Neoliberalism: the deep story that lies beneath Donald Trump’s triumph. The events that led to Donald Trump’s election started in England in 1975.
At a meeting a few months after Margaret Thatcher became leader of the Conservative party, one of her colleagues, or so the story goes, was explaining what he saw as the core beliefs of conservatism. She snapped open her handbag, pulled out a dog-eared book, and slammed it on the table. “This is what we believe,” she said. A political revolution that would sweep the world had begun. The book was The Constitution of Liberty by Frederick Hayek. This, at any rate, is how it was originally conceived. He begins the book by advancing the narrowest possible conception of liberty: an absence of coercion. Democracy, by contrast, “is not an ultimate or absolute value”. He justifies this position by creating a heroic narrative of extreme wealth. The ultra rich are “scouts”, “experimenting with new styles of living”, who blaze the trails that the rest of society will follow.
Is this the end of the British art school? When the Great Exhibition opened its doors in 1851, Britain’s reputation as the workshop of the world was on the wane.
Few visitors would have known it at the time, but the exhibition signified the high watermark of British manufacturing. French design and Prussian engineering were already edging ahead. In 2012, London hosted another event designed to present Britain to the world – one which referenced the upheaval of the Industrial Revolution by featuring towering smoke stacks and beating drums. Danny Boyle’s Olympic opening ceremony represented British history as a creative blossoming that started in the nineteenth century but seemed to reach its zenith in the twentieth century when fashion, film and pop music boomed. And yet it seems to me that Boyle’s Olympic opener – just like the Great Exhibition – was telling a story about Britain that had already ceased to be true. How have these corporations colonised our public life? One of Unilever's ‘real women' series of advertisements for Dove.
Photograph: PA How do you engineer a bland, depoliticised world, a consensus built around consumption and endless growth, a dream world of materialism and debt and atomisation, in which all relations can be prefixed with a dollar sign, in which we cease to fight for change? You delegate your powers to companies whose profits depend on this model. Power is shifting: to places in which we have no voice or vote. Domestic policies are forged by special advisers and spin doctors, by panels and advisory committees stuffed with lobbyists.
To me, the giant consumer goods company Unilever, with which I clashed over the issue of palm oil a few days ago, symbolises these shifting relationships. It seems to have representation almost everywhere. Sometimes Unilever uses this power well. Sometimes it seems to play both ends of the game. Guggenheim Project Confronts Conceptual Art’s Nature. Here Are 11 Top "Screw Capitalism" Lines in Pope Francis' New Message. Argentina is hardly socialist.
It's kind of populist dictatorship, there is very little communism per se. The junta was right-wing. A better, but flawed comparison would be with Brasil, which is much more leftist, but also larger, with more poverty and bigger cities. Also, Chile is capitalist because of the original 9/11: One of the greater US-backed human rights crimes of the 20th century!! Also, Chile has a small population, tons of coastline, and rich resources in the form of copper, salt and rare earth metals, as well as an educated population.
If private property exists in a nation then that nation is not a socialist nation. True, Argentina (was just there), is more a populist dictatorship. Argentina too has a very well educated populous, and plenty of natural resources, more so than Chile. I am aware of the coup, and I really think our involvement in that coup is rather overstated. Pinochet? Allende? Besides most of Chile's prosperity has been since the return to democracy. The Soaring Cost of a Simple Breath.
Masha Tupitsyn: Made It. Why France is gearing up for a culture war with the United States. Do you remember the most Homeric of world trade negotiations, called the Uruguay round, which took place between 1986 and 1994?
I was a teenager then and I remember that round of the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (Gatt) vividly. I had taken to reading the austere Le Monde every day and remember the uncouth Jack Valenti, head of the Motion Picture Association in Hollywood, who particularly despised European film directors for pleading with their governments to exclude cinema, and the arts in general, from the negotiations. Valenti roared back: "Culture is like chewing-gum, a product like any other. " At the time, France's President François Mitterrand led the rebellion and, sphinx-like, treated the like of Valenti with hauteur. He retorted: "The mind's creations are no mere commodities and can't be treated as such.
" Twenty years later, we're back at it with the opening of talks for a new transatlantic trade agreement.