Big Fiction by Dan Sinykin (2023)

 This is subtitled How Conglomeration Changed the Publishing Industry and American Literature. It's part of a series called Literature Now, published by Columbia University Press in New York, which is about literary culture in the late 20th / early 21st centuries. It occupies a space, though, between the academic and the general. There is relatively little footnoting and any theory in it is broadly scoped. Sinykin traces the advent and development of conglomeration in publishing, starting right back with Random House buying Knopf in 1960. Publishing back then was defined in terms of discerning owners and editors regulating taste and exposure through their own enthusiasms, with sales performance used only as an excuse for rejection, and "poorly-performing" favourites still maintained on lists. Then bottom lines and business started their takeover. Now, 60 years later, we have Penguin Random House as 50% of the market if not more, along with four others, and bottom lines insisted upon as not only a key element which it is taken for granted all will obey, but an authorial consideration too. Ditto social media. Basically it's the story of neoliberalism applied to the book world. The main gist, and main recommendation, is historical. He splendidly traces the central players in the saga, who was hired when, and for what reasons, who (editor and writer) had successes with books we all know and why, and how all this was interpreted at the time and subsequently. He is an academic, though, and so smidgins of it creep in from time to time, not altogether impressively. Early on there's one of those classic baggy mentions of how "sameness and difference" echo through these various themes. As well say that "light and darkness" pattern the temporal milieux of the fictions discussed. His thesis is that conglomeration caused not only the folks in publishing to think differently (bottom lines and business) but also authors' thinking being influenced, directly and by osmosis. On the whole I get this, but have a few nags: was it not there in the background always? Was it not simply supercharged by neoliberal dollars-concerns? I'm thinking of the trope of the writer who writes anything that sells, from pulps to Edgar Wallace. What proportion of anticipation was given to income in those cases, and what does it culturally represent? He also makes a case for the repurposing of genre as connected to conglomeration, even though this was set going long before. It's connected, but not a result, is my thinking. The result is the current strength of the thread, not its origin. It would be interesting to trace the joins between the world of publishing pictured very exclusively here and the broader progress of the neoliberal project, the even wider story. The word 'neoliberalization' is the only derivative which appears here, and not until page 210, so perhaps he's shying clear of political talk of that obvious kind, hoping to avoid a "leftie" tag? It's all there, but in other words. On the whole I'd say that the thesis is interesting, but not entirely convincing - bottom lines and business have always been round and about the publishing world, especially in larger houses. Perhaps a survey of publishing outside the United States would bring this into focus? But the current (last 50 years) concentration on it to the exclusion of much is definitely new, and yes, delusively seen as a democratisation. Ditto across all sorts of enterprise, cultural and otherwise. The history is fascinating, the book being worth it for that alone. 

Deep Wheel Orcadia by Harry Josephine Giles (2021)

 This is a poem, very broadly speaking. It's also, purportedly, a science-fiction novel. It's also two things in one, the original and its translation - the original being in Orcadian, the English translation, smaller, below. It's by someone who is non-binary. So it has quite a lot going on, which makes the next thing a little 'tremulous', perhaps: it won the Arthur C. Clarke award for its year. Did the judges see all the above and think a very simple "wow!" and hand it the prize? Because it is doing a lot, on the outside? For me, outsides have to match insides, which means this one really needed to be an amazing reading experience, and, of course, it wasn't. The danger would always be the oldun' of falling between stools, married with the niggle of tokenism. If this were just its Orcadian poem, it would be a slightly dull affair which comes quite a bit brighter in its last third. In the first two thirds there's a lot of musing and staring out of windows, and characters which don't deeply engage the reader, but hey, it's a poem, so the terms are different. Yes, but it's a narrative poem, so, again, we need to bring that characterisation/engagement dialectic back closer to the centre of expectation. Obviously, it's a poem by today's standards - there's no rhyme, and this is replaced by rhythm and a kind of spareness in the usual manner. I have lived in Shetland for a few years now, so my ear is becoming trained to Shaetlan and its rhythms and tonalities through daily exposure to native speakers. Orcadian is a tiny bit different, but not a lot, so reading the poem was not onerous, and I could always dip to the English below for explanation if something didn't twig. So, as a poem, middlingly OK. 'Attached' to that, the novel: by which, I think we're saying, the narrative part, which was the story of a group of characters aboard a space station, their current state of flux in terms of relationships, workish and attractional, and ambitions, realised majorly through their emotional resonances. In the last third a something occurs among the wrecks which the station houses which is associated with light, and becomes a fractal 'explosion'. In the blue light of the poem, and the musing characters, this is also two things at once - appropriate, and a bit vague. Novelistically, it would certainly be considered on the 'unresolved' side, most examples of which need to have a compensator-factor to be satisfying: magnificent writing, deep atmosphere, extraordinary rightness philosophically. I wouldn't say this achieves that. The original Orcadian, being Giles' natal language (I am assuming, anyway) has the quiet economic arrow of intention which makes it clear and resounding, the word-choice 'free'. But the English translation is another affair. There's a classic example on the first page: the Orcadian 'teddert' which would naturally translate as 'tethered' is rendered as 'ropemoormarried'. Examples then proliferate throughout the book. There could be a lot said about this - is it an attempt to make a political statement? "Orcadian's implications are so rich that we need to give all resonations"? If so, it frankly feels a bit needy. Or is it some sort of enthusiasm for the Joycean brought as a further plate to this feast? If so, the taste is "ick". Is it political in the sense of "we need to render the English such that it is a lesser experience so that the Orcadian is clear and masterful by contrast - LEARN ORCADIAN if you want to read this work well"? If so, hmmmmmm. Then why translate at all? At all events, I pity the person who feels uncomfortable with the Orcadian and is relegated to the English alone. This one, overall, is a typifying example of the danger of promising too much.

