In saying why he wouldn't go into politics, George Monbiot points to a better version - a political "rewilding", from the margins inwards
In the midst of writing what sounds like a necessary book on the politics of food, environmental tyro George Monbiot broke his twitter silence to answer a question: Why haven’t you gone into politics? George’s answer was marked by his usual clarity, and resonates hugely in this space.
See below, original tweet and thread at its side:
4. To create change, we need an ecosystem: people with a wide variety of skills, performing a wide variety of tasks.
We need researchers, journalists, campaigners, organisers, supporters, fundraisers, administrators etc, as well as politicians.
5. Some of these tasks are incompatible. For instance, if I went into politics, I wouldn’t be free to decide what I think, or to change my mind as soon as the evidence changes. I would have to bite my lip and follow a party line. In other words, I couldn’t do the things I do now.
6. And above all, I want to be part of a movement that builds a new politics, a politics which no longer relies only on a few people representing us, but allows us all a greater role in decision-making. Political rewilding, in other words.
7. Such shifts cannot come from the centre. The centre will not propose a surrender of its own powers.
Society is like an amoeba. It moves from the margins.
Sentiments that many of you, as regular readers here, will recognise.
Above, George links to a late 2019 article of his on political rewilding (Monbiot has written on natural rewilding as an environmental strategy in articles and a book). On re-reading, its insights are amazingly durable:
The much bigger change is this: to stop seeking to control people from the centre. At the moment, the political model for almost all parties is to drive change from the top down. They write a manifesto, that they hope to turn into government policy, which may then be subject to a narrow and feeble consultation, which then leads to legislation, which then leads to change.
I believe the best antidote to demagoguery is the opposite process: radical trust. To the greatest extent possible, parties and governments should trust communities to identify their own needs and make their own decisions.
Over the past few years, our relationship with nature has begun to be transformed by a new approach: rewilding. Bizarre as this might sound, I believe this thinking could help inform a new model of politics. It is time for political rewilding.
When you try to control nature from the top down, you find yourself in a constant battle with it. Conservation groups in this country often seek to treat complex living systems as if they were simple ones.
Through intensive management – cutting, grazing and burning – they strive to beat nature into submission until it meets their idea of how it should behave. But ecologies, like all complex systems, are highly dynamic and adaptive, evolving (when allowed) in emergent and unpredictable ways.
Eventually, and inevitably, these attempts at control fail. Nature reserves managed this way tend to lose abundance and diversity, and require ever more extreme intervention to meet the irrational demands of their stewards.
They also become vulnerable. In all systems, complexity tends to be resilient, while simplicity tends to be fragile. Keeping nature in a state of arrested development in which most of its natural processes and its keystone species (the animals that drive these processes) are missing makes it highly susceptible to climate breakdown and invasive species.
But rewilding – allowing dynamic, spontaneous organisation to reassert itself – can result in a sudden flourishing, often in completely unexpected ways, with a great improvement in resilience.
The same applies to politics. Mainstream politics, controlled by party machines, has sought to reduce the phenomenal complexity of human society into a simple, linear model that can be controlled from the centre.
The political and economic systems it creates are simultaneously highly unstable and lacking in dynamism; susceptible to collapse, as many northern towns can testify, while unable to regenerate themselves. They become vulnerable to the toxic, invasive forces of ethno-nationalism and supremacism.
Monbiot them provides a list of examples - but we’d point you at this point to our own categories on localism and democratic innovation on A/UK.
George then concludes:
Local people have reoccupied the political space that had been captured by party machines and top-down government. They have worked out together what their communities need and how to make it happen, refusing to let politicians frame the questions or determine the answers.
The results have been extraordinary: a massive re-engagement in politics, particularly among marginalised groups, and dramatic improvements in local life. Participatory politics does not require the blessing of central government, just a confident and far-sighted local authority.
Is this a formula for a particular party to regain power? No. It’s much bigger than that. It’s a formula for taking back control, making our communities more resilient and the machinations of any government in Westminster less relevant.
This radical devolution is the best defence against capture by any political force. Let’s change the nature of politics in this country. Let’s allow the fascinating, unpredictable dynamics of a functioning society to emerge. Let the wild rumpus begin.
We’d point you, in this local election year of 2021, to the radical localisms of the Flatpack Democracy 2021 campaign and Trust the People’s citizen/community training. The rumpus is starting…