Crisis of entitlement leaves West
on the precipice of disaster.
MATTHEW SYED
“A nation is born stoic, and dies epicurean,” historian William
Durant wrote in The Story of Civilisation.
“If war is forgotten in security and peace … then toil and
suffering are replaced by pleasure and ease; science weakens
faith even while thought and comfort weaken virility and
fortitude.”
They are words that are perhaps worth pondering as the
Western world moves closer to the precipice while distracting
itself with endless cat videos and online spats about whether
plaiting hair amounts to cultural appropriation.
The alarm bells are ringing everywhere. You can hear them in
the travesty of an election taking place in the UK, the
rightward turn about to hit France’s Fifth Republic and the
parody of a debate in which a pathological liar and someone
apparently suffering cognitive decline were put forward as
prime candidates to become leader of the “greatest nation on
Earth”.
Yet even now I fear the West hasn’t figured out what is going
wrong and why.
While pundits examine exit polls and consult
focus groups, they miss the rot buried so deep in our system
that it has become all but invisible.
And – if you’ll forgive me for being candid – it has nothing to
do with hopeless leaders, Russian bots, high taxes, low taxes or being members of the wrong trading bloc. The problem is
Western electorates. Us.
Let’s briefly look at what most people agree are the symptoms
of political decay.
Debt is rising: approaching 100 per cent of GDP in the UK, 115
per cent in France and 120 per cent in the US. These are highs
previously reached at the end of World War II, when we had
just financed a conflict, after which levels rapidly fell. Today
they are set to rise – and rise (partly because of changing
demography).
The US Congressional Budget Office projects that the share of
GDP used to service the federal debt will be twice what is spent
on national security by 2041. The Office for Budget
Responsibility foresees UK debt reaching 300 per cent by 2070.
France – well, who knows what will happen if Marine Le Pen
gets the chance to enact her deluded version of populism? Let
us rattle through the other problems too: we can no longer
build, whether it is homes, roads, railways or power grids.
Then there is the addiction to low-wage immigration and
funny money (otherwise known as quantitative easing) and our
abject failure – notably in Europe – to spend adequately (or
wisely) on defence. I gration means paying workers more in the
here and now, but it also means that we are not storing up vast
fiscal liabilities and putting extra pressure on our physical
infrastructure and (if these immigrants fail to integrate)
cultural capital.
Or take public borrowing to finance current spending. We have
a choice: do we resist the temptation to use the credit card
today – which implies we will have less of everything else? Or
do we max out the Amex, enjoy extra consumption and borrow
again next year, saddling future generations with could go on,
but allow me to cut to the chase.
Policy wonks tend to analyse
these challenges in isolation and come up with what look like solutions.
For example: we can cut public debt by abiding by fiscal rules.
The problem is such rules are serially broken or subverted. The
same happens to promises on infrastructure, immigration,
monetary realism, you name it. And the reason is that the
dysfunction is a symptom of a deeper – much deeper –
problem.
For when you look again, you notice a single and, in my view,
unavoidable cause: an inability to make short-term sacrifices
to secure a brighter future; to defer instant gratification for
long-term success. We have become a civilisation that’s all
about “now, now, now” and “me, me, me” – the antithesis of
what the West once represented.
Building railways, for example, represents a sacrifice in the
here and now because the money to hire diggers and pay
workers can’t be splurged on day-to-day consumption.
But guess what: if we make this sacrifice, in a few years we will
have extra connectivity to fuel growth. Similarly, weaning
ourselves off low-wage immi crippling interest payments and
structural weakness? The latter choice is easier, but also – over
time – insidious, chipping away at the vitality of a civilisation.
My point is that success for nations, as for individuals, requires
tough choices. This is what we tell our children, isn’t it? Work
hard.
Practise. This might not be as much fun as playing another
game on the iPad but it will confer blessings that last a
lifetime. And we have words, do we not, for children who
refuse to make such sacrifices? Spoiled. Entitled.
The same, I suggest, applies to civilisations. When Rome was
lean and driven, it built infrastructure, created a superb military and grew. A few centuries later, flabby and
complacent, it wanted the blessings of success but not the
costs. The empire had entered a fantasy land, where
expenditure on ever more generous welfare payments and
bread and circuses rose beyond the capacity of the state to
afford it. So when the money ran out, the emperors debased it,
reducing the silver content until the currency was worthless.
The West is (I’d estimate) three centuries into its period of
global supremacy, roughly the time between the beginning of
the Roman principate and Diocletian’s splitting of the empire.
And is it not reasonable to note a similar pattern, with China
playing the role of the insurgent Vandals?
Yet instead of
confronting the disease, we look for scapegoats: immigrants,
populists, wokesters, MAGA, remainers, leavers and so on.
Anything to distract us from the more challenging truth that
almost every section of Western society has drifted into a state
of endemic entitlement.
And this is why, if I were prime minister, I’d be saying to
benefit claimants cheating the system: I’m coming for you. I’d
be saying to the army of rent-seekers in the administrative
state: your time is up. I’d be saying to the entitled old: I’m no
longer allowing you to use your voting numbers to rig the
system.
I’d be saying to the mobile super-wealthy: I’m closing your tax
loopholes. I’d be saying to cronyist regulators: I’m locking the
revolving door. And (some readers might not like this) to the
homeowners who enjoyed zero interest rates generated by
funny money after the financial crash, and who laughably
think they deserve their inflated gains, I’d be saying: I want to
claw some of this cash back to make the investments we so
desperately need. Yes, I’m coming for you, too.
But the devastating, potentially terminal truth is that a critical
mass of voters are not ready to hear this. They are too comfortable in the delusion of their own entitlement,
pretending the problem lies with everyone else (in this sense,
polarisation is another symptom of the rot). And let’s not
pretend the problem is short election cycles or hopeless
politicians, because these retailers – Starmer, Sunak, Biden,
Trump, Farage – are merely regurgitating different versions of
the fantasy voters wish to hear, but never daring to tell the
whole truth.
In a seminal intervention recently the superb Paul Johnson, of
the Institute for Fiscal Studies, called the British election a
“conspiracy of silence”, but I’d suggest the true conspiracy
engulfs the whole Western world. Our only hope is to escape
our delusion and embrace realism.
For perhaps the killer point is this: as the audacity and
brilliance of Western civilisation degenerates before our eyes,
it is the world’s autocrats who are rubbing their hands with
glee.