The notion of progress comes from an interbreeding of Left-leaning social theory, Darwinian biological ideas and Marxism. It holds that, as there is progress in biology given the perpetual evolution of successful organisms which adapt to suit the changing demands of their environment, so too is there progress in human society as it develops from one state to another, better one. This is an echo of Marxist theory, which sees the organisation of political units as proceeding in a more or less staggered fashion towards the rule of the proletariat as each system of social organisation leads inexorably to a preferable next. It is relevant that both of these approaches are intrinsically atheistic, in that they reject the concept of fixity in the nature of man. The eternal doctrines of a church rely upon the fact that human nature, and therefore right actions, are unchanging. In contrast the progressive believes that humanity can become better as time goes by and that, as such, morality is and should be constantly in a state of evolution and change. The progressive viewpoint, in other words, embraces change as both desirable and necessary for successful societies and rejects the notion of omnipotence and of the permanent right answer in so doing. I would argue that the doctrine of progress is the single most powerful idea in Western political thought at present.
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The prevalence of academics and civil service career specialists in positions of influence is extremely important for public policy. For a start, it explains the disconnection between public and political perception of problems. An academic takes two approaches to winning an argument – either they appeal to numeric evidence as a proof, or they appeal to other authorities as a validation. This feature of academic life has translated directly into political life where ministers cite either the opinions of institutions or survey data as proofs for their policy. This approach is fundamentally incapable of delivering responsive governance or of understanding the people governed because it cannot engage with the moral and emotional prisms through which normal people think. Again, it is also an intrinsically atheistic point of view as it must assume that everything which matters can be measured and that the intangible is entirely incidental.
To see why this doesn’t work, take immigration. The institutional common knowledge is that immigration is a very good thing. This can be confidently asserted by numbers – immigrant communities in the UK have, on the whole, higher employment ratios that the indigenous population, they enter the workforce at a young age thus reducing the dependency ratio, they make substantial spending and investment contributions to UK PLC, they make up a large portion of the workforce in our most export facing industry – financial services. To say all this, however, misses a large part of the point. People will die for their country, they bond with it, or at least some of them do, on a deep level that is a stranger to the rule of workplace ratios.
Those who object to immigration do so because, to paraphrase Christopher Caldwell, they ask if a country can be the same with different people in it, and if not, they wonder whether something they love is being taken from them. My point is not that one is right and the other is wrong, but rather that the language through which the government communicates with the governed is indecipherable to them thanks to academic capture and is therefore fundamentally causative of a democratic deficit.
The second problem caused by academic and career capture is that the complexity of the world and of policy making must be reduced to a model. No model can accurately predict either human or market behaviour, and many rest on fundamental assumptions which immediately render them nonsensical when given any real world application. People are rather good (or some of them are anyway) at absorbing and interpreting and weighting the myriad different pieces of information that they encounter and converting these into action. Yet, wisdom such as this is hard to measure. On the other hand, those who have spent their whole lives working or studying one particular, non-technical area (political science, many forms of economics) feel a powerful incentive to entrench their position as decision makers within that discipline. To do so, they must codify that discipline and render it in models – this way it is something that has to be studied, rather than something which can be felt; in this way, outsiders who are perhaps more gifted are excluded.