Review
Culture
Economics
Politics
10 min read

The book Keir Starmer says you must read

Will Hutton’s This Time No Mistakes surveys the thinking that could solve Britain’s ills.

John Milbank is a theologian, philosopher and poet. A co-founder of the Radical Orthodoxy movement, he is an Emeritus Professor of the University of Nottingham.

Kier Starmer sits on a sofa, leaning forward and holding papers he is reading. Rachel Reaves sits and looks on.
Starmer and Reeves.
Labour Party

In the aftermath of a historic election, one could do worse than read Will Hutton’s second big ‘state of the nation book’, recently published. This Time No Mistakes is worth reading just for the succinctness and clarity of its politic-economic history of the United Kingdom since the industrial revolution, which it provides in its central chapters. Indeed, Keir Starmer says it is a ‘brilliant book... read it if you haven't already It may well take a sophisticated journalist to be able to do this so well: too often, even the best of academics cannot see the public wood for their private-obsessional trees.  

But it is doubly and mainly worth reading for Hutton’s prognosis of our ills and his recommendations for solving them. The new Labour government could do far worse than try to carry through Hutton’s proposals, which almost anyone of common sense and goodwill (including all Tories) ought readily to endorse. Indeed, if the next government managed to initiate even a half of what he suggests, this country could be placed back upon the right tracks.  

As to the history, which is crucial to the ultimate diagnosis: Hutton contends quite simply that Britain has been self-deceived by the peculiar nature of its industrial revolution, which was the first in history. It was largely a matter of private enterprise, partly enabled and later cushioned by empire, whose possession encouraged us to support an unqualified doctrine of free trade.  

However, all other nations, including the United States, both when they sought to catch up with the steam and rail revolution, and when they later co-pioneered the ones based on gas and electricity, and ultimately on nuclear and digital, from the outset depended much more upon state intervention to promote needed expertise, education and investment. The United Kingdom, by contrast, remained captivated by the mythical glory of its initial take-off.  

As a result, not just Conservative governments, but also Labour ones, right up to the New Labour one, and including the catastrophically misguided work of Margaret Thatcher (Hutton is admirably unqualified here) remained far too captivated by the norms of economic laissez-faire, ‘balancing the books’, a primacy of finance over production and obsessive Treasury concern with money, rather than productive wealth.  

The exceptions to this were the pre-World War one Liberal government and the post World War Two Labour one. Yet all the strong ideas implemented by the latter came from ‘New Liberal’ thinkers and not Labour ones: notably from Keynes and Beveridge. Labour on its own, by comparison, has tragically and disastrously oscillated between a desire to replace capitalism with some sort of command economy on the one hand, and simply leaving capitalism as it is, with a bit of welfare tinkering, on the other. More recently this has been seen in the contrast between Corbyn and Blair. 

It is at this juncture that Hutton proceeds to complement his political-economic diagnosis with a more purely political one. The split on the ‘progressive left’ is a catastrophe that has kept the Tories unfairly in power for much of a century. This split is both caused by and has prevented any reform of the first past the post voting system, which urgently needs to go.  

For this reason then, political economy and constitutional reform go together.  

As to the latter, we need proportional representation which would allow more reasoned debate instead of the inter-party squabble, alongside legally guaranteed local government and a different kind of informed, rather than overweening executive.  

As to the former, we need flexible planning, public-private partnership in investment, a national wealth fund, sectional trade union bargaining, the breaking up of cartels and monopolies and required social purpose and stakeholding, for every business and financial enterprise. 

One is tempted just to say hurray! But there are some historical and theoretical questions to be posed that may have hidden practical consequences.  

Better than trying to ‘balance’ the private and the collective, as if the self and society were in rivalry, is to take the more Continental (and early Blairite!) course of stressing that we are always ‘persons in relation’.

Hutton now backs Tawney besides Keynes. But do they say the same thing? For the latter, capitalism is a wild, amoral and dynamic beast that can nonetheless be politically tamed. In certain phases of the capitalist cycle only (as Hutton rightly sees) this will be about boosting demand, but in others it can mean lessening it and temporarily hurting workers.  

But Tawney, and Hutton clearly agrees with him, wanted a market economy permitting only useful and not merely acquisitive wealth. Given this ethical purpose it was for him possible for the market, aa a socialist market, to reach equilibrium, beyond extrinsic and always precarious state ‘management’.  

