The
journal Scottish Review deserves an award for the “biggest bang for bucks” category of global
journalism – and/or social comment. Its distinctive contribution is, in a few
pithy clear and elegant paragraphs, to demolish the pretensions of the
professional classes - whose comments and opinions (and exclusions) now reflect
(if not shape) the power structures of modern societies. Forget the “filthy rich”
corporate class! It’s the smooth talking of the “chattering clases” siding with
(rationalising) the "power elite" which we should have been concerned about during all these decades… (Those interested can read a full version of the classic 1956 book by C Wright Mills here)
“Cui
bono” is the basic question all of us should ask of the stances taken by those
who have (somehow) achieved the status of “opinion makers” – whether as
academic, journalist, economist, think-tanker, politician, senior professional
(civil servant, police, medic) or "quangoist" – all paid by the public (in one form
or another) but choosing to lick the arses of one or other of
the elite which actually pays their salary. No place for the unwashed public –
except perhaps those who have made it to retirement and can afford to shoot
from the hip!
And
it is indeed a retired academic which lets loose in the latest issue of Scottish
Review – in a piece about corporatism
One
of the striking features of social change in recent decades has been the way in
which diverse institutions, ostensibly serving very different purposes, have
come to operate in much the same way.In
the past, differences in the aims and practices of the public and private
sectors, and in the management styles of employers and organisations
representing workers, were clearly visible.
However, since the ascendancy of
the 'third way' championed under New Labour, western democracies have embraced
a form of market 'progressivism' that has blurred the old ideological divide
between capitalism and socialism. This has had some interesting consequences –
for the operation of trade unions, the public sector and of NGOs, for example. Many
union leaders continue to employ the socialist rhetoric of the past but their
actions often fall well short of the principles which motivated the pioneers of
the labour movement. In this sense it is no exaggeration to suggest that they
have been assimilated into the ideology which they claim to oppose. They have
become part of the corporate class, whose tentacles are now evident in places
well beyond the boardrooms of multinational companies.
What
is the evidence for this? Leaders of trade unions now have much in common with
senior executives in major companies: both groups enjoy large salaries and
various benefits in kind (cars, travel, expenses, etc.) and are well insulated
from ordinary members, or customers, through the protection of personal
assistants, departmental managers and procedural barriers. The
corporate class rewards itself disproportionately compared with ordinary
employees. This is seen clearly in the private sector where share options and
bonuses are used to boost already generous salaries. But it is now evident in
the public sector as well. Last week two Scottish examples of this were reported.
Assistant chief constables were awarded a £10,000 a year pay rise at a time
when some civilian staff in Police Scotland were being made redundant. This was
described by Graeme Pearson, a Labour MSP and himself a former deputy chief
constable, as 'lacking in sensitivity'. The rises followed substantial hikes to
the salaries of the chief constable, Sir Stephen House, and his four deputies
when the new single force was set up last year.
Even
stronger criticism was attached to the news that university principals had been
awarded an average increase of 4% at a time when staff are taking industrial
action over a pay offer of 1%. Many university principals now earn over
£200,000, substantially more than the UK prime minister and Scotland's first
minister.
The
manoeuvres of the corporate class within the public sector can be seen in many
other areas: in the salaries and leaving packages of senior officials in local
government and the health service; in the way in which complainants find
themselves obstructed by bureaucratic rules and procedures, whose main function
seems to be to protect the 'integrity' of the institution rather than lead to a
just outcome; by the way in which organisations that are supposedly designed to
facilitate proper scrutiny of public bodies (such as the Scottish Public
Services Ombudsman) limit the scope of their inquiries.
In
his book, 'The Corporation', Joel Bakan states that 'the corporation is a
pathological institution, a dangerous possessor of the great power it wields
over people and societies'. Its mandate is to pursue its own self-interest,
regardless of the harm it may cause to others. Those at the top of such
institutions construct the rules to ensure that they are the prime
beneficiaries (whether seen in terms of money, power or reputation).Bakan
goes as far as suggesting that corporations are reshaping human nature so that
self-interested materialism is not just a part of who we are, but the ultimate
goal to which we should be striving.It's
a scary prospect.
It’s
a book which should be given to each individual when (s)he makes it into their
country's "Who's Who" and is clearly part of the "system". It’s
a story of greed - of the "haves", those who have access to the
resources and prestige and how they try to retain it - with catastrophic
results for the stability of their countries.
A few years earlier, a powerful but different critique of
our elites had been launched by Christopher Lasch - The Revolt
of the Elites and the Betrayal of Democracy. The book's title is a
take-off on Jose Ortega y Gasset's The Revolt of the Masses, a
reactionary work published in 1930 that ascribed the crisis of Western culture
to the "political domination of the masses." Ortega believed that the
rise of the masses threatened democracy by undermining the ideals of civic
virtue that characterized the old ruling elites.
But
in late twentieth-century America it is not the masses so much as an emerging
elite of professional and managerial types who constitute the greatest threat
to democracy, according to Lasch.
The
new cognitive elite is made up of what Robert Reich called "symbolic
analysts" — lawyers, academics, journalists, systems analysts, brokers,
bankers, etc. These professionals traffic in information and manipulate words
and numbers for a living. They live in an abstract world in which information
and expertise are the most valuable commodities. Since the market for these
assets is international, the privileged class is more concerned with the global
system than with regional, national, or local communities. In fact, members of
the new elite tend to be estranged from their communities and their fellow
citizens. "They send their children to private schools, insure themselves
against medical emergencies ... and hire private security guards to protect
themselves against the mounting violence against them," Lasch writes.
"In effect, they have removed themselves from the common life."
The privileged classes, which, according to
Lasch's "expansive" definition, now make up roughly a fifth of the
population, are heavily invested in the notion of social mobility. The new
meritocracy has made professional advancement and the freedom to make money
"the overriding goal of social policy." "The reign of
specialized expertise," he writes, "is the antithesis of democracy as
it was understood by those who saw this country as the 'last, best hope of
earth'". Citizenship is grounded not in equal access to economic
competition but in shared participation in a common life and a common political
dialogue. The aim is not to hold out the promise of escape from the
"labouring classes," Lasch contends, but to ground the values and
institutions of democracy in the inventiveness, industry, self-reliance, and
self-respect of working people.
The decline of democratic discourse has come
about largely at the hands of the elites, or "talking classes," as
Lasch refers to them. Intelligent debate about common concerns has been almost
entirely supplanted by ideological quarrels, sour dogma, and name-calling. The
growing insularity of what passes for public discourse today has been
exacerbated, he says, by the loss of "third places" — beyond the home
and workplace — which foster the sort of free-wheeling and spontaneous
conversation among citizens on which democracy thrives. Without the civic
institutions — ranging from political parties to public parks and informal
meeting places — that "promote general conversation across class
lines," social classes increasingly "speak to themselves in a dialect
of their own, inaccessible to outsiders."
Lasch proposes
something else: a recovery of what he calls the “populist tradition,” and a
fresh understanding of democracy, not as a set of procedural or institutional
arrangements but as an ethos, one that the new elites have been doing their
best to undermine.
It has to be said
that neither book made much impact – perhaps they were just seen as
“moralizing”. Contrast that with the
impact made in 1958 by JK Galbraith’s The Affluent Society.