As if a downpour on the long holiday weekend (and Coronation Day) were not enough to dampen the spirits, I just read Ian Dunt’s How Westminster Works … and Why It Doesn’t. It’s an excellent book, forensic in its analysis of the operations of the UK’s central government – and that is exactly why it’s so deeply depressing and angry-making. The chapters cover both the political processes – selection of MPs, role of special advisers, the imbalance of power between the Executive and Parliament, lobby journalism – and the official aspects – an amateur-by-design civil service that’s becoming ever-less capable, increasing tensions between ministers and officials, the dire impact of the Treasury. The book is even handed, pointing out that many of the trends that make for ineffective government today started in the 1990s or before, and were accelerated significantly by New Labour, before being turbo-charged by the succession of Conservative governments that have followed.

My takeaways are:

• It would actually be a bad idea to reform the House of Lords as it’s the only part that semi-functions
• None of the actors in UK national politics have any incentive to change anything – for instance, proportional representation would be excellent but neither Tories nor Labour want it
• I already thought more devolution to sub-national levels is desirable, and now think it’s the only hope of introducing any competence into UK government (although many people in Whitehall and Westminster have the cheek to talk about a lack of capacity at local level).

If you really want to get angry about the pervasive incompetence of the government, just read the chapter on Afghanistan. Shameful.

The book ought to go on every reading list for UK politics and government courses, and be read by all interested citizens. Buy it and despair. It complements Paul Johnson‘s excellent and equally angry-making Follow The Money, and my colleague Dennis Grube‘s more equable but still damning Why Governments Get It Wrong and How They Can Get It Right. Perhaps the most depressing thing in the UK is that when Donald Trump started destroying the US government’s efficacy (documented in Michael Lewis’s The Fifth Risk) he intended to do so. Our politicians and officials are destructive by accident. Destroying democracy through incompetence is somehow even more dispriting than doing so through malevolence.

What makes this even more depressing is that the need for effective government is increasing – collective action challenges like climate change, new security concerns, technological transformations all point to an increased need for a strategic economic policy framework. This isn’t going to happen if all the politicians’ and officials’ focus is on strategising for the next minuscule political advantage on social media.

The book does end with some suggestions for reform, but I found this chapter a bit half hearted. It isn’t that they wouldn’t be good ideas, just that it’s hard to see any incentive or ability to implement them. At least today (6 May 2023) we showed the UK can still put on a grand ceremony, even in a downpour.

When teaching cost benefit analysis, I ask my students if they think the Sydney Opera House should not have been built. It’s both an Australian icon and an extreme example of the kind of major project disasters that Bent Flyvbjerg has made his name analysing: massively over budget, massively delayed, destroyed the reputation of its architect, and isn’t well suited to its purpose. When I did the tour, the guide claimed that, due to the narrow footrpint, for ballet there were matresses placed in the wings for the dancers to cannon into as they leapt off stage, and people to catch them so they didn’t bounce back on stage.

In general, the problem with big (and small) infrastructure schemes is that they so often seem to be over-budget and delayed, and yet we need infrasttructure. And as Flyberg’s new book, How Big Things Get Done (written with Dan Gardner), points out, the same is true in everyday life of projects like home extensions and refurbishments. The book has a few examples of successful major projects – like Frank Gehry’s Guggenheim in Bilbao, or the new Terminal 5 at Heathrow Airport. What distinguishes these from the far more numerous disasters?

The advice is easy to write down: be clear about what you want to achieve with the project; plan with as much care and detail as you can; forecast costs on the basis of what similar projects have actually cost on average; make sure you have an experienced project team that can deliver quickly when they get the green light. For big projects – although not your new kitchen – make the activity as modular as possible, for example by manufacturing components offsite. Technology and the use of digital twins and offsite manufacture should help a lot on infrastructure projects – this seems to have been key to Gehry’s consistent success.

This all sounds like common sense, but is obviously harder to achieve in practice. I thought the element missing from this book was the political economy of why it is so hard to do projects well. Peter Hall’s (1980) Great Planning Disasters is still a must read on this front. Having said that, I very much enjoyed How Big Things Get Done. Recommended, and particularly if you’re planning home improvements.

I’ve thoroughly enjoyed reading Parfit: A philosopher and his mission to save morality by David Edmonds. I’ve always felt faintly guilty at never even having tried to read anything by Derek Parfit, given the reverent tone in which he’s mentioned by many philosophy folks. Much as I liked this book by Edmonds, a wonderfully clear and lovely writer (see eg Wittgenstein’s Poker), it helped confirm my decision not to try Parfit’s own tomes.

The main reason for my persistence with happy ignorance is that Parfit’s method was evidently the thought experiment, which is an approach that seems utterly unpersuasive to me – so what if something might be the case in a wildly unrealistic scenario, like someone whose arms reach the length of the Indian subcontinent? (As for the trolley problem, please give me strength.)

I’ll make do with what I’ve taken from this biography – Parfit’s claim that moral statements  (eg it is wrong to torture innocent children) can be objective (the denial of this implying that morality is only ever relative); his belief that the main ‘schools’ of moral philosophy can be reconciled; and his view of personal identity as continuous psychological experience. I do try, but philosophy is difficult. There’s one anecdote here about an example Parfit gives that has Peter Singer dramatically changing his mind – and I just don’t understand the example (someone indifferent to pain on future Tuesdays….), which seems absurd.

Not that this spoiled my enjoyment of the book. For its hero is an extraordinary character. He went from private prep school to Eton to Balliol to All Souls – a literally cloistered life – albeit doing a lot of teaching in US universities, and obsessively visiting Venice and St Petersburg to photograph them. Obsessive is a theme – for example one ends up deeply pitying the poor OUP publishing team that had to deal with Parfit’s manuscripts. And not only did Parfit lead such an inherently sheltered life, he became ever more reclusive, spending all his time working, fueled by pills and vodka. Somehow he managed a long relationship and eventually marriage to Janet Radcliffe Richards (who must be saintly, and whose 1980 book The Sceptical Feminist had a big influence on me).

There seems no doubt Parfit was a genius. He influenced many other philosophers profoundly, and the book traces his impact, for instance, on the Effective Altruism movement and the study of existential risk, as well as contributions to thinking about the future – climate change and population growth. Tyler Cowen describes Parfit as ‘the most important philosopher of his era’. Edmonds discusses whether or not Parfit was autistic, tilting towards ‘yes’ without reaching a firm conclusion.

A fascinating and important person. I do highly recommend the biography – and good wishes to those who bravely decide to tackle Parfit’s own Reasons and Persons and On What Matters (all 3 volumes).