A shoddy performance. Credit: Ian Forsyth/Getty

What do the following words have in common: sleazy, tawdry and shoddy?
For a start, all three indicate low standards: sleaze in the realm of morality; tawdriness in the realm of good taste; and shoddiness in the realm of workmanship.
However, delving into the etymology reveals a less obvious connection: originally they all referred to low quality fabrics. Thus sleazy may have been a mangling of Silesia, a region from which a type of thin cloth was imported. Tawdry was a corruption of “Saint Audrey’s lace” — a cheap version of a luxury product. As for shoddy, that was the name for a heavy woollen fabric made out of old rags.
The relevance to tomorrow’s by-election is that shoddy manufacturing began in Batley. For its time — the early 19th century — the processing technology was cutting edge. A machine that could turn a waste product into a useful and affordable material was a wonder of the age.
Today we’d recognise the shoddy industry as an example of advanced recycling. We’d also recognise its geographic concentration — in towns and villages to the south of Leeds — as an example of economic “clustering”. Indeed, the Heavy Woollen District was the Silicon Valley of its day — which makes Batley the Palo Alto of West Yorkshire.
Sadly, there’s no doubt as to which sense of “shoddy” best applies to the campaign for tomorrow’s by-election. Tawdry is an equally fitting description. As for sleaze, there are some searching questions to be asked. For instance, how did a bogus leaflet purporting to be from the TUC in support of Labour come to be produced?
Then again, one shouldn’t have too much sympathy for the Labour Party, not after a shameful leaflet that it definitely was responsible for. This one combined allegations of “whitewashing Islamophobia” and not caring about human rights in Kashmir with a photograph of Boris Johnson meeting the Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi.
Playing politics with the nuclear-armed tensions of the subcontinent is blatantly irresponsible — and so is trying to turn it into a domestic issue.
There is nothing wrong with British voters taking a special interest in foreign policy issues in parts of the world where they have family connections. For instance, I’m half-French and thus take a special interest in the politics of France. It’s equally understandable that someone of, say, Pakistani heritage would take a special interest in South Asian politics.
However, to link an entire community to an overseas conflict — and politicise the association — is not acceptable. It’s especially dangerous when so many voters in Britain naturally take the other side of the conflict, for equally valid reasons.
The Labour leaflet has been widely condemned: Labour Friends of India called for it to be withdrawn; George Galloway, spotting an opportunity to stick his oar in, described the controversy as the “fruits of identity politics.” Meanwhile, Owen Jones is warning that, in the event of defeat, “supporters of the [Labour] leadership are preparing a narrative that Muslim voters are disillusioned because they’re homophobic, antisemitic bigots.”
I’ve no idea whether Jones is right about that, but identity politics is a dangerous game. Even if you play it with best of intentions you may be surprised where the ball ends up. To use a phrase popular five years ago, Labour risk “unleashing demons” in their desperate attempt to shore up support.
In all the discussion on what the different candidates think about Kashmir or Palestine, almost no thought is given to the dangerous consequences of focusing this by-election on just one part of the constituency’s population. It’s not that the Asian voters of Batley and Spen don’t matter; but how are the other 80% supposed to feel about being sidelined?
Indeed, how is any local voter — whether white, Asian or other — supposed to feel if their main concern is for where they live and its economic future? What has a party wrapped up in identity politics and foreign policy issues got to say to them? As with so many other seats in Labour’s disintegrating Red Wall, there is no real answer.
At the outset of the by-election campaign, the conventional wisdom was that the constituency is not like Hartlepool, which Labour lost to the Tories in May. But in many ways, Batley and Spen is very much like Hartlepool — and scores of similar constituencies across the North of England.
For all their individual distinctiveness, they share an urban-but-not-metropolitan geography that isn’t found to the same extent in most other parts of the country. They exist in such numbers in the North because of the industrial revolution, which as well as creating new cities also transformed villages into a dense patchwork of towns.
If the industrial revolution haunts the North, it’s not because of nostalgia, but because the North is still made in its image. This may have become a cliché of political reporting, but that doesn’t make it any less true.
A cliché that isn’t true, however, is that, before Brexit, these sort of seats were solidly Labour. In fact, the unbroken Red Wall that stretched from Lancashire to Hull was first breached in the 1980s. There were some seats that the Tories won back then (and later lost to Tony Blair) that not even Boris Johnson has managed to regain.