Just how precarious was seen in the 1970s. For Hutton, the lapse of Keynesianism in this decade was simply a matter of the triumph of the wrong ideas. To a large degree this is surely right, and yet it is not the whole story. Were it the latter, then neoliberalism might not have spread beyond Anglo-Saxon lands to Europe and South America.  

The other aspect is surely the reality that capitalism of its nature, as driven by the amoral search for profit, resists any prospect of a stable, social market. Achieving that and extending the corporatist order of negotiation between state, business and unions would have been the alternative way, instead of Hayekianism, to deal with ‘stagflation’. Rather than a competition between capital, labour and consumer for money that wasn’t there at the time, a fair division of spoils could have been consistently instituted by legally and culturally re-framing the firm and the market, something that would have immediately favoured a renewed degree of growth.  

Really, almost everything that Hutton writes indicates agreement with this sort of thing, including the recognition that of itself, capitalism is not actually dynamic (that comes from technology and culture) but tends to build up sterile finance in the interests of the few, rather than productive growth in the interests of the many. But in that case ‘ethical socialism’ is not just a set of ideals, as he tends to imply, but a mode of achievable practice.  

Similarly, a general mutualist national insurance approach to welfare, which he rightly favours, was not just a New Liberal advocacy as he claims, but deeply rooted in co-operative socialism and in Christian (especially Anglican) social thinking whose influence -- except silently in the case of Tawney -- goes unmentioned. Yet the very phrase ‘welfare state’ is Archbishop William Temple’s and Tawney’s social analysis, intended for the general public, concluded with an unabashed High Church ecclesiology! 

It is relevant here that Hutton speaks of the need to combine the ‘I’ with the ‘We’ and yet he clearly does not endorse just any old exercise of ‘individual agency’, even if he sometimes appears to do so, when defining the operation of the price mechanism as necessarily ‘wild’, after Adam Smith’s exclusion of commercial transactions from the immediate operation of social sympathy. Better than trying to ‘balance’ the private and the collective, as if the self and society were in rivalry, is to take the more Continental (and early Blairite!) course of stressing that we are always ‘persons in relation’ – at once within and outside each other, in a constant creative weave.  

Nothing could be further from Keynes’ despising of the proletariat and favouring of learned leisure, that John Ruskin’s revolutionary mystique of the artisanal. 

There are two deeper questions about Hutton’s approach. First, his excessive ‘idealism’, as with his analysis of the Seventies switch, may still underrate the difficulty of overcoming the power of entrenched interests – the need indeed not so much for class, as for popular warfare against plutocracy.  

Secondly, he tends to underplay a theoretical tension between secular and materialist thinkers, including New Liberals, on the one hand, and religious and Idealist thinkers like the first ‘New Liberal’, T.H Green on the other.  

The latter was much more like Alasdair Macintyre or Michael Sandel than like John Rawls, as Hutton claims: for by human ‘self-realisation’ he meant the ‘positive liberty’ of pursuing the objectively true ends of human flourishing: religious contemplation, artistic creation of genuine beauty, active citizen participation.  

By contrast, the secular New Liberals, including Keynes, tended to reduce the ethical good to the negative liberty of rights, private friendship and utility – often leading them to favour eugenics and to indulge in racism. Nothing could be further from Keynes’ despising of the proletariat and favouring of learned leisure, that John Ruskin’s revolutionary mystique of the artisanal.  

Hutton tends to express surprise that a Tory like Ruskin, or a reactionary like Carlyle, should have favoured the cause of the worker – and indeed in Ruskin’s case also espoused ‘communism’, as Hutton elides from the picture. But this is to fail to see how Tory Radicalism and even paternalism is actually a third strand in the kind of transformative thinking that we continue to need, was always a crucial influence on Labour and was a crucial element of the postwar settlement.  

If these thinkers indeed favoured ‘hierarchy’, then that was in part because they wanted more interpersonal and mediated chains of command, rather than brutally centralised and mechanical ones. Surely Hutton wants that also, as his excellent reservations about the use of Artificial Intelligence would indicate? 

There is a recognition that economic individualism usually ‘on the right’ is actually matched and encouraged by a cultural individualism usually ‘on the left’. 

This is perhaps the limit of talking in terms of ‘progressive’ versus ‘conservative’. Hutton harks back to the norms of the Enlightenment. Yet, as Richard Whatmore has shown, all the great British enlightenment thinkers came to think that pure enlightenment was failing.  