Happy-Go-Lucky by David Sedaris (2022)

 This is my first Sedaris. It's quite hard, on the whole, to be reading such a thing in the same period of time as one is working through The Letters of Katherine Mansfield! The contrast is educative, and yet expected. Sedaris' style is essentially an emanation of the "21st century" ethos in literature (though he got going a tiny bit earlier). It is chatty and genial. Lite. Like the stuff you would expect from a friend over a restaurant table, but can see wouldn't translate into print well, if by 'well' one meant impressively, and if by 'impressively' one meant not only having impact, but also being genuinely, deeply comic, which is I think the aim. He has a walloping reputation for humour, and maybe this really hits when he is seen on stage, but this book is just......fairly superficial in the main. At least that would have been my whole summary if I'd only read to page 162. But with the piece 'Fresh Caught Haddock' and a couple after there is a lean into more gravitas. I don't know whether this is a deliberate move: 'allow the reader to become used to being a little mollified and glazed, then hit them with some slightly harder stuff'? The 'slightly' is key there, too. While entering this new territory and speaking of his father's end, his sister's suicide, we are also still treated to material about his teeth and a turd on the floor in a deserted airport, which would be quietly interesting when discussed orally (haha) with a friend, but are a little thin-on in text. I guess the question which then arises is 'what is "suitable material"?' And I guess it's this, if you are thrilled and pleased by that kind of thing. I suppose I'm one of those who want more. Picking other books off the shelves at the time of reading, and feeling the wateriness here by contrast. I don't feel illuminated. I wonder if he'll become another of those humorists who have quite a big catalogue (a la Patrick Campbell, or a good number of mid-20th century magaziney Americans) who are very popular in their times, but who go completely out of print once their era is over? It's a trope which resonates.

Around the World in 80 Books by David Damrosch (2021)

 This feels very much like the literary critical equivalent of a coffee table book. Such books have interesting things in them, but the weight is with the illustrations; the text is often blandly secondary. This one has a few illustrations, yes, in quiet black and white, but it definitely is a little "lite" textually, which makes it somewhat unsatisfying. It is a 'journey' around the world, as the title suggests, looking at the literatures of various cultures exemplified in some of their major works. It is written by a professor of comparative literature who has, I presume, put on his populist hat to undertake the project. It's genial, I guess, not piercing or revelatory. Damrosch has the tendency of making personal asides about members of his family or his own personal history - meaning that we have a book which has a small element of memoir alongside its main informative strand. That frankly sits a little uncomfortably. One other thing to mention is the occasional tendency to the glib: summarising sentences for each section which are a bit pat, or referencing about significance which is anodyne and unchallenging. All of that said, it's yet another in the "OK" list, a bit uninspiring, but all right, I suppose.

Operation ARES by Gene Wolfe (1970)

 ARES is an acronym: American Reunification Enactment Society. This is the 21st century, seen from the mores of the late 1960s. America, once great, has been through a tough time. It even had a colony on Mars. Then things began to unravel, and they "let the colony go". An influential section of the US populace decided to set the constitution aside, and installed a Pro Tem government, which, instead of being a bandaid solution, remained. The Pro Temmers are ones who speak of the poor, the humble, the people, but often seem more concerned with power. This power-seeking/concern engenders rebellion, with small groups of isolated opposition surviving, tucked away or operating in secret. Our lead man, John Castle, is one of the more effective of these. He has friends and associates of a similar make and networks by which he can communicate with them. He and the woman he loves, young Anna Trees (and her neversleeper brother Japhet) are living in White City, an inland smallish hub, typical of this new America, with rundown streets, frightening nocturnal 'wild animals' that will sniff out and kill any human beings they can, and "peaceguards" (sometimes cyborgs) who are employees of the new administration in place to scent rebellion and keep the new order. The "Martians" have been trying to communicate with their old country, in order to bolster the opposition, but the Pro Tems are blocking their transmissions. They have just started to land in remote areas and begin to foment an insurrection, which John and Anna are caught up in. The scene shifts into a forced walking journey to New York, where John and his fellows, who have been captured, witness a Martian landing and a decimating battle on both sides. Finally in New York, while he overtly is cooperating with the Pro Tem, secretly he is making connections with others of a similar persuasion. All this while, ARES has been a designation which has pretty well meant instant death, and John has wondered exactly who is involved. But he does identify with the movement, as he has heard it is. He is often accused of being a member, but can honestly say he isn't. (I'm guessing Wolfe intends the "Reunification" to mean two things at least: reunifying all Americans under a restored constitution, and reunifying the Martian Americans with those who abandoned them.) Through his new New York connections, John now discovers that ARES is a shadow, more a threat by the opposition; it has no members and does not "Enact" anything, other than causing distraction and befuddling of the airspace. But his reputation for effectiveness means that he is given the chance to make this shadowthing real. Anna has come in and out of focus all this time, with occasional meetings between the two as they both become major players in the resistance. The plot culminates with matter that has been brewing all through the novel: the Pro Temmers are supported by communist Russia (prescience gone astray there) and the legitimists by communist China (unlikely also). There are more and more battles across the country in what is emerging as a war proper. There are powerplays behind the scenes as to how much support either side can rely upon from these 'benefactors'. There is the somewhat figurehead-like presence of the last "real" President, Huggins, who has been an influential point of belief in some resistance quarters. In the end both sides sue for a cessation, and John, risen to the top, and the Pro Tem president bargain out a deal for the future, which includes restoration of the constitution and other concessions on the opposition side, and, on the other, a chance for the Pro Tem president to run for real after the "reunification", which is in most essentials a restoration, happens. He will have no opposition from those who formerly opposed him under the terms of the deal. It is a slightly downbeat and even copout-ish ending. Also, there are elements in this which could have done with far greater time allotted: why are the wild animals so frightening? Japhet's never sleeping is hinted at as only one type among many dysfunctions, but what engendered them? What does Wolfe mean, near the end, when he speaks in the bargaining period, from John's point of view, of the opposition requiring an end to welfare payments because they are "bribing people not to work"? The fact that he then immediately suggests the solution to this 'problem' being the enactment of what is in effect a Universal Basic Income seems a little unhinged and illogical without some sort of guaranteed work programme. But this novel also functions as a superior thriller in many respects, with a sheen of science fiction about it, and some almost noirish elements creeping in on grim city streets left desolate, and in secret meetings. It has an underfeel of potential originality which I'm looking forward to seeing in its prime, fully-developed form in subsequent works.