One of them is Batley and Spen, a Conservative marginal from 1983 to 1997. Throughout this period, its MP was Elizabeth Peacock — who bore a superficial resemblance to another Tory blonde of the era, but was very much her own woman. In fact, she was well ahead of her time, being an independent-minded northerner with socially conservative but economically interventionist views. She was, for instance, a determined defender of the mining industry, not something that could be said of the prime minister at the time.
Today, the equivalent politics may differ in the details, but there’s no doubting its popular appeal, or that the Tory party of the 2020s is closer to Peacock than to Thatcher.
If you take a chart and measure people’s economic views along one axis, and their views on Authority versus Liberty on the other, then you produce four quadrants. According to research findings tweeted out by Tim Bale, a remarkable 60% of 2019 voters put themselves in the Left-Authoritarian quadrant. By way of contrast, only 2% took the opposite Right-Libertarian position.
This doesn’t make the British public quite as Stalinist as it sounds, nor does it make them raving populists — it just means that they support the National Health Service and national borders — and expect their politicians to defend both.
There is, however, a divergence of opinion between our MPs and the people who vote for them. Labour MPs are more socially liberal than Labour voters, while most Conservative MPs are closer to George Osborne in outlook than Elizabeth Peacock on economics. The difference is that Tories find it much easier compromising with their voters on economic issues than Labour do on social ones; for Labour, progressive beliefs about the crusade against racism, sexism, homophobia (and now transphobia) are sacred causes. These issues cannot be compromised over, and because they are sacred activists inevitably push them to further extremes. As for the Tories, all they have to do is appeal to the median voter against an absent, divided opposition, while appearing less obsessed with strange, niche obsessions. In other words, they don’t have to try very hard.
They don’t even have to offer concrete details of how they’d propel northern towns back into the economic fast lane. The pits aren’t going to re-open and nor are the shoddy factories, and it’s a long time since anyone has expected that they would.
A competent opposition would therefore press the government on the specifics of renewal. A clever opposition would drive a wedge between our free-spending Prime Minister and his tight-fisted Chancellor. Once you divide the amount money that the Conservatives are willing to invest by the number of communities they’re promising to level-up, just how much difference can it make?
But perhaps that’s Labour’s cunning plan, to lose so many constituencies to the Tories that levelling-up fails by a process of dilution.
More likely though is that the opposition is neither competent nor clever nor cunning. Instead it’s hamstrung, a victim of its own longstanding, lazy use of identity politics. If Labour lose yet again tomorrow, they only have themselves to blame.
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SubscribeNostalgia is a wonderful thing.
Welcome reflections. However strong the current, we still choose, in some essential measure, whether to resist or succumb to the electrical pull. Many of us have such digitized habits that some kind of major disruption is needed to even wake us up to this choice. Me included, on most days.
I’m interested to see how Mr. Kingsnorth’s newfound Christian faith interacts or collides with his defense of the natural world. I doubt he will adopt anything a like a primarily otherworldly or abstract focus. I hope not.
Lovely essay. Although, I wonder what relationship this worldly and noisy electricity bears towards the electricity coursing through our own nerves and brain. Even that animates that part of us which contemplates.
What relationship does the metal that cures people of tumours, have with the metal that tears people apart in warfare ?
“You can aim towards God, I think now, or you can keep the doors closed. You can let the electrical current pull you down into the world…Once the rooms begin to be cleared out, though, the silence comes.”
You can aim towards God, and I’ve tried it, but I’ve found it’s only possible in a kind of vague, deistic sense. God doesn’t seem to intervene in the world in any predictable way. Prayer doesn’t seem to produce any obvious effects in the material world. You pray and you get no response – just silence. Sometimes a nice coincidence makes you warm and fuzzy because you associate it with your feelings about God but it’s transitory. There’s no real change to the external, physical, world to speak of. You’re chasing a phantasm, contextualizing quotidian events to mean something they can’t seem to mean.
Centuries of textual criticism has made it really impossible for a serious person to take the Bible literally. And, even if you take the Bible literally, there are verses like Matthew 16:28, among others, which stress the imminent return of the Son of Man which, two thousand years later, still hasn’t happened. We’d know if it happened, too; Paul stresses that this was definitely going to be a very public event. So, it seems to me the inescapable conclusion is that Jesus was not divine. He was a man who made predictions that didn’t come true and then his followers embellished stories about him that imbued his life with a purpose he never intended nor could have ever imagined.