They saw its anti-religious fanaticism stance as challenged by the rise of new secular, nationalist and direct democratic fanaticisms, as supremely with the French Revolution. By ‘populism’, as we might now say! 

But they also already recognised that the breakdown of a rational peace had been encouraged by excessive consumer greed and by the over-implication of commerce in state borrowing (whose pre-enabling of industry in Britain, Hutton does not mention) and so also in war and empire.  

It was exactly in this context that the enlightenment thinker Edmund Burke began to consider the virtues of the longer-term embedding of enlightenment in Christianity and the importance of the medieval ‘gothic’ legacy of a corporate order binding social body to social body, rather than individual to individual via contract, mediated by the market and backed up by the state.  

In Burke’s wake, for example with the radical William Cobbett, much of the Nineteenth Century critique of economism, to which Hutton is the heir, was of a ‘Romantic’ and often ‘neo-medieval’ rather than purely enlightenment cast. (Hutton at times wrongly reads medieval ‘feudalism’ as ‘absolutist’ – a specifically early modern phenomenon.) This matters, because this tradition contains a stronger recognition that the centralising state (which the Enlightenment favoured as a substitute for the Church) can be just as alienating and anti-social as the uprooting market – even if, as Karl Polanyi later saw, one needs the power of the state today in order to restore the primacy of the social and of inter-human fellowship.  

Within the same current, there is a recognition that economic individualism usually ‘on the right’ is actually matched and encouraged by a cultural individualism usually ‘on the left’. And here Hutton is perhaps inconsistent – he definitely sees this, mentioning the dubious overriding of the universal by identitarian concerns,  and yet also recognises it somewhat uneasily, as it challenges certain ‘progressivist’ assumptions. 

 As a result, he rather disallows the validity of some populist concerns – ironically rather like the incomprehension of the older enlightenment in the face of the new revolutionary era. For example, concerns with the normative primacy of the heterosexual family and the enabling of family and children, with regional and national identity, with the academic ‘woke’ trashing of the entire Western legacy, with the exploitation and cultural disruption of excessive immigration, with ecological policies that simply override current human needs while doing little to assist the future of nature.  

The danger of these partial blind spots could be a continued failure of the roughly ‘communitarian’ Left, or the sensible Right, to win over the mass of the people to their cause. For they must be won over if not just the United Kingdom, but humanity as a whole, is to have a decent future.  

Towards building that future, no one has contributed more, or more valiantly, than Will Hutton.  

  

 

Interview
Books
Culture
Football
Sport
10 min read

Transformer: how Jurgen Klopp gave belief to a team and city

Neil Atkinson talks about his new biography of the redemptive Liverpool manager.
A stern looking  football manager stares hard, with a stand of supporters behind him.

“But also I am shyer than everything would suggest.” It’s genuinely a surprise to hear this early on in my conversation with Neil Atkinson about his new book, Transformer: Klopp, the Revolution of a Club and Culture. Anyone who has heard him speak on The Anfield Wrap podcast, or many of his other media appearances, might soon get this impression that this is a man who thrives off the company of others, something that comes through in the book, too.  

Atkinson is so keen to stress the notion that football is meant to be shared with others, that any thought of him being shy really does jar. As if to make my point, when I begin by asking him why he wrote Transformer, he begins the story back in the ’21-22 season, the one he’s “almost got the most fondness for” from Jürgen Klopp’s time as Liverpool manager.  

The reason? “The redemption after the season under Covid and the idea of everyone being back together.” 

Redemption may end up being the word that best summarises Klopp’s career. An average-at-best footballer himself, he began his managerial career at Mainz 05 where he secures near-miraculous promotion to the Bundesliga in 2004, shortly followed by relegation again. He then moves to Borussia Dortmund, beating presumptive champions Bayern Munich to a Bundesliga title, before the team implodes, prompting Klopp’s resignation in 2015. Later that year, he joins Liverpool, a sleeping giant of European football that finds itself at a remarkably low ebb in its history having narrowly missed out on a long-awaited premier league title in the 2013-14 season. He leaves a much-transformed Liverpool nine years later, having been crowned English champions, European champions, and world champions in the intervening years.  

Klopp also seems to relish redemption stories in his squad, too. Jordon Henderson is nearly sold by Liverpool before Klopp arrives; Klopp makes him captain and he lifts nearly every trophy possible. Klopp signs Andy Robertson from relegated Hull FC; along with Trent Alexander-Arnold, they drastically re-invent the attacking fullback role in modern football. Chelsea reject Mo Salah who then joins Liverpool in 2017; under Klopp he becomes one of the best players in the world, and will go down in history as a genuine Liverpool legend.  