Situation Clarification G

 Having established the idea of consultative democracy in this example, there comes the question of how it can be maximised. Given the relative freedom conferred by instituting the principles of Modern Monetary Theory, I would suggest a centrally paid hour every week for everyone, at the time most convenient for them in each period, where they "engage with their democracy". Mostly conducted online, perhaps, with special provision made for those who lack the skills, or lack the necessaries, to engage in this way. You watch a transparently-prepared digest of the expert debates in parliament on the week's issues and then indicate your preference. Your representative then takes these to the administration, acting basically like an enumerator would in a census. In all but the most basic way, you are representing yourself. Their denomination as a representative is purely functional.

If you don't engage, you don't get paid. But there would have to be, I think, some sort of continuing promotion of engagement as a healthy aspect for our system, aside from pay. The building of it, much like not smoking is today, or being vaccinated, or driving safely, etc etc, as a responsible course of action - seeing it as a virtue.

The separating out of this hour for these purposes each week opens up a large new vista. How might our week look, and how might our lives be arranged? There is another critical part of Modern Monetary Theory called the Job Guarantee. This essentially says that if you are unemployed the public system can employ you, and you can have a living wage as a result. It has been explained as "the system being the employer of last resort". I think that might be language to appease private employers, as I can well imagine that it could be preferred employment by those whom it benefits. Of course, someone who is more money-motivated, that is, wants more than just a living wage, probably won't find it appealing - they'll want to stay in the private sector. All well and good - let's keep everyone satisfied.

There is, after all, so much to be done. There are a lot of us, and we have all sorts of needs which need meeting. There's no question at all that we can occupy everyone who can work, all of the time. Our current system is not maximising this in any way. And we have the result of course: a starved, clogged and denuded public purpose. 

I would like to think of this as potentially a template for quite significant change in our ideas about work. Given that you are someone who either is currently unemployed, or equally wishes to positively join this new system of Job Guarantee by preference, there is potential for quite innovative measures. Does your guaranteed work have to be all in the one place? Could you not, in a co-ordinated way, develop a working life spread among all sorts of tasks, if that variety would make a difference to your quality of life? Mondays and Thursdays doing A, Tuesdays and Wednesdays B, and Fridays C? Is variety the spice of life? I can only say for me it is. But of course there may be many who would prefer to concentrate on the one thing, specialising in it. 'Each to their own' seems to be workable in this scenario. With the proviso that if we're low in numbers in any essential thing, all those who can make shift to help, even if it's not their preferred activity.

Of course the above applies to work that could be called "generally skilled". Anything that requires specialist knowledge would need to be arranged differently. Portering at a hospital may be generally skilled; doctoring and nursing definitely not. But, given that those individuals may have higher stress and responsibility, and presumably will also have general skills, I don't see any reason why they can't say "I love my work, but I would also love to take Wednesdays off to do something less stressful, just to ease the load". 

Thus begins a quiet revolution - 'designed working lives' inaugurates the idea that how we spend our lives can be manipulated by us to make us a little more fulfilled, whilst retaining the idea of responsibility to the whole of the rest of us to get things done.

Sterling Karat Gold by Isabel Waidner (2021)

 This is a fascinating cartoon. Basically a comic of alternative heroism. I'm not all that much into all the new politics of the non-binary, though I would on principle support it when confronted with human beings who expect respect, which seems fair! What Waidner is doing here is setting up a fantastic scenario: a non-binary central character and their non-binary friend, who are residents of a Camden estate, and indulge in performance art-ish happenings, are in the mix of the area with various others, binary and not so. The bomb of the action is set off by "bullfighters" who (what can we call it?) "contend with" the central character on the street. This will indicate the remove at which events are described here. I think it can be read as an attack, and the assumption can be made that they are street yobs who have a go at someone who is different. But of course in the language of this piece there is a choreographed quality to how it's presented, and a slight separation from reality. From this a lot concatenates, with perhaps police investigators playing a part, though they are represented almost as secret agents. This develops a little further with an almost-reference to Kafka and a "trial" (some sort of mysterious legal case) that is brought about against Sterling, the main character. Also included is some politics, mainly to do with gender issues and those of refugees. Much of the narrative concerns the world as seen from these alternative points of view, all sieved through the language of fantasy - outfits, both humorous and street high fashion, are limned in detail; identities and histories wash in and out of focus, with wishes and desires as important and telling as realities; time telescopes and time-travel is possible, in order to right wrongs or see vanished loved ones; small poetic resonances are repeated for effect. All these things tumble in and out of one another intriguingly - the key thing being that, in the style of the piece, there is a really good economy: this is not flabby with all the excess of imagining - it's concentrated. The end is pretty dark, but, given what I think the piece is trying to say about how it feels when you are the one under attack, the violence in it seems....I hesitate to say appropriate.....perhaps accurate. The author appears to be asking: "how would this play if the boot were on the other foot?" 