Now, it’s possible to rationalize all of this – and rationalization is what modern Christian apologetics is – to make it so Jesus was never wrong about anything, explain away contradictions and embarrassing passages to preserve faith. If you’re a serious person who wants to know what the truth likely is, however, this isn’t going to cut it. So, let’s say you’re a person like me. You think the most likely explanation for why things exist is a transcendent creative consciousness – God, if you’d like. But Jesus pretty clearly wasn’t this consciousness or the son of this consciousness, whatever that would mean. Even the idea that this consciousness is a personality that a human being can have a relationship with is kind of silly. I do admit I find it hard to know how to approach this God I think exists without the framework offered by Christianity. I can’t believe it and I feel that other religious traditions are foreign to me and forever beyond my reach in a practical sense. However, the kind of mysticism that Kingsnorth offers doesn’t do the trick either. The silence coming when the electricity goes out doesn’t seem like evidence that we’ve been pulled away from divine participation in the world and the silence is the return of that participation. The silence implies something else I doubt Kingsnorth would like to admit.
That’s a great comment.
I don’t think there is a creator, a “transcendent creative consciousness”, but i can admire the way you’re thinking about being alive and conscious.
Thanks. Where the universe came from, where life came from, what consciousness is, we don’t know. We may never know. I think it’s alright to guess considering we’ll likely never know the answers to these questions in our lifetimes. What I think we can’t do is discard rationality because we know it’s not going to take us across the finish line. You have to stick to it as far as it can take you. Kingsnorth likes to romanticize pre-scientific life but I think he’s not seriously considering what life was like when it was ruled by the whims of superstition. What it was like when disease and earthquake and storm were seen as punishments for sin and there were moral panics about things like witchcraft. We’ve certainly lost something through scientific materialism but I don’t think he’s right when he describes things like electricity as us wielding powers we’re unprepared to wield. Who, or what, would have prepared us for it? Kingsnorth’s ending sounds more like nihilism than religious exaltation. If the only thing we have when the world we’ve built shuts down is silence, I’m not sure that’s better.
I agree with much of that.
What comes across to me in his writing is a sense of loss. It results in some lovely-sounding prose but that seems to reflect his effort to regain something rather than being illuminating.
I’m not sure he’ll find what he’s looking for (a bit like Bono!) but as i’ve suggested, the search starts and ends within us.
I agree with you. I’m trying to imagine what it’s like to be Kingsnorth. Can you imagine being the type of person that, whenever a transformer blows, immediately thinks about the spirits that are no longer propitiated by humans because the refrigerator was invented and food poisoning is no longer a constant threat? Everybody experiences anemoia, a feeling of longing for a time we never lived in, when we see old houses or churches. We imagine the people that inhabited these buildings lived in simpler, better times than ours where peace was possible. But the people living in those times were beset by frightening changes too. The mature thing to do is to accept that every human being longs for a golden age that never existed. And you’re right to say that the search begins and ends within us. If any human being has ever experienced peace, it wasn’t because the world around him was any less threatening and incomprehensible, or life any less ephemeral, than we find it now.
The Future is religious.
Science-worship and Modernity are the Wave of the Past.
In which case, the search is a road to nowhere.
For many people, the search ends up within God.
“We don’t know.” Actually, we do – but the enemies of Christianity don’t want to know.
The only certain thing is that the Modernity you admire is on its last legs.
And if Christ doesn’t conquer, Mohammed will.
I’m not going to dignify your first sentence with a response.
As for your second one, reports of the death of science-based modernity have been greatly exaggerated. The churches are still empty. We are products of “Enlightenment” ideas and, no matter how we may dislike the outcome of those ideas brought to their logical conclusion in the form of scientific materialism, we still live in a world where information is too easily available to allow for genuine faith in Christianity to return at scale. The moment the Vulgate Bible was printed by Gutenberg in 1455, it was the beginning of the end. People could read what it said for themselves and the Bible cannot stand up to scrutiny as a reliable historical document, never mind the inerrant word of the creator of the universe.
For your third point, your concern that Islam is going to conquer if Christianity doesn’t return to its former eminence in the West is a reasonable one. Unfortunately, faith doesn’t work that way. Nobody is going to be willing to die for a Christianity they hope will act as a political counterpoint to Islam but they have doubts about. I see no evidence that genuine belief in Christianity is meaningfully increasing in Western countries and it’s definitely not at the point where Islam is today where young men are willing to martyr themselves for it. As frightening as Islam is, I think you’re overrating the risk it poses because you think of things in religious terms. If Christianity is done, then some other aggressive world religion will take it’s place. Well, something else has taken Christianity’s place in the West which isn’t Islam never will be. That thing is more powerful than Islam and it’s more likely to destroy us.
