Annus instabilis au Royaume-Uni
Annus instabilis in the UK
Notwithstanding its 260-year-old gilding, the British coach has, since the summer of 2022, been through a lot of bumps. While on the international stage governments are trying, with varying degrees of success, to chart the long-awaited post-Brexit course, at home the economic crisis and social anger are roiling.
The UK is not doing very well. Of course, the coronation of Charles III on 6 May 2023 was an opportunity to project the image of a powerful kingdom beyond its borders once again, with the willing participation of the world's media - the event was broadcast live and in extended version even on the public radio and television channels of the French Republic. The monarchy remains a safe haven for British soft power. However, even this exercise was (marginally) disrupted by a few demonstrators hostile to royalty and the ensuing debate on the police methods used against them (1). While successive governments are trying, with varying degrees of success, to chart the long-awaited post-Brexit course, the economic crisis and social anger are roiling at home. Here's a look back at a year of instability and the structural (and unresolved) issues that have caused it.
Behind the political instability, the fragility of democracy
The three people who have occupied 10 Downing Street over the past year - Boris Johnson, Liz Truss and Rishi Sunak - each in their own way and taken together, pose fundamental questions for the British political model. These three successive leaders of the Conservative Party embody the different drifts threatening contemporary liberal democracies in different parts of the world. Boris Johnson is a populist, in the sense given to him by the political scientist Cas Mudde (2): his trademark is to pit the good people against corrupt elites. But more than that, the Johnson case seems emblematic of a form of populism that is very much in vogue at the beginning of the 21st century. On the one hand, his denunciation of the elites is made in defiance of his own position in the social and political arena: Johnson, a product of Eton and then Oxford, where he honed his rhetorical skills and political and industrial friendships, is himself part of the elite. His populism is above all a discourse, a rough-and-ready style, in which he is very similar to Donald Trump (3). On the other hand, Johnson has gradually sunk into an all-out denunciation of the institutions in which he operates, in this case those of parliamentary democracy.
The British people had given an absolute majority to the Conservatives led by Johnson in 2019 because he had promised them freedom and sovereignty, embodied by the Brexit. He was finally pushed out when freedom and sovereignty became synonymous for him with impunity from the rules of sanitary containment that his government had itself set, and from the elementary requirement of truth in the parliamentary precinct. His statement in response to the report of the parliamentary committee that forced him to resign as an MP also has undeniable Trumpian overtones: "It's all nonsense. It's a lie. To arrive at this completely crazy conclusion, the committee is obliged to say a series of things that are obviously absurd, or that the facts contradict (4)". So, with Johnson, we see the paradox of populist temptation at work. The British people wanted a Prime Minister who would go against the grain of the well-oiled machinery of European diplomacy. They wanted a bull, a troublemaker, a Trump who had done his homework. They got him. For a while, the Johnson system worked. Not giving in, not admitting mistakes, even if it meant omitting, even if it meant lying. Eventually it broke down. In the end, democratic transparency and parliamentary scrutiny prevailed, but not without serious tests.
After Johnson came Liz Truss and her budget of 23 September 2022, this time embodying not the populist temptation but the excesses of an economic policy indexed to the demands of financial capitalism. Elected following the resignation of her colleague by the members of their party, it was through the voice of Kwasi Kwarteng, her finance minister, that her programme was rolled out: removal of the tax bracket on incomes over £150,000, cancellation of the rise in corporation tax, removal of the ecotax on energy bills, among others (5). But the financial markets soon became concerned that this loss of revenue for the public purse would not be offset elsewhere. The markets refused to lend without covering their backs, and retaliated by triggering an immediate rise in interest rates and aggressive speculation against sterling. The gamble of attracting investors by lowering taxes and thus boosting growth, which would eventually trickle down, was a failure, to say the least. Faced with this pressure, Truss finally gave in. It was decided that she would be replaced within a few days, so as not to risk losing the confidence of the markets again. There would be no general election, and only an internal Conservative party nomination, because there was no point in dragging this out: it was the anticipation of financial speculation that dictated the political process. The rule of law bowed to the law of the market. With Truss, the subjection of politics to finance became apparent.