The Trial by Franz Kafka (1925)

 Though the heading says 1925, I read a paperback that is "a new translation, based on the restored text". This novel has iconic status, and so is a danger zone for assumptions. It is the well known story of Josef K., who, in Prague in the period before the First World War, is high up in a bank. He is sailing along pretty comfortably when he is accused of.......something, and notified that he has a trial pending. Thus begins a labyrinthine connection to the world of the Austro-Hungarian court system in its Bohemian province. We are slowly taken into his world: the rooming house where he lives, his associates, women he fancies, the posturing and nitty-gritty world of his work at the bank. But interlaced with this picture is the weird new section of life dealing with this trial. The court system is a mystery to him, and to many others who get tangled up in its politics and endless postponements. (Bleak House comes to mind.) He tries over and over again to get clarity in what exactly it is he's accused of. He enlists the assistance of a variety of lawyers, who claim to have special access, or wise experience. All the while he is attempting to not let this innovation cause too much havoc in his other life - wondering who knows about it, and what they might be thinking, or indeed doing, in relation to it. He manages to go to a couple of preliminary "hearings", meeting others in similar situations waiting outside various courts or offices. The strong impression is of yet another human being lost in a cats' cradle which is taking up the time of many. The legal system is so clogged, and unknowable, that these puzzled, weakly strategising people form a significant portion of the population. At this point, it feels right to say something: this novel is often described as "terrifying". Through almost all of its length it is definitely not. It is a grey, surreal world that it occupies. The whole thing feels very much like a dream - with locales and interrelations that have that significant quality. Stairs and passages are windy and tight, looks are intense, moods are vivid, some of the everyday is missing, some emphasised. The over and over of trying to find the right place, the right angle of attack. Every now and then the surreality is more overt - an upper balcony of a courtroom being so low that all its occupants are slightly bending their heads - almost an Alice-like picture. Of course, the other key thing about this is that it is unfinished, assembled after Kafka's death from fragmentary manuscripts. So, the only truly terrifying thing in it, Josef's death, comes in a fragment at the end, where he is knifed by two men who come to his rooms in the guise of functionaries of the court. What Kafka might have done to tie everything together is an intriguing postulation. As it stands, my main impression is of the aforementioned surreal and dreamlike quality, alongside the fundamental psychological impetus of the whole thing. The author references in the most subtle ways the odd shifts and successive impressions flowing through the minds of many of the characters, and particularly of Josef. Sudden changes of mind, recurring obsessions, power-relationships ebbing and flowing, all sluiced through the language of the animus. These elements mix into a powerful atmosphere, a mood of loss of anchor, struggle in a maze, all mysteriously and alluringly pictured in muted colour.

Situation Clarification F

I spoke previously about the setting up of a political party to advance these aims, but I see this as an interim measure, if it comes about. Party politics and the system of which it is a part is part of the problem in a deeper sense.

It’s very illuminating to think about the Westminster system in the light of when it was formulated. Back in the 18^th century, when it started to become what it is now, only a small number of people had the vote, or would be considered eligible to ‘represent’ an area. And of course, largely they were ‘representing’ the interests of key people. General conditions for all people were way down in the mix, if they were considered at all, except by a few reformers. So it was in effect a closed system, maintaining smooth running because all concerned were to some extent part of the same club. Those involved were separated into broad groups, known as parties, who fought with each other for dominance of the agenda. Established within this were almost theatrical mutual conventions, which made the whole enterprise somewhat game-like, a condition which was exacerbated by the predilections and assumptions of those involved.

Of course, where we are now societally is phenomenally different to where we were then. But we have maintained this old system. Now, pretty well everyone has the vote, and our norms have moved on to the point where we at least pay lip service to the notion that everyone needs to be considered. But we still have ‘representatives’ arranged into parties. Inevitably, given this concentration of power into a few hands, and the weight of the history of a so-called virtuous system, there is no obstruction to corruption except personal ethics. And we all know how easily, if we want something enough which comes within reach, a wilful bending of our ethics can occur in order to justify our going after it, despite any negative consequences for others.

The separation of any proposition made to the nation into ‘bad’ and ‘good’, according to party politics, is obviously a poor analysis. We shouldn’t be negotiating any issue like this i.e. only after negotiating the childlike waves in the my side/your side paddling pool. That’s just a waste of everyone’s time and resources.

We should, I feel, think about what ‘representation’ means. At the moment, it’s used as an excuse. “Well, speak to your MP, that’s what they’re there for”. Even though that MP is obliged to follow a party line. Even though that MP may completely disagree with what you’re saying and not be willing to represent that view. Of course it’s also used as an excuse at concept level – “we have a system whereby the people are represented – get out and vote!” as though that really means we have a hotline to the corridors of power, and that a once-every-four-years single decision is somehow “being involved”, “being taken into consideration” at an appropriate level.

Again, a likening helps. In any other sphere, if one was after fullest communication between a large group and a central administration via ‘representatives’, then those ‘representatives’ would consistently need to poll the group to find out what they need to bring to the central table: it would be frowned upon simply to assume that yourself and people like you already had the position. Doing that, one would be regarded as egotistic and dismissive, and deciding the affair before the event, effectively by-passing the process of ‘representation’ in its essence.

So, we probably need some sort of consultative democracy to replace the current system. In parliament, official parties would be need to be banned, though I’m equally sure that, humans being humans, there may well be a strong temptation to form alliances. Each representative (genuine ones, no quotemarks needed) would need to be quite simply a reporter of their constituents’ views. This represents perhaps a more significant change than might be suspected – ‘representation’ becomes literally that, you are a functionary, not a personality. This of course brings up a key point: “but what about what comes out, healthily, in the rough and tumble of argument about a topic?” This is important. I think, though, it needs to occur before the populace are consulted by their representatives. So the arguing through is done not by the representatives, but by those with expert knowledge in any given field. The representatives after all are not in a position to have this expert knowledge. And yet, in our current system, they’re imbued with some sort of magic status which allows them to take on that part. Experts should do expert stuff, representatives should represent, it’s that simple – lodge decision-making practicalities where they naturally live. In this sense, Westminster is ‘unnatural’, and that is why the results are not great.

