of the 47 surviving bottle kilns. A reasonable objection is that the world has moved on, and that Britain cannot expect to produce tableware for the global market. But the fact is that Britain cannot expect produce...anything on the global market, given the present industrial cost base, and that is the real point. Industrial electricity in the UK runs at roughly four times the level paid by US manufacturers and substantially above the German equivalent. Planning consent for a new ceramics works takes years. The procurement architecture of the British state, which buys most of the crockery used in NHS canteens, MoD messes, and royal occasions, does not particularly prioritise British-made ceramics. The Labour government's contribution to these conditions, in the 10 months it has held office, has been to leave each of them exactly where it found them, while spending whatever time was left over arguing with itself over which of its own ministers should be the one to replace its own Prime Minister. What Stoke has not lost is the skill memory of half a millennium of ceramic craft, the architectural heritage of the six towns, and a population of people who still know what serious work in this sector looks like. That doesn't mean the knowledge tradition is immune to dying out, no knowledge tradition is - even steelworking in Britain is going to way of stonemasonry. And the sector itself has moved on too. Ceramics in 2026 is a high-temperature materials industry, with applications in aerospace components, medical implants, semiconductor substrates, and battery technology; the same skills, capital-intensified, find work in markets that the present Staffordshire economy does not yet supply. The town that produced Reginald Mitchell, the designer of the Spitfire, ought to be entirely capable of producing the next generation of high-performance British engineering. It is currently producing redundancies and, on occasion, tweets like this one. Not much else. A British government with vision, faced with a town like this, would embrace the underlying opportunity, and get building. Industrial-grade electricity at competitive rates. Fast-track planning for new ceramics works. State procurement of British-made ceramics for the canteens of the state itself. The same recipe Josiah Wedgwood used in 1769, applied with modern materials science and patient capital, in a country that has finally decided its industrial towns are worth a fight.
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Maxi@AllForProgress_·
We have a tax rise every ten days, on average, since Keir Starmer formed his government. There were 24 of them in the November 2025 Budget alone. Each one is a separate decision, made by a separate set of ministers, signed off through a separate set of Treasury submissions. They have, collectively, raised more than £40 billion a year by the end of the decade. Each one of them is, in its way, a confession. Let's take a look at four of the fullest. The Employer National Insurance hike is forecast to raise £25.7 billion a year. The rate went to 15%, the secondary threshold dropped to £5,000. A tax on the act of employing a British worker, sold as a tax on businesses. The Office for Budget Responsibility's own modelling, which the Chancellor signed off, predicts that the cost will be passed on to workers in the form of lower wage growth and slower hiring. The party showing, once again, that it's name is short for "(We Hate) Labour". Then the freeze on personal tax thresholds will pull, by the end of the decade, £8 billion a year out of the pay packets of working Britons without any of them being told their income tax has gone up. This is good old Sunak-era Tory doctrine. Because Labour are no different from the Tories, except on the grounds that they are perhaps even more derelict and vituperative, they kept it. Of course, a government with the courage of any conviction at all would have either reversed the freeze and replaced the revenue through spending reform, or told the country in plain English that personal income taxes had to rise and made the case for why. Instead, they put their hand in your pocket. The new National Insurance treatment of salary sacrifice pension contributions will raise £4.85 billion a year. It does so by penalising one of the few mechanisms that still exists in British public policy for getting working-age adults to save towards their own retirement in pension instruments outside the deteriorating reach of the state pension. In the same Budget in which the Chancellor told the country that the welfare bill could not be sustained at its present trajectory, she introduced a tax that disincentivises the precise behaviour that reduces future welfare-state demand. The contradiction is internal to the budget itself. The Capital Gains Tax hike will raise approximately £2.5 billion a year. It targets, among other things, business asset disposal relief and investor relief, the schemes that exist to reward the small minority of British adults who have spent a working life building a business and would, in a less distrustful political culture, be allowed to dispose of it without the