This hard-hitting, eloquent, highly perceptive, and yet inevitably controversial book argues that there have been three, or rather three and a half, revolutions in how states are governed in the West over the last 350 years. Now, the two authors believe, the time has come for a fourth.
The three great revolutions, pioneered, they argue, in the UK, began with the invention of the concept of a nation state based on a contract between rulers and the ruled. This happened in the mind of Thomas Hobbes, author of Leviathan, in the late 17th century, just when ultimate power was finally being wrested from the monarchy and taken over by parliament.
Next came the liberal revolution of the 19th century, when it became accepted that all men, and eventually women too, had a right to be included in the operation of this state. Third, in the 20th century, arrived the idea of the welfare state, that the state was legitimately responsible for providing for its citizens, notably in the fields of education, health and employment (especially unemployment).
This hugely powerful, and hugely responsible, state has now, in the opinion of these authors, become top-heavy. With ageing populations, widespread unemployment and unreal expectations, it can no longer raise the money to provide all these services on a long-term basis. An attempt to cut back on this state spending was staged in the UK by Margaret Thatcher, and she, together with the economist Milton Friedman in the US, constitute the “half revolution” that takes the authors’ tally up to three-and-a half.
The much-needed fourth revolution, it’s argued, is currently taking place in Asia. Democracy isn’t necessarily going to be central to it, and though the welfare of citizens will certainly constitute a significant part of its goal, this may well be brought about by quasi-authoritarian means. Details of what is to be done, we’re told, are being actively worked out in China, and the model that is in the forefront of many minds there is Singapore.
The authors are two senior writers on The Economist. Though they believe that the state has become too powerful, they’re not by any means opposed to the state altogether. The Western European states have much to be proud of, they write, for instance in their healthcare systems. They simply want the state to be smaller and more efficient, and people to be freer. They are also enthusiasts for democracy.
After a lengthy but trenchant introduction, the authors embark on four substantial chapters on, respectively, Hobbes, the great liberal thinker John Stuart Mill, the pioneering thinker on welfare state ideas Beatrice Webb and Milton Friedman. It’s only after this, plus a quick survey of the situation in California, that attention finally turns to the East.
First of all, the authors hold up Singapore as the model of a small but efficient government that looks after its people’s welfare by generally authoritarian methods. China, they go on to argue, would like to follow this lead, but is held back by, among other things, corruption. It was placed 80th on a recent Transparency International listing, 75 places behind Singapore, though the most recent news is that this abuse is now being actively confronted.
The authors point to Beijing’s opting for an extensive meritocracy rather than Western democracy per se, though they do highlight the gigantic assets of its “red princelings.” They end, however, by commending the general Chinese tendency to look far ahead, while not many people in Washington, they quip, are capable of thinking beyond the 2016 presidential election.
The authors then turn to the Scandinavian countries. These, they think, are in many ways managing government best of all. Sweden, Denmark, Norway and Finland, they argue, act like socialist countries in delivering services to their people, but use capitalist competition to ensure that this provision is as efficient and economical as possible.
The book then goes on to pin-point the specific virtues of the best government initiatives — versatility, use of IT, localization and so on.
The book’s conclusion is approached via a re-assertion of the 19th century liberal ideal of freedom, something that has been eroded by both left-wing controls and phenomena such as the post-9/11 US security system — whistleblowers Chelsea Manning and Edward Snowden each get their moment in the limelight here.
Pursuing our own good in our own way was how Mill defined freedom, and these authors agree with him. Trimmed-down government that makes full use of IT and shops around for the cheapest ways to provide cut-back services — this in brief is these authors’ recipe for a bright and sustainable future. Freedom and democracy, but also efficiency, will be its hallmarks.
I have three criticisms of this well-argued and often entertaining book. The first is that Taiwan would be a better model for an Asian democracy than Singapore. Human Rights Watch comments that “the Singapore government continues to impose wide-ranging restrictions on core civil and political rights,” and Amnesty International considers its practice of judicial caning to be a “cruel, inhuman and degrading punishment.” Taiwan, by contrast, could have been cited, among many other things, for its libertarian ethos, and for its medical insurance scheme which has been rated among the best in the world.
Secondly, in a world beset by global challenges such as the over-fishing of our oceans and climate change, more supra-national institutions with real power, such as the EU, might be deemed necessary, in parallel perhaps with the paring down of local state authority.
And thirdly, military spending rather than social welfare is what impoverishes many states. It is this that should be the real object of attention.
These qualifications aside, The Fourth Revolution is a fascinating book. Its argument will attract many, and its information, especially on the solutions to governmental problems of the Scandinavian countries, should enlighten many more. If you’re looking for a center-right political book that’s panoramic, highly informed, and intensely readable, this could well be it.
In late October of 1873 the government of Japan decided against sending a military expedition to Korea to force that nation to open trade relations. Across the government supporters of the expedition resigned immediately. The spectacle of revolt by disaffected samurai began to loom over Japanese politics. In January of 1874 disaffected samurai attacked a senior minister in Tokyo. A month later, a group of pro-Korea expedition and anti-foreign elements from Saga prefecture in Kyushu revolted, driven in part by high food prices stemming from poor harvests. Their leader, according to Edward Drea’s classic Japan’s Imperial Army, was a samurai
The following three paragraphs are just some of what the local Chinese-language press is reporting on breathlessly and following every twist and turn with the eagerness of a soap opera fan. For many English-language readers, it probably comes across as incomprehensibly opaque, so bear with me briefly dear reader: To the surprise of many, former pop singer and Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) ex-lawmaker Yu Tien (余天) of the Taiwan Normal Country Promotion Association (TNCPA) at the last minute dropped out of the running for committee chair of the DPP’s New Taipei City chapter, paving the way for DPP legislator Su
It’s hard to know where to begin with Mark Tovell’s Taiwan: Roads Above the Clouds. Having published a travelogue myself, as well as having contributed to several guidebooks, at first glance Tovell’s book appears to inhabit a middle ground — the kind of hard-to-sell nowheresville publishers detest. Leaf through the pages and you’ll find them suffuse with the purple prose best associated with travel literature: “When the sun is low on a warm, clear morning, and with the heat already rising, we stand at the riverside bike path leading south from Sanxia’s old cobble streets.” Hardly the stuff of your
Located down a sideroad in old Wanhua District (萬華區), Waley Art (水谷藝術) has an established reputation for curating some of the more provocative indie art exhibitions in Taipei. And this month is no exception. Beyond the innocuous facade of a shophouse, the full three stories of the gallery space (including the basement) have been taken over by photographs, installation videos and abstract images courtesy of two creatives who hail from the opposite ends of the earth, Taiwan’s Hsu Yi-ting (許懿婷) and Germany’s Benjamin Janzen. “In 2019, I had an art residency in Europe,” Hsu says. “I met Benjamin in the lobby