Klopp loves a redemption story because he loves people, values them, and believes in them. He loves to see people redeemed; at their best. 

 

“Liverpool is also uniquely placed – in the way that, I would argue for instance, Baltimore wasn’t – to be able to be a part of global storytelling, but on a uniquely local basis.” 

It’s fitting, then, that Transformer is a book steeped in friendship. In offering his own retelling of Klopp’s nine years as Liverpool manager, the shyer-than-you-might-think Neil Atkinson does so in conversation with the people and places he knows and loves best, and invites you, the reader, to swap in your own. “I’m going to name people and places and they won’t be the same people and places as your people, but that’s fine to substitute; you’ll sort this out. I trust you.”  

This was, it turns out, a conscious choice on his part. “I think that too often now in lots of storytelling, the idea of removing specifics is a real shame … I love The Wire. The Wire could only happen in Baltimore and there’s tons of reasons why, but there’s lots of aspects of that could be made more universal, [for example,] literally the way they talk to each other. But there’s great slabs of The Wire where they’re talking about a Baltimore radio station, because that’s the way people speak [there].”  

To tell the story of Klopp’s time as Liverpool manager is also to tell the story of the city throughout this time. Bill Shankly once famously said: “I was made for Liverpool, and Liverpool was made for me.” At times it has felt as though no-one has come as close to this as Klopp has. For Atkinson, the city’s particular culture and place in society is part of what makes the football club such a compelling team to follow for many around the world. “Liverpool is also uniquely placed – in the way that, I would argue for instance, Baltimore wasn’t – to be able to be a part of global storytelling, but on a uniquely local basis.” 

The language of ‘doubt’, ‘belief’, ‘hope’, and ‘community’ that permeate Klopp’s vocabulary seem to be shaped by the faith and hope he carries with him. 

Get updates

This, in turn, is why Klopp’s story is the city’s story. “All of that, I think, is part of why putting that [locality] central really, really matters. And I think it’s never mattered more, ironically, than while Liverpool have gone through a bit of a global explosion under Jürgen Klopp. Many people are bought in because of what they see happening locally withing Liverpool.”  

The story of the city and its people also goes some way to explaining the connection Klopp managed to cultivate with the fans. In his first press conference as Liverpool manager, one throwaway line took on a life of its own and became the motto of Klopp’s tenure: “You have to change from a doubter to a believer.”  

When I ask Atkinson why this phrase resonated so much with fans, again the city itself looms large. “I think it’s a city that likes the idea of belief. That’s just there. That’s literally centuries old. I don’t think you just knock that out [out of the city].” But Atkinson is keen to stress the importance of the other part of the phrase: “I think the diagnosis of doubt is actually the reason why it catches … the doubt part’s more important than the believer part, in a way.” 

Prior to Klopp, headstrong managers like Brendan Rogers and Rafa Benitez had come close to clinching Liverpool’s first English title since 1990 but, by the time Klopp joins in 2015, a growing contingent of fans became unsure that they would ever see Liverpool lift another top-flight trophy again. Klopp’s awareness of and solidarity with the growing doubt of Liverpool fans, is part of what endears him to them so quickly and is what allows him to lead the fanbase into a position of belief once again. 

Despite being a man of deep religious belief himself, Klopp rarely discusses his faith publicly. “So rarely!” Atkinson agrees. “I looked for it, because it's something I like to write about and something I'm intrigued by myself. So, yeah, I looked for it, but there's never enough to hang something onto.” 

As Atkinson points out, this isn’t because Klopp is afraid to share his thoughts on non-footballing maters: “He very much let us know what his opinions were on the European Union, and also wants us to agree with him, it’s worth pointing out. He didn't just have opinions on the European Union. He wanted us to agree with them. He didn't just have opinions on the vaccine. He very much wanted us to agree with him. On faith and his relationship with it, he very rarely spoke about it and so at no point has he asked anyone to agree with him.” 

Again, the context of Liverpool the city begins to clarify the nature of Klopp’s belief. “And I think he sees it as something that's deeply personal. I think he sees it as something that quite possibly – I would argue, and we don’t know – transcends Church attendance. In the same way that, for instance, we have a sense of the mosque that [Mohammed] Salah and [Sadio] Mane have attended whilst they’ve been here, people in Liverpool talk; but we don't know what church Jürgen was going to. That suggests to me that quite possibly there wasn't one. Because at some point someone would have said ‘he goes to our church’ and that never really happens, unless it's something that is so, so unbelievably private. So, I think that there is something non-conformist and I think he does see it as a personal relationship, first and foremost.” 

