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The stupidity of politics

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Westminster politics is simply stupid. That’s one inference we should draw from the latest Mandelson scandal.

If your final shortlist for a job comprises Mandelson, George Osborne (and maybe Bear Grylls) but not anyone with direct relevant experience such as career diplomats then you’ve probably not even bothered to do a detailed job description; you’ve not asked “what’s the shape of the hole we want to fill and who is that shape?”. One of the most prestigious jobs in government seems to have been filled with less care than an investment bank would take over the hiring of a junior analyst.

This, however, is by no means the only way in which political decisions fall far short of basic professionalism. Here are some others:

- The government ignores opportunity cost. For example, in funding Sizewell C or Transport for City Regions, in supporting the expansion of Heathrow, or in wanting to increase the share of GDP spent on the military, it doesn’t say what is being cut, or not being done, to pay for these projects. We can’t therefore know whether these are good ideas or not. That’s a failure of basic project appraisal. And opportunity cost is not the only basic economic idea of which the government seems unaware: there’s also regulatory capture, transactions cost economics and the tragedy of the commons for example.

- Shabana Mahmood claims that 350,000 “low-skilled” workers and their dependents qualifying for settlement in the UK over the next five years represent a £10 billion cost to the taxpayer. This is not only almost certainly false in its own terms, but misunderstands economics: “low skill” is the product of ideology and a low level of economic development, not just individual characteristics.

- Sir Keir Starmer seems not to understand the basics of what the job of Prime Minister should be. It should be to set out a basic strategy (”vision” if you like) for government and to resolve conflicts between departments. But observers agree that he is terrible at both of these.

- Starmer thought there were “policy levers” which he could pull and easily achieve results, only to discover that there weren’t. This is a double failure: to not appreciate history (many ministers before him made the same mistake (pdf)); and to fail to understand that policy-making isn’t a simple engineering issue but is more like gardening, an exercise in guided emergence.

- Labour’s promise not to raise tax or national insurance rates makes intelligent tax reform more difficult - for example by lumbering us with the £100,000 pa “tax trap” which deters people from working more, changing job or getting promotions.

- The government’s fiscal rule that the current budget should be in surplus by 2029-30 means that fiscal policy depends upon a forecast that is inherently volatile, with the result that policy itself is unstable. If that’s not daft enough, targeting net financial debt means that the government considers only one side of its balance sheet and ruling out the acquisition of potentially lucrative assets: a household with such a rule, for example, would never take out a mortgage.

- There’s great concern with opinion polls, without anybody asking: how is public opinion formed and changed? and is it really a reliable guide to what people really want or to good policy-making?

None of these examples are merely of individuals mis-speaking in a throwaway remark. They are instead fundamental to how the government operates, and are examples of a basic failure to understand social science and government. No sane person would run a household or business with the lack of care or intellect that the government devotes to its affairs.

And this is with the “grown-ups” in charge. If we could bear to look beyond Labour, we’d see the LibDems and Greens wanting to over-ride the price signal of high oil prices; people of all parties drivelling about the benefits system without having endured applying for PIP; and whatever nonsense comes from Reform.

Politics, then, is fundamentally stupid.

Why have things sunk so low?

It could be that what’s happening is incentivized stupidity. Just as bankers had no incentive to spot risk in the run-up to the financial crisis, so politicians have no incentive to act intelligently. Voters are woefully ignorant about basic social facts, and the media ensures that they remain so. Politicians have an incentive to pander to this ignorance. And many on Labour’s right, it seems, would rather “bash the Trots” and get a well-paid job after leaving parliament than actually win the next election.

This, however, is only part of the story. It doesn’t explain why Starmer was willing to risk losing so much political capital appointing Mandelson as US Ambassador. And anyone wanting a job outside parliament surely has an incentive to give the impression of not being an idiot. What’s more, the media was more powerful in the 90s and early 00s than it is now (at least if power is proportionate to circulation) and yet Blair and (especially) Brown managed to govern intelligently.

Something else, then, is going on.

Partly, it’s a part of a general dumbing down: just compare the BBC’s output now to (say) Civilization or the Ascent of Man. In particular, what Simon Wren-Lewis calls the “knowledge transmission mechanism” (pdf) has broken. Academics, perhaps because of pressure to publish, have retreated from the public realm to be replaced by junktanks and newspaper columnists. Whereas Thatcher would regularly refer in her speeches to Friedman, Hayek or Popper, her epigones cite nobody of comparable standing.