state taking a cut on the way out. The hike will raise short-term revenue and reduce, by a multiple of that amount, the rate at which future businesses are founded and sold inside the UK rather than in jurisdictions that have learned the lesson Britain has not. The Treasury will have its £2.5 billion. The next generation of Skycutters will quietly go to Texas. This is the pattern. Faced with a fiscal problem, the British Treasury reaches for the nearest base it has not already stolen from, raises the rate on it, books the revenue, and moves on. The problem the revenue was supposed to address remains; the revenue funds it for one more year. These people will steal the fruits of decades of your sweat, toil, and (yes, even) labour just to keep the jaws of their client groups shut for another couple of days. The four taxes above raise only £41 billion, and the incentives they produce will decimate the future base from which further taxes could be drawn. This is the same Treasury that cannot identify a comparable sum of unproductive spending across £1.23 trillion of annual public outlay, despite the existence of a £391 billion arm's-length budget that no minister can see, a procurement architecture that pays consultancies for work that is never delivered and is egregious shite when it is, and a welfare bill that has grown by more than the entire NHS budget across a single decade. The institutional capacity to grow a productive base is a joke. The capacity to shrink an unproductive one has never existed. What's left? The capacity to raise rates, and it is being exercised once ever 10 days. A serious approach to each of these problems begins elsewhere on the ledger. The Employer NIC hike answers a £25.7 billion question that should not have been a question in the first place, in a country where industrial energy costs four times the American level, where planning consent for new commercial premises runs into years, and where productivity has been flat since 2008. Fix any of those and the £25.7 billion appears in the form of an expanded payroll base paying tax at unchanged rates. The threshold freeze answers a real-wage stagnation problem that would not exist in a country whose economy was growing at OECD-average rates. Restore growth and the freeze becomes unnecessary. The salary-sacrifice raid answers a long-term pensions-system question that should be answered by expanding private pension provision. The Treasury chose to suppress it instead. The CGT hike answers a wealth-distribution question that would be settled by a tax regime that distinguished, as the better systems in the world distinguish, between productive entrepreneurial gains and passive asset-price inflation. None of these substitutions is exotic. But you have to be a bit brighter, have a bit of something about you, to know any of this. Always remember, when you're assessing someone for their quality, that the truly competent are not just better at solving problems than the average. They are much better at eliminating superfluous problems entirely. A Treasury that knew its work would, faced with a £41 billion revenue gap, ask first what made the gap that size in the first place, and address that. The Treasury we have, run by the Chancellor we have, under the Prime Minister we have, asks instead who it can nick a few bob from.
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Maxi@AllForProgress_·
My latest (and indeed my first) for Spiked Online is on the never-ending nightmare of political abandonment, wage depression, and broad stagnation in the post-industrial North: Doncaster, Sunderland, Wigan, Burnley, Huddersfield, Middlesbrough. Towns where the minimum wage now stands at 80% or more of the median local salary, where fifteen years of experience and the man who walked in on Monday are paid roughly the same. Towns whose condition has been chalked off as a kind of unavoidable force of nature by generations of politicians who don't have the equipment to get a few productive concerns started up and a few dials moved. The abandonment of vast swathes of our people in what used to be the country's beating heart is, to me, one of the most important arguments running in British political life, and one of the closest to the centre of what we founded Progress for. The country we want to build starts in the towns most written off in the present arrangement. The latent ability in Burnley and Sunderland and Stoke and Hartlepool has not gone anywhere. The recipes that recovered South Korea, Singapore and post-war Bavaria from worse positions than this are well-documented, unexotic, and well within the British state's gift to apply. It is going to happen. The only questions are when, and which government has the nerve to begin. It won't be this one. It probably won't be the next one. But it will come, and it will come soon. When it does, we will see the limitless torpor and frustration which the people who live in these places reasonably feel explode into new life and stunning enterprise. My thanks to @hwctimms and the editorial team at Spiked for commissioning. More to follow.
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