This posits a different function for Westminster. I don’t particularly see the need for the functionaries who would be called “representatives” to be there. The ones who need to be invited there are those with the skills to represent the different sides of any argument – parliament becomes the forum, effectively. The audience would be those with skills similar to those making the main arguments, and then a leavening of general members of the public, called perhaps by some system akin to jury duty. These ordinary people would be there to do the job of clarification for all, so that things don’t just get pushed through without being clear to the unexpert. And to make sure that the experts aren’t running some assumptions that the general public can see won’t work.

So, to sum up in reference to the first paragraph, any political party created to get these changes happening would have to have its own demise built in. There to get the job done, then goodbye.

Situation Clarification E

 

The underlying pressing point, having put forward this idea of a separate currency, is how to bring it about. Again we require devil’s advocacy – I would imagine by those with legal skills. The reason I say that? It is the requirement of this new system to have a full mandate, right to the top, unassailable. It needs legal enshrinement. So I’m imagining that a court case could well be the way. But are there terms, anywhere in the law, which could accommodate this? I imagine it as a highest-level landmark case, establishing afresh the right of the people to be cared for. If those in power won’t properly supply these needs, then we expect to be able to do so for ourselves, with a set of separated resources. With specific points made about profit-seeking being counter to these needs being met, in other words not a best practice scenario. Alternatively, if there’s another, easier way, bring it on.

It can probably be envisaged as a human rights case. There are, after all, enormous anomalies already in our civilisation as regards these issues. We say that it’s a human right to have adequate accommodation, but in practice we have to afford it, and many are increasingly struggling. We say it’s a human right to have adequate food, but many of us struggle because the money we have for living doesn’t stretch that far comfortably. There is something fundamentally contradictory about the claim of these things being human rights and then not providing them as a matter of course. Making them a reward rather than a right – that’s again a very simple confusion of two ideas, which need separating out into their respective strands for clarity. This human rights issue is a much bigger issue even than the one I’m tackling. But the same principles could well be utilised for this lesser situation.

There’s also the anticipation of commentary at concept level, saying something along the lines of “why do you want to reinvent the wheel? We don’t need the complication of two currencies. Just campaign for pounds to do what you ask.” I would be more than happy to embrace this. I simply am not sure it could be brought about, mainly because the people responsible for guiding the change through are so in hock to profit-associated interests that there would be ‘great unwillingness’ (to be euphemistic) to bringing it about. But it’s good to think about, for sure. Could we create a new political party which has as a clear first principle that the scientific model of economics revealed by Modern Monetary Theory needs to be embraced, the pseudo-scientific one of orthodox economics relegated rightly to history? The only hesitation I have about that would be that it’s asking people to vote for the new operations. In other words, the mandate to do this would have to be fought for amongst all the nonsense of political elections, rather than in the cool of rooms where expert people can strategise.

Simply enacting this superior analysis as the best practice would no doubt engender an objection in some quarters: “but that’s undemocratic!”. This is a matter of how we understand society’s operation: there are many things, after all, in how our world is ordered, for which we have not voted. They are decided upon by people with skill as the best means of attaining a goal – that’s what all those government departments full of civil servants were designed to do, after all. As much as it would be good for us all to vote on everything, it’s not very practical. (Spoiler – there might be a way. More later.)

If we understand that our society’s economics needs to be seen in a different light which represents a more fact-based scientific approach, we are understanding that this represents ‘best practice’ and clearly should be followed by civil servants anyway, as a matter of course. It shouldn’t require our voting to do so. (This of course brings up a recognition of its own about the reason for the original comment: there’s a high likelihood that the idea of this change needing electoral imprimatur represents more than anything a wish to have it stymied: “let’s, through a typically ‘pseud’ embrace of high principle (“democracy”), make sure this gets kicked into the long grass” – your classic political shenanigans. The thing would be to be alive to this, and make sure it doesn’t happen.)

Two basic takeaways at this point:

1. Public purpose enterprises should be non-profit, as this is clear best practice

2. Orthodox economics is pseudoscientific, and needs replacing with a better model

Situation Clarification D

My feeling is that shillings need to be delineated further in terms of purpose. They not only need to be the chosen currency in the bank accounts of ordinary people, but need to be the currency of operation of all enterprises which shouldn't be profit-making. So it becomes a matter of decisions being made on whether or not the NHS should make profits, the rail system should make profits, the post office ditto, the road network ditto, and so on. As soon as we have decided that a certain sector should be non-profit, shillings become its currency. Current private operators are served notice on the termination of their contracts, and we begin the process of recasting needed to make these sectors actually efficient again i.e. strongly providing a service as fully as possible, with the greatest benefit to the most people.

As a result a network develops, between the enterprises that are there for everyone's good and don't require the profit motive, in fact suffer from its inclusion, and the people who work in them. A huge sector which is exclusively involved in providing for the people in the wellbeing of their ordinary lives. The principles of Modern Monetary Theory are used to supply the funds for those needs to be met. Obviously there would be interactions with the world of the pound, where goods and services are needed which are produced by the profit-making sector. But it's interesting that the process of provisioning would highlight those areas very clearly because there would need to be payments in pounds by the accounts departments of these public shillings-based enterprises. One could then look at whether or not funding the new production of those particular goods and services would be worthwhile for the public purpose to be involved in, or whether it was more efficient to remain a purchaser-in of them in pounds. So we have a situation where some new enterprises could come about if the model of public production was worthwhile, so as to provision enterprises we already run: an expanding sector in terms of results achieved, rather than profits made i.e. the right sort of expansion for the public sector. Because of course not only are necessaries produced, but people are employed, all outside the world of profit-taking by individuals.