There’s something else. We’ve lost the conception of politics as a discrete profession in which trade-offs and conflicts of interest are managed by our representatives. Instead, politics is seen as just another retail experience where we leave bad reviews if we don’t get what we want. The public sphere has suffered from a tragedy of the commons, leaving a wasteland with no place for politicians wanting to do anything other than fulfill the orders of billionaires and shadowy donors.

Whatever the reason, the fact is the same. Westminster politics is something which no intelligent person can look upon with anything other than revulsion. We are in the position described by Alasdair MacIntyre at the end of After Virtue: how to build communities to sustain intellectual life during our new dark age.

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It’s no surprise Trump has met his match in Pope Leo – the US president represents the polar opposite of Christianity | Jonathan Freedland

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Name the deadliest of sins – cruelty, deceit, avarice – and Trump will both exhibit them and celebrate them

It’s no accident that the figure emerging as the global challenger to the might of Donald Trump is a priest in white, known as Pope Leo XIV. In recent weeks, the pope has issued a string of barely coded denunciations of the US president, unfazed by the insults that have come his way in return. It’s no longer fanciful to imagine that what an eastern European pontiff, John Paul II, did by confronting the Soviet empire in the 1980s, an American-born pope may do in the 2020s by daring to speak truth to the would-be emperor in the White House.

Of course, several heads of government have stood up to Trump too. Canada’s Mark Carney has done it most explicitly, while his European counterparts have taken a stand by refusing to join the president’s reckless, wrong-headed war on Iran. But none has the global reach of the leader of the world’s 1.4 billion Catholics.

Jonathan Freedland is a Guardian columnist

Do you have an opinion on the issues raised in this article? If you would like to submit a response of up to 300 words by email to be considered for publication in our letters section, please click here.

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Palantir's social media manifesto is a blueprint for technofascism

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The recent 22-point post on X by Palantir Technologies outlining the philosophy of its co-founder and CEO Alex Karp – on everything from compulsory national service to a new age of deterrence built in AI – is quite an event. It’s one thing for a government or political party to articulate and compete over a political vision: that’s expected, even mandatory. It’s another for a private company, especially one deeply embedded in state security and surveillance, to do so. This is not just advertisement by a leading global tech arms dealer. It’s a manifesto. And for any friend of democracy, reading it is like opening a food item that you suspected has gone off, but you didn’t know it was that much off.

Palantir, led by Alexander Karp and founded by Peter Thiel, is not a political thinktank. It is not an elected body. It’s not accountable to the public. It’s a contractor: a tech firm that builds powerful software and data infrastructure used by militaries, intelligence agencies and law enforcement around the world. When such a company begins to speak in sweeping ideological terms about the direction society should take, it raises questions, and rightly so.

But it’s the content, tone and subtext of the post – distilled from Karp’s book The Technological Republic: Hard Power, Soft Belief and the Future of the West – that makes it especially unsettling and why we must pay attention. Rather than sticking to product announcements, it advances a worldview. A political ideology, and a very particular one: one that is openly hostile to liberal democracy, rejects pluralism, inclusion, and empathy, instead embracing “hard power” (read: violence) and permanent warfare (ideal if you’re an arms dealer), calling for sacrifices for the nation and drafting people into military service, cracking down on crime, welcoming religion in the realm of power, dismissing the equality of cultures in favour of western supremacy and elitism, deeming interiority and reflection unnecessary when it comes to the masses (that’s reserved for the elite), promoting collaboration between Big Tech and state, endorsing the suppression of dissent by means of a surveillance system that always knows how to find you, demanding the rearmament of Germany and Japan, and arguing for technological dominance over the enemies of the state. 

Not the usual language of tech, not even Big Tech. If this sounds familiar, it should. The glorification of strength, warfare and the nation, the subordination of citizens to the state, and the entanglement of corporate and state power rings a very specific bell: a fascist one. Silicon Valley has been drifting in that direction for some time now – think of Elon Musk, Peter Thiel, and others. But now things are getting more consequential.

In my book Why AI Undermines Democracy and in my paper on technofascism, I warned against a political trajectory in which digital technologies do not merely support governance but begin to reshape it in authoritarian directions. The danger is not only overt repression and warmongering but also a subtler transformation: the normalisation of surveillance, the delegation of judgment to opaque systems, and the quiet concentration of power in the actors who design and control these infrastructures.

Palantir does not only exist to make money. With its ties to state power, and in particular the Trump regime, the goal is power accumulation. Not so much for the state in question, but for the tech executives themselves. Technological elites begin to function as quasi-political authorities without democratic legitimacy. The engineer, the data scientist, but especially the billionaire, is recast as arbiter of social order. Who needs a parliament?

