Tl;dr: Our medical/care system is screwed, governments are all efficiency- and cost-obsessed. They’re fixated on ageing and on the explosion of the ‘economically inactive’ population. This system would like the idea of more people taking the voluntary way out.
Am I being neurotic? My concerns about the assisted suicide bill, currently in the UK Parliament, are not with the risk of coercion by family members or doctors or scumbags of one kind or another – although I’m quite sure this is a real risk.
I’m also not particularly worried about ‘the slippery slope’ or about the risk that old people might want to avoid becoming a ‘burden’ (they’re already worried about that). My concern is much simpler. It’s about this system, a healthcare system that is less and less humane; more and more obsessed with measurement and control, with efficiency and throughput and the management of shrinking resources.
In this system – this diminished and dehumanised system – the pressure to move the sick and elderly, the incurable and the intractable (the awkward, the unemployable, the unproductive) along the expensive health and care timeline and onto the fast track, onto the slip-road out of here, is already enormous.
My grim suspicion is that there are managers and administrators and government ministers (and global consultancies and insurers and private equity firms) who would quite like to speed things up a bit, to increase the system’s throughput, to just slightly improve the ratios.
To deliver on this new policy, NHS managers will have to add death to the roster of treatments available and, presumably, add a Death Unit to every major hospital. They’ll mechanically formalise the process, setting targets and, quite plausibly, tweaking incentives to ‘nudge’ the sick and old onto the pathway. There can be no better way to address bed-blocking in our hospitals than by permanently removing the problem.
This system would like to reduce the pointless expenditure on keeping the sick and the inactive alive and to create in the citizenry – the customer-base, you and me – a new habit – the habit of volunteering to step off this mortal coil a bit early.
Not too early. Just a few months or a year. Barely noticeable, just a tiny statistical effect. But every little helps. Move along now. Off you go. Thank you for your contribution. It’s been lovely knowing you… See ya!
I’m ready to make a small bet that within a few years we’ll see the first ‘Dignity Unit™’ or ‘Goodbye Suite™’ in the grounds of a hospital or a care home. It’ll be all pastel colours and there’ll be a wild-flower garden maintained by volunteers. A minor Royal will cut the ribbon…
This, incidentally, explains why politicians are not freaking out about the fact that life expectancies are now falling in parts of the developed world – including Britain. That looks like a self-adjusting system to these people.
I don’t want to be too pedantic. When people – some of whom are well-informed, even brilliant – become hysterical about the alleged damaging effects of mobile phones, in particular on young people, I know they’re not proposing that we give up on decades of technological progress or deprive our kids of access to knowledge. They’re worried about harm to our children, which is very reasonable. Honestly, I get it. But what is it about these devices that they’re actually upset about?
Is it the portable supercomputer? The general-purpose powerhouse they’re carrying around with them? The device that’s capable of running a complex AI model, shooting and editing a 4K video, translating speech in real time, making a 3D model of your house?
Or is it the universal communicator? The multi-channel messaging device they can use to reach essentially anyone on earth (including you), to share their creations worldwide, to locate and contact practically anyone?
Or the unlimited access to information? The infinite photo album they can flick through on the bus? The continually-expanding encyclopaedia of human knowledge, the inexhaustible library of movies and books? The deep archive of world art and creativity they can access in class or in breaktime?
Of course not. It’s none of these things. What is it then? Well, if you don’t mind my saying so:
It’s the predatory corporations. Excuse me while I state the obvious: the problem is the corporations. And not all of them, either. Just the handful of vast, stock market-listed businesses whose robotic, out-of-control profit-seeking cannot apparently be impeded.
Another smartphone precursor
This is a variant of capitalist realism – the sense we all have that THERE IS NO ALTERNATIVE. We’ve convinced ourselves that, somehow, a modern state – a nation, a people – cannot say ‘no’ to manipulation and exploitation by these huge companies, with their trillion-dollar valuations and their megalomaniac management. It’s a remarkable bind to have got ourselves into. The seventh largest economy on earth – a nuclear power, a permanent member of the UN security council etc. etc. – cannot even try to protect its population from the various depradations of the platforms – from the anxiety and misery they produce to the literal fraud and theft that they enable on their platforms to [insert your own risk here].
Remarkably, in the Guardian, Torsten Bell – a famously clever man, a superlative communicator and now a member of parliament and a junior member of the UK government – cannot imagine any exit from this dilemma better than chucking our children’s smartphones – the most sophisticated technology most of humanity will ever own – in the bin and replacing them with something from an earlier era – from the era, to be specific, before they became general purpose computers.
Steve Jobs called computers bicycles for the mind – capacity multipliers, accessible devices that would amplify the capabilities of human beings in remarkable ways. The smartphone is perhaps the ultimate expression of this vision – a powerful computer you can carry around in your pocket and use to transform reality, create and communicate.
Teenagers wasting their lives on a smartphone precursor
But, for some reason, instead of asserting our sovereignty, expressing the independence and the self-confidence of an ancient democracy, Britain must just cave in, dump the smartphones and surrender our kids to primitive, pre-IT era kit. Here in this advanced economy, in the nation where the stored-programme computer was invented, we must not expose our children to the unlimited possibilities of the computers in their pockets but rather shelter them from the evils of the computer era because we have no idea how to tell these plutocrats to fuck off.