Which helps me to circle back to what some may see as a truism, but something I feel it's good to underline. A likening may help. Imagine, in your rounds on the web, you go in for your daily session on Youtube. And you gravitate for some reason to gruesome medical videos, which abound there. And you are fascinated, and appalled, by one showing a transection of the lungs of a dead creature which has died because of a parasitic attack: there are loads of wormish-leechish parasites glued en masse to the lungs, which had been sucking the lifeblood away from the creature and caused its death. They are awful to see in such huge numbers, wriggling and swaying in their hundreds - to think of attached and sucking inside a living body, killing it by denuding it of lifeblood.

In a strong sense, that's what a culture of profit-taking in publicly necessary systems is. It's a siphoning away of useful resources to private pockets. One can picture those shareholders and private owners as these parasites. But what we do instead is lionise them as public providers, inexplicably avoiding the realities of the situation. Somehow we've lost confidence in our ability to supply ourselves with our needs, like we've been the victim of a confidence-trick. We've been sold a story about inefficiency when we do it, efficiency when they do it, which is the obverse of true. 

But of course there are points which needs addressing. The main one, expressed in a slightly bilious and superior way, by exponents of private-ownership efficiency is "well, I remember the 70s and nationalised industries, I remember how awful it all was". Of course, there are a couple of issues here. The first, to their credit, is the fact that no doubt there were inefficiencies in those old nationalised enterprises. But they were nothing out of the ordinary, and often the result of poor management or corrupt unions, not the inherent inefficiency of the enterprises themselves. Certainly not the result of the fact that those enterprises should have been privately owned. The faults were next level down - management issues. But these strictly management issues were manipulated into being seen as fundamentally structural - in order to hive these enterprises off to a sector where they became less efficient than ever: worse issues were created, rather than the existing issues fixed. The evidence? Well, we have only to look around us.

Which leaves us with this fact, contrarily: note that in this split scenario of some public enterprises, some private ones, the world of profit-making is still in existence. There is nothing overly wrong in essence with taking a profit. The wrong comes in with where it happens. If you're a private individual or shareheld company making sweets or PVC tubing or bicycle locks, good luck to you in your profit-seeking. But if we're talking about the provision of services for public wellbeing, the opposite is true. So, we have an imagined world here where the full panoply of colour of human endeavour is retained, we're not envisaging a grey Stalinist nightmare. We're simply being intelligent about how we do what we do, with the strong proviso that people need looking after as a first principle. Profit is a second-level issue, not a first.

Situation Clarification C

 

OK, so given that we have reached this realisation that we are being manipulated by a narrative that does not represent the true state of affairs, what can be done? I feel very little, because the most interesting observation, simple though it may be, is that the people who control the money supply also control the narrative. That's a very freeing recognition in one sense, it's a getting down to brass tacks. Money-control is people-control, pure and simple. Suddenly all those who make desperate efforts to 'remain in government', and fight like billio over control of their companies and markets and so on, are doing so for very clear reasons. But it's very unfreeing also, because their doing so means that our society becomes progressively more and more starved and decayed. That neoliberal paradigm, despite not being true at all, in completely overt evidence that we can all see, is the one which is adhered to by those in power. I don't know how we have got to here - I'm assuming that there are enough intelligent people out there who are consistently registering the illogic of this position that there has to be another reason why nothing progresses. It's there in black and white: we claim a system which prioritises efficiency, and have a system starved and decayed and inefficient. We seem caught in a lock. Do those in power get asked questions this simple? I can't say I've heard it happening. But maybe I'm not in the right loops? What I am used to is spin, so I am able to imagine your classic 'politician-speak' which simpers around the edges of the issues, and presents only certain shards of information, so as not to address the basic conflict in truth which emerges here. 

I do have a few ideas of things we can do, though I haven't tested them with anyone for devil's advocacy, and they'll need that. One of the main ones in the short term would be to create a second currency, directly alongside the pound. Let's call it the shilling. This second currency would have to be mandated right to the very top, legally, and potentially (?) be pegged to the value of the pound: what you can buy for 20 pounds, you can buy for 20 shillings. Everywhere pounds are accepted, so must shillings be. You can pay your tax in it, you can charge someone else in it etc etc. But there are a few key differences. Shillings would be, for lack of a better term, a "people's currency". Preferring it would be a political move, so you might say to your bank, even if you are paid in pounds, "please denominate all my funds in shillings", and they would be legally bound to do so. But the key thing would be that shillings would have to have some protections attached, the main one being that you may not speculate with shillings, and they will never appear on currency markets - they are a strictly UK-only affair, unlike the pound. If you want to do that stuff, you're free to, but you'll need to denominate in pounds to do so. And there would probably need to be some other protections attached which would mitigate against any speculatory or world-market oriented changes in the value of the pound - perhaps a point at which value would divorce, so that ordinary people denominating in shillings would never lose the ability to obtain food or necessaries because of stupidities in the market for pounds. Would this work as a means of exiting ourselves from the control via money spoken of above? I need the devil's advocacy to know, but I like the idea as a starting point. "Leave the pound and all its market craziness and control-mania to those who like that kind of thing; we'll ensure our safety and peace and freedom through a currency alongside, but not intimately connected, and with key separations." I say at the head of this paragraph 'short-term' because I like the idea that it will become the pound that will undergo a starving process, and that, before long, the shilling might just win out, or can be mandated to through natural gravity, and we can thus exit all the nonsense that goes with internationally floated currencies. The "currency market" does seem particularly superfluous in terms of the value in ordinary people's lives.