There is something distinctly authoritarian in the subtext of Palantir’s post. The emphasis on total visibility, on integrating disparate data streams into a single operational picture, on enabling faster and more decisive action. From a business and engineering perspective, all this can be framed as a call for efficiency. But efficiency, what Karp’s beloved Frankfurt School – he studied under Jürgen Habermas – called instrumental rationality, can become a political value that overrides others: deliberation, pluralism, dissent. In such a system, the friction of democratic processes is not a feature but a bug to be engineered away. This belief does not arrive wearing the obvious symbols of 20th-century authoritarianism; it comes dressed as security, innovation, optimisation and progress.

Palantir’s manifesto frames its tech as a response to the lack of order and security: the belief that advanced technology can and should be used to impose order on a complex, unruly world, guided by those who build and understand these systems.

The tech imperium envisaged here is put forward as an answer to a particular framing of the problem: a framing introduced by Hobbes in the 17th century and further developed by German political theorist Carl Schmitt – who provided legal and philosophical cover for the Nazi regime. Hobbes held the pessimistic view that without authoritarian order, humans don’t manage to live together. He justified absolute state authority as the force that could restore order. A Leviathan to rule over people. Palantir’s answer to chaos at the global level is similar. The message to their clients is: make sure you’re the winner, dominate, and order is restored. Forget multilateralism; become the strongest and impose your order on all others.

Tech is the ideal tool for that: you don’t need to talk to people, try to convince them, argue with them. Habermas is passé; Schmitt is back. You just need to make sure you’re the strongest. The aim is to make “software that dominates”, as Palantir puts it on its X account profile. In other words, it aims to build the new Leviathan: the Hobbesian monster that guarantees security, but that comes at the price of freedom and democracy. Karp and Thiel are prepared to pay that price; or rather, they want you to pay it.

The most troubling part is that this vision is not hypothetical. Palantir and its political allies have already partly implemented it. Predictive policing tools shape how law enforcement allocates resources. Immigration systems rely on AI to track and categorise individuals. Military operations increasingly depend on real-time data fusion platforms and AI is used to select targets for air strikes. Palantir’s software is a central part of this ecosystem. It’s used by the US government and Israel, but also by law enforcement in the EU and UK, and in Britain’s NHS. When the company describes a world organised around these capabilities, it is not imagining the future: it is describing the present, just extended and intensified. The contracts are signed. People have been detained. Bombs have fallen. 

This is a gradual, infrastructural shift, not a sudden break into authoritarianism, but a slow recalibration of what feels normal via the entanglement of tech with power. The more these systems are embedded, the more their underlying assumptions – about control, visibility, and power – fade into the background. The problem is structural. Once the violence and technocracy are normalised, the way back to democracy narrows. 

But this is not inevitable. We can and must defend democracy. In a healthy democracy, the direction of society is contested in public, through institutions designed – however imperfectly – to reflect the will of the people. Private tech companies have every right to participate in that conversation. But when their participation takes the form of promoting a model that concentrates power in the very systems they control, scepticism and resistance are not only warranted but necessary. Palantir’s post offers us a glimpse of the technofascist trajectory: not as a distant possibility, but as a world already under construction.

Perhaps that’s why it all sounds so confident. Karp is a happy man.

Mark Coeckelbergh is professor of philosophy at University of Vienna. His new book is called Artificial Religion: On AI, Myth and Power (MIT Press). This is an edited version of a post from his Medium blog

The Nerve is a fearless, independent media title launched by five former Guardian / Observer journalists: investigative journalist Carole Cadwalladr, editors Sarah Donaldson, Jane Ferguson and Imogen Carter and creative director Lynsey Irvine. We cover culture, politics and tech, brought to you in twice weekly newsletters on Tuesdays and Fridays (sign up here). We rely on funding from our community, so please also consider joining us as a paying member. You can read more about our mission here.
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The rush to appease Trump led Keir Starmer into this ethical void | Rafael Behr

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Peter Mandelson’s flaws were mistaken for credentials to represent Britain in the court of a rogue president

You can’t kill something that is already dead. New details about Peter Mandelson’s disastrous appointment as Britain’s ambassador to Washington can trigger more paroxysms of outrage in Westminster. They can sharpen the pitch of opposition calls for the prime minister to resign. They can reinforce the view among Labour MPs that Keir Starmer shouldn’t lead them into a general election. But they can’t produce consensus around a replacement, or invent a way to choose one without self-destructive factional feuding.