Despite this, the language of ‘doubt’, ‘belief’, ‘hope’, and ‘community’ that permeate Klopp’s vocabulary seem to be shaped by the faith and hope he carries with him. It’s also one of the things that made him such a compelling voice when he spoke out about some of the difficulties with following football. Whether it’s the overly congested nature of the footballing calendar and the issue of player welfare, the consistent presence of tragedy chanting at football matches, or the awful policing of Liverpool fans at the 2022 Champion’s League Final in Paris, Klopp always seemed able to articulate a better vision for how football, and even society, might operate.  

Football supporters are more than one thing.” They are neither angels nor demons; just normal people with a hobby and a passion, and a life beyond their football club. 

And so, as the conversation continues, we turn to talk about what it’s like being a match-going football fan. “Let's be clear,” Atkinson says, “there's never been some sort of unbelievably rosy moment to be a match-going football supporter … It's also worth saying that a lot of the people who still romanticize that period [i.e., football’s past] tend – but not always – tends to be white men, for whom that period was easier.” 

This isn’t to say that going to football matches is always easy. Atkinson talks about being kept in the ground by police after matches (a pretty common occurrence for away fans), and the small mercy of being allowed to go to the toilet (a less common occurrence). As Atkinson alludes to at the start of our conversation, football under Covid was grim. Despite now being a televised product, games without fans present are simply not as entertaining. And yet there remains an ongoing demonisation of football fans in some sections of public discourse.  

All this is perhaps why he is, somewhat despite himself, keen to see Transformer succeed. “I really want the book to be successful. And I'm quite surprised [by that] … But one of the reasons why I want the book to be successful is … [to show] that football supporters are more than one thing.” They are neither angels nor demons; just normal people with a hobby and a passion, and a life beyond their football club. 

“One of the things that’s made the most people laugh I ever heard at the match – it’s not some remarkable wit – but we were at [Manchester] United once and there was some fella .. and he was shouting terrible things that were like threats and all sorts of nonsense … and some other fella shouts back in a big scouse accent, ‘Shut up! You’re just an accountant from Altringham!’” If readers get nothing else from Transformer, let it be that most football fans are as banal as accountants from Altringham.  

“And that’s why I think the tragedy chanting is actually really quite deeply upsetting because the people that you’re looking at are just the same as you.” If the treatment of football fans – whether by other football fans, or by the police, or by football clubs, or by governments, or by politically-motivated quasi-national organizations – is to get better, this begins by recognizing over and over again, that they fans are just the same as you.  

We start to wrap up our conversation by talking about the future for Liverpool, of life without Klopp. “There was a thing that happened last season when I was working on the book,” Atkinson says, “I could feel the dust of nostalgia settle on people in real time, of the thing happening in front of them that they were nostalgic for. And I hated that.”  

It’s possible to read Transformer fundamentally as a polemic against nostalgia. It’s not just pointless for Atkinson, but actively damaging. “Nostalgia is, in general, a negative force. It’s a draining force. I genuinely do believe this. It’s a force that takes you out of the present into the past. That’s not necessarily bad, but it sends you into an idealized past, which the present will struggle to compete with.” Part of Klopp’s strength as a person and a manager was in recognizing this: “literally part of what Jürgen did when he was managing was go, ‘Stop being f***ing nostalgic. It’s happening now. You have the match now.’” 

Klopp was often such a compelling figure during his time at Liverpool because he was consistently, relentlessly optimistic, occasionally to a fault: “Klopp was a massive cultural force in this country, while being an optimistic, forward-looking, progressive person … but whilst he was that person, Britain went in the opposite direction.” 

And herein lies the task of carrying on Klopp’s legacy, both in Liverpool the football club, and Liverpool the city, and beyond. “Part of the challenge [facing society] is to have a message of enjoyment, of joy within it. Anyone who’s not doing that, is not facing that challenge, in any walk of life, is for me, therefore, not dealing with the core challenge … You’ve got to have the positive, progressive, ‘things will get better’ message.” And where does Jürgen draw his hope from, I wonder? 

 

Neil Atkinson's Transformer - Klopp, the Revolution of a Club and Culture will be published on 26th September, by Canongate Books