 

Situation Clarification B

 

So, we're in this anomalous situation where we're claiming one thing, but have another: "we're working systematically in the clear direction of the best efficiency" versus "our enterprises are phenomenally inefficient at providing their services" and never the twain shall meet. They are efficient, but in which ways? They're efficient at providing income for private owners and shareholders, perfect working for that model. They are inefficient, but in which ways? They're inefficient at providing for the public purpose, a bad result for that aspiration. So in effect the claims above are coming from different angles, and it therefore comes down to: which are we trying to do? Do we want an NHS, for example, which treats the public for its medical ills? If we assume that we do, why is the way we're undertaking that job so contributory to inefficiency? Do we want a rail system that gets the maximum amount of people where they need to go in an efficient manner, where the notion of maximisation needs to include the larger numbers of the less well off, and therefore pricing needs to be low to reflect that? Then why is there such fracturing of the system and unaffordable ticket-pricing? Each time we follow the principle of 'including the private sector will increase efficiency' we get inefficiency and far from maximised performance. And again, this is obvious to see. But somehow not seen. It's like we somehow need to blind ourselves to these simple facts. Some deep inner need means that we can't look these things in the face, just for what they are.

Working on the assumption that some of us can indeed see these things (if I can, then hopefully loads of other people can too), what is possible? What can we do, and how? This is where Modern Monetary Theory comes in. It says that the supply of funds for public purposes is not unlimited, but is far greater than currently imagined. The government, through its agencies like the Treasury and the Bank of England, can fund all sorts of public programs simply by creating the money necessary to do so. If one has been schooled in orthodox economics, an immediate warning light will go on. "But you can't just print any amount of money, because this flood of money will cause inflation: all the extra cash in people's pockets will find an equal and answering extra in prices, since we will be able to afford them, and pricers won't be blind to that." But Modern Monetary Theory answers this with: "to an extent this is true, but the extent is limited. Many of us have optimal levels of consumption without even knowing that we do. There's only a certain amount of anything that we want, or need. Inflation is calculated generally across all sectors, whereas, specifically, the greatest inflation can often occur in luxury items which are not the province of many, and will remain so even if we have extra money in our pockets. Also, all the spending for public projects is spread quite evenly among the workers who contribute, each worker getting a comparatively small boost, so big spending is not predicated - the inflationary effects are there, no doubt, but really reflective of how things currently already are in terms of extent." Basically, Modern Monetary Theory states that those price increases that there will be, will be minimal and perfectly 'digestible' by our economy. 

But the picture of hyperinflation that can be drawn by orthodox economics is that of the last stages of Weimar Germany i.e. people wandering around with wheelbarrows of 'useless' currency in order to try to buy loaves of bread. There is a practical example which illustrates this as an error: Japan. On the orthodox paradigm, Japan should have been a basket case forty years ago. It should indeed have collapsed into a Weimarian nightmare. They have consistently provided funds for public purposes in a large way - but this provisioning has not inaugurated a hell-period, in fact quite the opposite. They have remained remarkably stable as an economy. I'm sure there are subtleties in this story that I'm not including, associated with specificities of the Japanese situation, but I think the general takeaway is stunningly clear: spending money (and creating it to do so) is not inherently catastrophic in inflationary terms. 

In the few examples in history where inflation has occurred to a catastrophic level, rather than an ordinarily expectable one, there have been very specific reasons for it happening, not that of general public-purpose spending. These reasons are associated with limitations to resources - in Weimar's case, put simply, it was the phenomenal level of war reparations, and the destruction of productive capacity as a result of the First World War. It's important to look at those kinds of things in terms of their function as imperators of catastrophic inflation, particularly how rare they are. One, because their rarity should give the lie to the orthodox claim as applied to our non-rare circumstances, two, because they send a valuable lesson about how inflation at a catastrophic level really comes about, and it's not what orthodox economics says it is, and three, how the fear of these rare catastrophic circumstances is 'managed' by those who have skin in the game to dampen down responsible efforts at change for the better. The fear-claim is, after all, very 'useful'. The problem is that this dampening is spun as the responsible iteration - but the evidence out there in the real world proves the opposite.

And of course there are examples of the falseness of this narrative in our own situation. Note that spending on a suddenly arising need, like the pandemic, or perhaps a military conflict, is always passed through with strong intent, and quickly. "Well, we have to do that." But when spending on a similar level is mooted for something like the NHS or rail or education or....whatever it may be, up comes the objection that we can't do it, because too much spending will cause inflation. Even though, having spent what we have done on the pandemic and other 'critical' causes, we are still not wheeling out our barrows of currency to the supermarket. Make no bones about it, inflation has occurred, and has been occurring for all of our lives, at varying levels. But somehow the idea of the ordinary-level inflation that it is (not joyful at the moment, for sure), and always has been, is able to be co-opted so as to prevent spending on many things which would not particularly cause that scenario to change at all, and certainly not to catastrophic levels. This should make it clear that what we are dealing with is what is called a "straw-man" or "bugbear" - a falsehood designed to dampen us, to frighten us off from the territory. 

Situation Clarification A

 I've been struck by the "new" paradigm presented by an increasingly noted system of thought among economists called Modern Monetary Theory. It seems to provide those things many of us have been searching for: workable answers for what seemed an intractable situation. We discover that we are not locked into a prison cell of insufficient funds for society to operate, and structures all around us falling into decay as a result. Instead, we are being kept in that space by a dominant paradigm which is not an inevitability. Immediately the question comes up - who is doing the imprisoning? Who has skin in the game in keeping things as they are, starved and decaying? 

The answer appears to be the economics of what has been called neoliberalism. This is the line which, among other things, says "publicly owned enterprises are inherently inefficient, so we need to get the private sector involved". It also says "when we get the private sector involved we are contributing to 'lean and mean' tendencies that are already there in our environment as a natural consequence of our being human - the 'survival of the fittest' fight which occurs will keep things fresh". In other words, there is nothing more essential or more basic and bedrock than these ideas. So of course it's interesting that there is incredible inefficiency in a lot of public enterprises now, even though the private sector is playing a huge part, or even the whole part, in them. The proof of that one's in the pudding, literally. 