Reading the Bible made people fanatical Protestants. It didn’t make them opponents of the Bible – something that rarely happened before about 1680; that is (not coincidentally) when Europe became master of the world and growingly affluent.
Now Western power and wealth are slipping away quite rapidly. Scientific modernity will disappear from the West soon after. China is too tyrannical, and too politically insecure, to be a guardian for it.
Christianity is a growing religion even in the West. London is becoming a more religious city. It’s secular Westerners, not Christianity, who are dying out. The secular West will of course die with them. Contraception has destroyed the secular West.
No new religion will arise. But in many parts of the world, Christians are being persecuted and killed by Islamists. Those martyrs don’t share your lamentably blinkered and outdated view of the Bible.
I can’t tell the future, my friend, but something tells me Christianity isn’t making the kind of comeback you think it is. My view of the Bible isn’t “blinkered and outdated” as you say. There are people today, like Jordan Peterson, making a lot of money off of talking about the Bible in vague ways that avoid the thorny issue of its historicity. And that’s the problem for me. I don’t care about the narrative underpinnings of Western culture or a force capable of protecting us from Islam. I want to know if what the Bible claims literally happened. That’s obviously the way the writers of the books of the Bible wanted us to read them. They openly say that they want to tell us what literally happened so that we may believe. To me, that forecloses a symbolic reading of the Gospels.
Biblical scholars have credibly shown that Jesus’s original message was that the Son of Man, a cosmic judge foretold in Daniel, would return immanently in Jesus’s time to bring about a new heavenly kingdom on Earth. Jesus’s ministry was to make way for the Son of Man by warning Jews to repent before it was too late. Jesus also seems to have thought he was going to be the king of this new realm, which makes it unlikely he knew he was going to be executed upon his arrival in Jerusalem. Significantly, Jesus never says he’s the Son of man – later writers such as whoever wrote the Gospel of John begin saying that nearly a century after Jesus’s death. Jesus also never says that his death is a necessary sacrifice to purchase a reprieve for mankind’s sin with God. Remember, Jesus almost certainly didn’t go to Jerusalem with the goal of being crucified so he couldn’t have known that was going to be the outcome. It’s very difficult to synthesize what seem to be Jesus’s actual statements (he would be the king in the kingdom the Son of Man would usher in) with later Christian belief (Jesus’s real mission was that he had to be crucified to buy a reprieve for mankind’s sins). Finally, Jesus says several times, and Paul clearly believed, that the kingdom of the Son of Man would come before the deaths of the people he was addressing in Matthew. That hasn’t happened. Now, you can rationalize these points away all you’d like, but if Biblical scholars, who’ve dedicated their lives to the study of these books and many of whom can read the manuscripts in the original Aramaic and Greek, are wrong about this, then who’s right? You?
Christianity doesn’t need to make a comeback, it never went away. The only people who think it’s dead are those who only see the world in a western view. That’s a rather out of date idea.
We trade arguments all day, but there are now more Christians in a couple of countries in Africa thna the whole of Europe & THE US put together
Interestingly although its not a race, Christ is well in the lead
If you don’t want to believe in God, as revealed in Jesus Christ, He won’t force you to. So you get silence.
If you want an answer, believe – take the gamble of having Faith.
The absence of a reply from God is an argument against yourself, not against Christianity.
Jesus said He had no idea when His second coming would be.
As for textual critics supposedly having destroyed the credibility of the Bible – only people who hate the Bible anyway, or extremely credulous people, believe that.
“So do our solar panels, which switch off when the grid does”. I think a lot of people who have shelled out for solar panels snd batteries don’t realise that they don’t have an off-grid system. The batteries save money, they sre not backup. A true off-grid system is rather more expensive.
There’s really no good reason for this, just crap design! A few quid for an inverter would provide the mains power from the batteries to run whatever electronics is needed… and presumably these solar panel batteries have an inverter already!
Beautiful writing. Silence is one of the most breathtaking experiences—it’s like the moment before we are born.
But alas, here we are, all plugged into the electrical grid!
Thank you for stepping out of your silent retreat to whisper into our eyes.
“a world that, once the switches came, could never come back again”
Don’t be too sure. That is where Labour and Ed Millipede are determine to take us.