Labour MPs’ craving for better leadership has been finely balanced with fear of holding a contest and emerging with someone worse. There is no final straw yet to come because the camel’s back was broken months ago.

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The decision of a Prime Minister

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19 April 2026

Only one person decided to appoint Lord Mandelson

*

Once upon a time there was a ruler who made a bad decision.

All the courtiers and servants knew it was a bad decision, but they put into effect the bad decision, for the ruler had already made and proclaimed the decision.

And when it turned out to be a very bad decision indeed, those courtiers and servants were sacked by the now “furious” ruler.

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When the current Prime Minister of the United Kingdom makes a bad decision it always seems that others must take the blame.

Of course, such shruggery is not unusual in politics: one does not usually become a Prime Minister by being the sort that resigns from jobs. That is not how one climbs what Disraeli called the greasy pole to Prime Ministerial office.

But when Keir Starmer appointed Lord Mandelson as ambassador to the United States (thereby sacking a perfectly capable ambassador), it was very much his decision.

A decision which only the Prime Minister could make.

View differ on the reason for the appointment. Perhaps the sui generis problem of President Trump needed a sui generis appointment of a “Trump-Whisperer”. Perhaps, as many political journalists aver, it was simply because it was believed by senior Labour politicians that Mandelson somehow deserved a job in return for something or other.

The reason, however, really does not matter: it was plain that the Prime Minister had made a decision, and it was a decision announced as soon as possible.

And this is the important thing: it was the decision of the Prime Minister.

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Yet it is others who are having to resign: the ambassador, the chief of staff, and now the head official at the foreign office.

We do not have full information as to the vetting process (and it is itself a remarkable security failure that we all know as much about this vetting process as we do, if you think about it).

It may be there was some form of communication between the foreign office and Downing Street, even if deft or unspoken, or it may be that the foreign office did not pass on the results of the vetting process so to give effect to the Prime Minister had already and publicly decided.

In either case, the responsibility for the decision is with the Prime Minister.

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But the Prime Minister does not want to take responsibility for his decision.

He will keep sacking other people instead – none of who made the decision, and none of whom are accountable to parliament for the decision that only he made.

Whether the Prime Minister misled parliament or the world at large about what he knew is now bogged-down in a depressing game of semantics.

What will not happen, it seems, is that the Prime Minister will take actual responsibility for his bad decision to appoint Mandelson as ambassador: for that would mean it was wrong of him to sack his chief of staff and the senior official at the foreign office.

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All this shows how important it was for the House of Commons to take the decisions on disclosure of papers related to Mandelson’s appointment out of the hands of the Prime Minister.

That vote by the House of Commons was of immense political and constitutional significance. Members of Parliament decided that the Prime Minister could not be trusted to apply “national security” in disclosure matters.

The consequences of that momentous vote are now becoming more and more obvious.

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Either we have Prime Ministerial accountability or we do not.

This is not a situation where a minister is being asked to take responsibility for decisions by officials – the Crichel Down situation.

That wider doctrine of ministerial accountability was always unrealistic: a minister cannot possibly know or approve of every decision in their department.

This is about a Prime Minister taking responsibility for their own decision – a high-level decision which only a Prime Minister can take.

And whatever further details is still come out about the matter, it will always have been the Prime Minister’s decision to appoint Mandelson.

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Once upon a time there was ruler who was “furious” at being expected to be a ruler.

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The Brexit delusion is dead – so now Keir Starmer doesn’t need to pretend any more | Rafael Behr

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To rebuild relations with Europe in a dangerous world, the prime minister needs to win big arguments, not hide behind outdated red lines

In opposition, Keir Starmer pushed Brexit to the margin of debate. In government, he has learned that Europe is central to Britain’s interests whether you talk about it or not. The avoidance of painful arguments from the past turns out to be a handicap when making plans for the future.

This was predictable. Labour’s 2024 general election manifesto pretended that Brexit was a historical event. It was something Boris Johnson got “done” in 2020, in fulfilment of his winning campaign pledge from the previous year. The terms could be tweaked, but Starmer promised to preserve the substance. That was an indulgence of public fatigue with the whole issue, made electorally expedient by fear of offending former Labour supporters who had voted leave in the referendum.

Rafael Behr is a Guardian columnist

Guardian Newsroom: Can Labour come back from the brink?
On Thursday 30 April, join Gaby Hinsliff, Zoe Williams, Polly Toynbee and Rafael Behr as they discuss how much of a threat Labour faces from the Green party and Reform UK – and whether Keir Starmer can survive as leader. Book tickets here

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