In modern monarchies it’s tricky. The sovereign can no longer send soldiers from town to town to extract funds and, since the end of empire, the plunder route is basically closed off too. In Britain no one pays tax directly to the monarch any more. But many of us do pay rent…
Britain is home to one of the most important monarchies in the world. A big operation with branch offices all over the kingdom and in dozens of other countries that retain affiliate status.
The options for monarchies in the modern period have been limited. They’ve either disappeared all together, withered to an essentially showbiz function or – in a few important cases – retained their absolute power. In the Gulf states, for instance, the royals still run the show. When you’re executed in Saudi Arabia you’re executed by the king. No arguments.
In Britain, though, we have a kind of hybrid situation. The monarch has limited powers under the constitution but huge prominence and a large, although quite ill-defined official role. Right now, Britain’s sovereign is well into his seventies and he’s not been well. Although you might expect him to have chosen a quiet retirement over a full-time job, he’s actually more-or-less constantly on the road, providing figurehead duties and walking along lines of fenced-in royalists seeking cures and indulgences.
And what do you do?
Britain’s is considered to be a relatively modern monarchy. It hasn’t blocked a law in the parliament for over 300 years, showing up politely to open new sessions and taking an essentially deferential public stance towards whoever currently controls the executive. But there’s a tension. The British monarch holds various powers in reserve and there are several privileged back-channels connecting the monarch with government. The head of government is obliged to travel to Buckingham Palace for weekly meetings, for instance, and, remarkably, there’s a full cabinet member whose job it is to safeguard one of the sovereign’s historic estates. This awkward balance is said to be what’s most precious about the British crown-constitutional settlement, the arrangement that guaranteed peace in Britain across the centuries while Europe was roiled by revolution and unrest. But it’s assumed that, were a sufficiently radical government to come to power – perhaps one elected on a republican mandate – the monarchy would be less quiescent, more engaged. In ordinary circumstances, though, the king agrees to stay in his lane.
But the trade-off is a costly one. The British monarchy stands back from the polity – the senior royals have accepted the somewhat humiliating role of constitutional zoo animals (they must smile and wave and never lash out in public) – in exchange for essentially unlimited wealth. It’s not a bad deal. The king is one of the wealthiest men in Britain. Likewise his immediate family. His children and their children will want for nothing and will enjoy cosseted, globetrotting millionaire status for life, whether they choose to get involved with the firm’s official business or not. There are men and women in the royal orbit – people none of us have even heard of – who are millionaires because of this clever settlement with the state. Even errant family members are promised accommodation for life provided they STFU and toe the line.
The present British monarchy, installed on the death of Queen Victoria – the House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha (renamed Windsor once being German became an issue) – has had its ups and downs. The Nazi thing, the divorcee (who was also a Nazi), the uncooperative Sloane ranger, the one accused of sexual abuse and so on. The long reign of Queen Elizabeth II is said by everyone to have largely restored the institution’s reputation but, crucially, also shored it up against future crises. What she achieved, in that record-breaking 70-year period, was to provide a platform for her family – and for her successor King Charles III – to operate freely.
As a result, the present king, brought up in extreme luxury, isolated from ordinary people and indulged since childhood, has a degree of freedom to operate that few of his modern predecessors could claim. His entrepreneurial activity is diverse – both in business and in his official role. He’s able to intervene in nationally-important matters – from sustainability to urban planning to youth unemployment. Many thought that his ascent to the throne would in some way limit his activity beyond the wearing of the big crown, launching ships and so on. They were wrong. King Charles III is an engaged sovereign, a head of state unafraid to get his oar in.
One of the king’s places
All this activity is, of course, expensive. And the official sources of income are under pressure – from public scrutiny, from obligations to comply with legal and financial norms and from tightening budgets. So we shouldn’t be surprised to learn that the king and his eldest son, Prince William, have been developing an additional source of income – previously undeclared – from property owned directly by the two estates they control – the Duchy of Cornwall and the Duchy of Lancaster. There’s no need to provide the detail here (read the story). It’s what you’d expect. Monarchs gonna monarch. But The Times, historically the newspaper of record and the paper thought by the British establishment to be essentially their own, has done some first-class digging and found hundreds of secret leases, adding up to millions of pounds per year of income for father and son (and all with no capital gains tax or corporation tax to pay).
Every monarchy on earth derives its income principally from land (or what’s under it). The king and the prince own land on which a prison, various Royal Navy boatyards, windfarms, the Mersey ferry, NHS hospitals, a scout hut, a mine, pubs, fire stations and a motorway service station are located. We learn from the report that they also own ancient title to various riverbeds, beaches and foreshores and that they claim fees from those who want to cross them or build on them or even moor boats in the water above them – literally the definition of unproductive, rentier behaviour, right? Anyway, it’s powerful new evidence of the parasitic hold that even a modern, constitutional monarchy must have over the nation to which it has attached itself if it is to prosper. And this one is certainly prospering.
Tom Nairn’s Enchanted Glass is the best book about the British crown-constitutional settlement as ‘symbol of a national backwardness’.