Wonderful article, beautifully written, one of the benefits of space and silence.
I just finished reading the new print of Robert Byron’s (not that one) The Station. Mount Athos was a little different then (1920’s), but only a little.
Really nice article. Thank you.
There is another kind of silence that it would take generations of electricity deprivation to recover. Before the age of electricity-powered media, most people knew relatively little of the world beyond their direct experience but, what they did know, they knew more intimately. With the advent of radio and television this started to change. People began to pick up a mass-mediated bag of abstracted ‘knowledge’ and ‘opinions’ about the wider world…..great for those souls brimful of curiosity about things and toxic for those (the majority I think) who are too-easily morally and intellectually biddable. Now in the digital age the gigantic supply information/disinformation coming at each of us greatly exceeds both the demand for it and one’s ability to properly process it. Another kind of noise… (one that I discussed in this piece: https://grahamcunningham.substack.com/p/the-madness-of-intelligentsias)
I often fantasise about a world deprived of electricity. In my fantasy, there’s me in my own little House on the Prairie….making do, using my ingenuity to repair things, singing songs and telling tales to the children in the evening. Living a good, hard, stoical life. The fantasy unravels when some feral gang notices how well me and my family are coping….so come by to loot our little home nest and to murder us.
When I was little I speculated that there were little men living in the valve at the back of the television/radio
Perhaps the author is talking about deep silence.
Oh, i’m sure he is – although i think the term “profound” is more expressive.
The thing is… one can’t “go searching” for it (as per my earlier point). If you’re ready for it, it may find you.
I always appreciate your unconventional takes, but Paul Kingsnorth is offering us a profundity of greater depth than your anti-institutional bent. There exists a truth just over the horizon of the natural world.
The gravitational field is as natural as the electromagnetic field. Perhaps we should dispense with the former and float off up to heaven.
In his diaries, the clergyman Francis Kilvert described a world without electricity.
The silences he describes in the countryside cannot be replicated now, even if the grid fails.
Those silences carried voices. He hears a child being scolded by its mother from across the valley. One New Year’s morning he hears the bells of churches from a town 20 miles away.
Then there is the rawness of the world. One Winter’s morning he bathes in a tin bath after breaking the ice that covered the water.
This was a lovely article, by a lovely writer. My most sincere thanks to you!
(By the way, every Sabbath and Holiday, religious Jews turn off every electronic device [lights are on timers] and silence comes. No phones, no computers, no cars, no noise. No doing, no making, no moving, no changing. Just living, just being, just talking, just thinking.)
Electricity is a natural force. It can be generated and distributed, but it’s also part of our own being, within us all and as essential to life as blood, or water.
I don’t agree with the dichotomies this author sets up; for instance, between electricity and prayer. I revel in silence, but don’t need to pray to induce it and it’s possible to be silent within whilst the world rampages around us.
I can see what he’s trying to get at, but somehow it seems as if he’s forcing it. He feels the need to go on pilgrimage (to Greece) to find something – “change” – when all the time, as before, it lies within us; within the stillness of our own spirit, if we allow it to just be.
5 feet away from his house the wifi won’t work.
The answer, as before, lies within.
(Closer to his router.)
Actual spit-take. Well played, sir.
Excellent comment. I was going to write something similar but you expressed these ideas better than I could.
I should add I greatly enjoy Paul Kingsnorth’s writing. He reminds us to be aware, and think about, the types of issues he describes in this essay. And he writes beautifully.
As for me, I’m privileged. I live in a place where I can walk out my front door and, over the course of ten miles or so, stroll beneath huge conifers then move onto the beach. I often like to walk early, before the busy, human part of life has begun, and stand by the ocean, eyes closed, and listen to the waves. It is a self-conscious retreat from civilization.Then I return home, have a hot shower, a hot breakfast, and switch on the internet.
Sometimes I struggle to square that circle, to reconcile the semi-mystical with the technological, but I recognize I’m engaging in different aspects of the same reality and it’s not readily apparent which aspect is the more profound.
Thanks JB.
I find the same peace on the Pennine moors which surround me, with its ancient pathways and signs of human habitation from long ago, now slowly returning to wilderness.
I have to deal with the taiga. As long as you don’t get eaten by beers or wolves a sense of isolation may be found.
A beer is a dangerous thing; many beers, more so.
More dangerous than bears. They are attracted to them like honey.
Funny!
Sounds beautiful.
Ten miles!
Well said. We take ourselves with us wherever we go.