I’ll confess upfront: my copy of this book was signed by George Monbiot himself at this year’s Byline Festival, where I saw him speak. You might infer I was predisposed to enjoy it. I couldn’t possibly comment.
That shouldn’t take away from the incisive, impassioned arguments the authors make about the world and the systems we live in. There are so many ‘Oh, so that’s why…!’ moments in these pages that remain unshakeable long after you finish reading.
Monbiot and Hutchison take us back to neoliberalism’s origins in the theories of Friedrich Hayek and his ilk in the 1930s and describe its ascent to our unstable, populist present. They demonstrate beyond doubt how, from the shadows, the doctrine dominates and degrades the quality of our lives today.
The Invisible Doctrine: it’s all in the ‘neo’
In contrast to liberalism, which champions the liberty of people to live how they choose, neoliberalism is all about the freedom of capital. Capital must be unconstrained by ‘red tape’ (read: environmental and human protection), or government intervention (read: democracy). The market reigns over all – including, most especially, the people.
According to the neoliberal, we are no longer social, co-operative animals, but competitive, consumerist individuals making a thousand isolated decisions each day that shape a self-regulating market. Only by allowing this process to operate unfettered can we be sure of human progress and prosperity. And of course, neoliberalism holds that as the rich get richer, we are all better off. This despite the evidence to the contrary from across the globe.
Nonetheless, neoliberals argue this is not just one way to organise human life, it is the only way, akin to natural law. So much so that sometime around the 1950s, the term neoliberalism all but disappeared, replaced by the assumption that this is just the way things were and should be.
It’s easy to chart neoliberalism’s return in my own lifetime: from Margaret Thatcher’s public asset car boot sale and assertion that “there is no such thing as society”, through the banking crash of 2008, the bailouts and austerity, to Liz Truss’s ‘supply side’ mini-budget debacle. Neoliberalism’s been there all along, growing not organically, but through decades of orchestrated effort on the part of its elite beneficiaries.
Control of the narrative
It is remarkable how neoliberalism has endured the assault of real-world consequences of its own failings. Truss’s experiment cost the UK £30bn as the pound tanked overnight. Our government handed banks £137bn in the 2008 crash to protect them against the consequences of their own poor standards. Meanwhile, poverty and social isolation soar and the world is on track for a catastrophic 2-3 degrees of warming due to human overconsumption.
Hardly a glowing résumé, though neoliberalism’s success in enriching the already obscenely wealthy is undisputed. So why are we not out on the streets demanding an end to this nonsense? How is neoliberalism not on its knees by now?
Monbiot and Hutchison show us how much its proponents invest in flogging this dead horse to the public. Through the media, and through political and opaquely funded think tanks which pose as impartial commentators, we are pacified.
The story is honed and adapted to the issue at hand: Truss’s mini-budget was the right idea but implemented too quickly (or not quickly enough, depending on narrative need); the Labour government caused the banking crash with their profligate spending and now we must ‘live within our means’; publicly owned railways are inefficient; competition in the healthcare sector drives up quality. On that last point – spoiler alert: it does not. It leads to fragmentation of services, a race to the bottom, and a criminal waste of public funds in administration of competitive tendering processes.
The authors have a compelling story to tell about this narrative that gives neoliberalism its sheen of inevitability. If this many ‘independent’ thinkers across the public sphere support its tenets, then it must be right. Never mind their barely mentioned connections to vested interests, and to each other. Take, for example, The Sun and The Times: vastly different readerships, same oligarchal owner, same agenda.
Control of politics
In this carefully crafted, homogenous context, the Overton window narrows and it’s easy to brand any counterargument as extreme. Recall, for example, the media’s response to Jeremy Corbyn’s policies on nationalisation, or the US’s revulsion for ‘socialised medicine’ despite a huge body of evidence against insurance-based healthcare.
It explains why, despite the fact that the majority of the UK public support public ownership of utilities, it has yet to happen. We are led to believe that practical solutions to our problems that chime with public opinion and common sense but do not enrich capital – such as public water companies or energy sector reform – are unachievable or undesirable.
The further apart the interests of capital and the rest of us, the more capital must invest in legitimising its position to avoid overthrow. And so politics comes to be controlled by the dirtiest interests – what the authors call the pollution paradox. If you think this might be the reason we’re still addicted to fossil fuels despite the daily evidence of climate breakdown, you might be on to something. The term gaslighting is over-used but was never more relevant.
Breaking free
The book offers us little promise that a new government will lead to meaningful change. Why would it, when capital interests saw the transfer of power coming in good time and started ‘investing’ in the new regime?
Yet, as happened when I saw Monbiot speak, the book took me to the brink of hopelessness before offering solutions. The authors explain that our planet consists of complex systems; a fact poorly understood because we are all taught about these systems as though they are simple. One example: if you remember the water cycle from school, you’ll know there was little coverage of the Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation (AMOC), how it interacts with the cycle, and its implications for the European climate.
In contrast to simple, linear systems, when change happens in a complex system, it happens rapidly through a multitude of small interactions. Monbiot and Hutchison point to examples such as marriage equality, in which gay marriage was unthinkable until it was obvious. This means that, even from where we are now, change is possible. It’s even inevitable.
Tipping points
Research suggests we reach a social tipping point when around 25% of people are onboard. Social consensus and desire not to be left behind take care of the rest. It gives me hope that every small act – every article, every protest, every conversation – is a worthwhile step towards this reachable goal.
Just as important is a compelling story about where we want to be, and how we could get there. The aim of a rich public life as opposed to ever more concentrated wealth for the few off the back of paucity for the many is one worth pursuing.
My day job involves managing change in large, complex organisations. We often talk about holding up a long-term vision and assessing each small step against its ability to move us closer to that vision. It’s the same idea, and it works for us every day. I see no reason it shouldn’t work for a broader spectrum of issues …
Viewed in this light, the examples Monbiot and Hutchison give of pockets of community action and collective decision-making across the globe add up to more than the sum of their parts. They are chapters of a transformative story, developing a counternarrative of connection and participation to combat the isolation of neoliberalism.
As a whole, The Invisible Doctrine serves as a clear-eyed critique of so much we accept as inevitable about modern life: detachment, inequality, and brutal competition. The ideas expressed within might hold the key to returning human life to something approaching a natural, state of equilibrium. We can hope.
George Monbiot, Peter Hutchison, The Invisible Doctrine: The Secret History of Neoliberalism (& How It Came to Control Your Life). Penguin Books 2024.
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