And subsequently of course the question comes up: "a lot of money and resources are flowing through these chains, but the chains themselves are starved and decaying, so where are the money and resources going, and why aren't they achieving more?". Which leads to the basic realisation that private involvement predicates the owners of these concerns, sometimes a small group of individuals, sometimes a larger group, where we are including shareholders. It would seem that that's where a lot of the money goes. So, again, the vision develops: private owners in small numbers but having large pockets, shareholders in large numbers whose collective pocket is equally sizeable, requiring their emolument. This requirement being solid, a first consideration. So the public purpose which any given enterprise might have becomes a subsequent concern, a next level down thing. We are helped to understand: "without our input this enterprise would be sloppy and inefficient, so we are worth the money paid in order to obtain the better result". Except that this better result is not how things are. And this is not a difficult or subtle analysis. It's obvious for pretty well anyone to see. 

And of course this neoliberal thing stretches back deep into the 1970s, so it's been on the go for 50 years and more, even before the big cheerleaders of its virtues, Reagan and Thatcher, came to power. 50 years and counting of slow starvation and decay in public enterprises has meant that there are now entire generations younger than myself who simply assume that this is the only way things can be - our society's trajectory has only ever been thus to them. (As an aside, it's interesting (possibly only to me!) to think about what somebody from prior to that period might make of where we are now. Imagine 'reviving' Churchill even, let alone some other less 'capital C' conservative leader, let alone someone of more "left" principles, from that era, and having them see how we've arranged things, and where the money's going, and what the results are across society. I think they'd be a bit shocked by our arrangements: "why can't they see what they're doing?") 

Mrs Lirriper's Lodgings by Charles Dickens, Elizabeth Gaskell, Andrew Halliday, Edmund Yates, Amelia B. Edwards and Charles Alston Collins (1863)

 One of those portmanteau pieces so favoured in Victorian times particularly. This came out under Dickens' auspices in All the Year Round - all seven pieces were printed together as the special Christmas issue for 1863. They vary enormously. Dickens' starter is a classic rendering in a lower middle class landlady's voice, replete with jealousy of a rival landlady down the street, and the posturing of superiority associated with it. He holds the voice brilliantly in his usual theatrical vein. Various lodgers come to the fore, both sympathetic and otherwise, with a mainstay in the Major, who has been with her for a while (having started out down the street!) and who provides chorus-like support. It culminates with an ill-starred couple together under false pretences, where the female of the pair ends up abandoned at Mrs Lirriper's and dying in misery. She does leave a little son, whom Mrs Lirriper and the Major take on, and who becomes the light of their lives, thus fulfilling the required sentimental elevation for a Christmas number. Gaskell's follow-up, Crowley Castle, is barely associated. A stirring and serious tale of a young woman's errors in love and their dire consequences, including bitterness to the depth of murder, it only belongs because she has wrapped it in an extra layer of being related to the Major, I think by Mrs Lirriper as a story she's heard (in a less obviously characterful voice), but I could have misinterpreted that. Halliday's third is a strange one, which begins as potentially supernatural with a doctor suddenly appearing in the midst of a mutual appreciation society of young men starting out in life, full of sweetness and belief. He corrupts it slowly with cynicism and doubt. Then, in a big twist, which frankly feels cranked, he is discovered by one of the young men not to be an unholy demon, but rather a profoundly good man who is ashamed of being kind-hearted! My suspicions were activated; perhaps this was to be used some other way, and Dickens agreed to have it as a contribution if the tone could be lightened? It falls oddly into two parts. Yates' fourth suffers from the same disease. An unbearable braggart and dominator comes to stay at an inn in Wales, planning as part of his stay to visit distant, as yet unknown, relatives nearby. The family are quickly horrified by his boorishness and attempt to avoid him as best they can. He particularly dismisses, as a lofty metropolitan, the fiancé of one of the daughters of the family, and all is set for conflagration as the family take against him more seriously. But then, suddenly, the fiancé gets into trouble while out swimming, and it is our man who dives into dangerous seas to save him. Again the unmistakable feeling of something which starts out as a portent for comeuppance twisting into a tale of heroism in pursuance of a more wholesome tone. Edwards' fifth is a splendid tale of jealousy and ultimately murder among the kilns of the Potteries. It has a quiet mystery which indicates how good a writer of ghost tales she is, with the murdered man appearing to a lonely kiln worker late at night with the deep red oven-glow on his face among the shadows. Why Dickens didn't require of Gaskell and Edwards the same turn to sentiment as Halliday and Yates is a question - were they too well-established to brook interference? Collins' sixth is what could be described as a successful essay upon the terms of Yates' earlier piece. Another stupid boor with pretensions is inveigled into a duel by friends who ostensibly support his objection with a love rival. But we are quietly let into the knowledge, by implication anyway, that his conception of himself is a long way from that of others. In the end a whole charade is gone through; the rival suddenly stops the proceeding to apologise, but is heard laughing on leaving the field. Our man and his friends retire to an inn to celebrate his victory, but their speeches are interrupted by church bells. As these grow more clamorous, he goes to the window just in time to see the love rival and sweetheart riding by in their wedding carriage; they laugh and kiss their hands to him, waving - all his ludicrous dreams of claiming the woman for wife are smashed. This one has been allowed its intended conclusion and is more satisfying for it. Allowed because the author was married to Dickens' daughter? Then Dickens himself returns for a short seventh, rehashing the absolute pleasure the Major and Mrs Lirriper take in Jemmy, the boy they have adopted. He tells a story which highlights his delight in the hearth and home he's been allowed through being their charge. A fun collection with some ups and downs seemingly in its making.