From corrupt government to dysfunctional society: how bad could britain get? | thearticle

From corrupt government to dysfunctional society: how bad could britain get? | thearticle


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“Is Britain threatened by a descent from decency to an uncivil society?” Daniel Johnson asks in TheArticle. But is he asking whether Britain, meaning the public, is sufficiently concerned


about the anger, division, and social coarseness we see right across the country? Or whether our contemporary divisions and outbreaks of thuggish behaviour are destroying the cohesion and


values of our country? Both are undoubtedly good questions. There is danger in taking things to their logical conclusion; things, thankfully, rarely get to any firm conclusion, least of all


logically. The temptation is to highlight contemporary bad news and imagine trends, signs of a dystopian present giving rise to a more dystopian future, despite our residual 19th-century


belief in Progress and Development. On the one hand, we might be experiencing what the German philosopher Walter Benjamin called Jetztzeit, a here and now marked by a major upheaval, an


explosion in the dismal continuum of recent British history. On the other, we may be looking at more of the same, because we forget too easily past crises, riots and social disorder, and


eventually all will calm down and society will return to as normal as we can manage. Two good questions deserve a third. Is there a relationship between civil society becoming uncivil and


the weakening of proper governance of public affairs, compliance with laws and rules, and the accountability of those holding political power? Or expressed more simply, what kind of damage


does a corrupt government cause civil society and civility? Or is a corrupt government just propped up by an uncivil society? British people are in the habit of using public services while


avoiding paying for them. Requests for and payments of cash-in-hand are common and at the better-off end there is sophisticated tax evasion by the rich. Maybe, as the Anglo-Irish political


scientist Benedict Anderson says: “We have met the enemy and it is us.” A lot hangs on what we mean by corruption. In the 1970s, I lived and worked in Nigeria. Embezzlement, kickbacks, fraud


and bribery in government office were normal. What of Nigerian civil society? Expatriate academics from communist Poland found those little financial inducements quite natural and handled


the university bureaucracy with practised skills. Taking them as her example, my wife got the university to install an air-conditioner without paying off anyone. And she got a round of


applause from senior administrative staff who had been following her antics with great amusement. Nigeria encouraged you to believe in a trickle-down theory of corruption. Enormously


stoical, resilient and humorous, Nigerian civil society aspired to clean governance but was resigned to the opposite. In Britain, using public office for private gain, or gain in political


careers, is less common, less acknowledged and less recognised as harmful. It takes place on the poorly patrolled border between the unlawful and the criminal, rank cronyism and


“chumocracy”. Note how choice of words can soften the impact of much the same conduct. Accusations of conflict of interest don’t get the public onto the streets, though avoiding such


conflicts is a fundamental principle of good decision-making and therefore of conduct in public life. The public condemned Matt Hancock and his adviser Gina Coladangelo for their videoed


clinch, because they were ignoring Covid rules, and this was the reason he gave for his resignation as Health Secretary. He made no mention of any conflict of interest in his adviser’s


appointment as a non-executive director in the Department of Health and Social Care. Ministers still “forget” to disclose relationships pertinent to lucrative government contracts. And


donors to the governing Party found their way onto the 2020 government VIP procurement list. Much of this is illuminated by the work of civil society organisations, such as the Good Law


Project. In developing countries, where a single breadwinner may be supporting many poor relations, the pressures at every level on those with any access to money and power are enormous and


the temptations to corrupt practice, great. They are much amplified if you can count on getting away with it. Whether the corrupt are likely to get caught and punished is the touchstone of


how bad things will get. It has little to do with inherent differences in moral sentiments between nationalities. Corruption gets a lot worse when not only individuals but a government is


accustomed to “getting away with it” and avoiding scrutiny. Nigerians in my experience hate the prevailing corruption but, given the behaviour of their own politicians, are at a loss how to


curtail it. The question which Daniel Johnson — perhaps inadvertently — raised is: do we disapprove of the corruption of the Johnson clique enough to do something about it? And if we don’t,


are we heading for a dysfunctional polity — taking things to their logical conclusion — perhaps like Nigeria? “Good heavens, no,” you may say, “Nothing logical about that. Preposterous,


indeed.” It is true that we have many safeguards against corruption. We have Parliament. We have the Common Law. We have an effective and learned judiciary able to subject the Government’s


conduct to judicial review and we have the European Convention on Human Rights. We have parliamentary select committees. We have the BBC and a free Press. And we should treasure them all.


But the long-term resilience and effectiveness of all these institutions depend on voters, too many of whom seem to feel this is not their concern or even that “politicians are all the


same”. It would be good to think Matt Hancock’s resignation is a turning point. But it isn’t. Adultery is neither unlawful nor criminal, nor as disapproved of as it once was. Public wrath,


transmitted via Tory MPs’ fears, into Tory Whips’ political muscle, was directed at the flagrant demonstration that “there’s one rule for them and another rule for us”. The suspected


cronyism of the Health Secretary was not the raw meat the tiger Press fed on. And readers do not yet seem to have made the connection between dishonest government cronyism and their own


wellbeing. Corruption could get a lot worse. Government under Boris Johnson remains determined to get away with it and avoid scrutiny. “I think he honestly believes it is churlish of us not


to regard him as an exception,” his teacher at Eton wrote in Johnson’s April 1982 school report. “One who should be free of the network of obligations which bind everyone else.” A Prime


Minister who does not understand how a rules-based society works or the distinction between private and public interest is a threat to the whole of society. As the old proverb says: “A fish


rots from the head down.” A MESSAGE FROM THEARTICLE _We are the only publication that’s committed to covering every angle. We have an important contribution to make, one that’s needed now


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