Sunak, finally, entered Downing Street on 25 October 2022, and since then has been trying in his own way to return to a form of normality. Of the five priorities he has set himself, three relate to the economy as a whole (stopping inflation, reducing debt, boosting growth), one to the health service (eliminating the backlog in care), and one to immigration (preventing illegal immigration or, more trivially, stopping the boats). These priorities clearly reflect the scale of the country's economic difficulties on the one hand, and its nationalist withdrawal on the other. In this, Sunak is following in the footsteps of his predecessors: over the last ten years, the UK has implemented an extremely repressive migration policy. The trend began in the 2010s under Theresa May, David Cameron's Home Secretary at the time, who unambiguously declared that she wanted to develop a "hostile environment" for immigrants, using a great deal of legislation and propaganda. The Immigration Act of 2014 made access to housing and health care conditional on immigration status, while in the summer of 2013 very official vans bearing the inscription "Go Home" travelled the streets of London with the aim of encouraging people to leave voluntarily. Some of these controversial schemes, such as the programme to deport asylum seekers who have arrived in the UK illegally to Rwanda, which was finally overturned by a British Court of Appeal on 29 June 2023 (6), even contravene international law. Sunak's United Kingdom is therefore sinking into this truly insular trend: not only has the country left the European Union, but it is endeavouring to erect both material and symbolic fortresses around itself, contrary to its century-old tradition as a land of welcome and asylum.
Finally, in addition to the excesses embodied by the last three Prime Ministers - the populist temptation, the indexation of politics to finance and the insular one-upmanship - the sheer number of them raises questions. Satirists are having a field day, measuring the passage of time not in months and weeks, but in the number of governments. More seriously, political scientists see in this political instability, which in fact dates back to 2016 - since the Brexit referendum led to the resignation of David Cameron followed by that of Theresa May - the sign of several dysfunctions (7). In particular, Johnson, like Truss (and we could no doubt add Sunak to the list), made impossible promises, since a strong welfare state without a matching tax system is a smoke and mirrors approach. What's more, for May, Truss and Sunak, their internal appointment by the Conservative party alienates them from the British electorate in sociological terms. What's more, although the British Constitution does not require a national ballot to be held after a resignation when MPs do not feel the need to do so, the fact remains that this procedure affects the governments' legitimacy. From this point of view, instability tends to provoke... more instability.
Behind inflation and social anger, the limits of an economic model
While Prime Ministers come and go, the last few months have been marked by a deterioration in the country's economic situation. Since 2021, the UK has been experiencing almost continuous inflation (8). Between March 2021 and January 2022, prices rose by between 1% and 5% a month compared with a year earlier. From February 2022, the rise accelerated, reaching 9.6% in October 2022. Inflation remains at these record levels thereafter, remaining at 7.9% in May 2023. In the end, the price of certain food products literally soared, particularly sugar (+50% between May 2022 and May 2023), milk (+29%) and fresh vegetables (+21%). This rise in prices is multi-factorial: the catch-up effect of post-Covid-19 consumption and difficulties in importing certain products since the start of the war in Ukraine (9); a shortage of market garden labour following the Brexit, which is reducing harvests (10); but also the effects of climate change on agricultural production, or "climflation", for example on Spanish olive oil (11), speculation by "hunger profiteers" on raw materials (12) and opportunistic increases in the profits of certain companies (13).
The Bank of England's monetary policy aimed at stemming the rise in prices consists of raising interest rates. The Bank's key rate, on which commercial banking institutions are aligned, was set at 0.1% during the first wave of Covid-19, and has been raised every month since January 2022, reaching 5% in June 2023. However, the vast majority of home loans taken out in the UK are not, as is the norm in France, fixed-rate loans for their entire term. In 2022, half of all outstanding mortgages had a fixed rate for only the first five years, before being renegotiated. A quarter had a fixed rate for two years, and 15% were at a variable rate (14). Under these conditions, the Bank of England's decision to raise its key interest rates has had direct and dramatic consequences for the quarter of Britons who have a mortgage (15). By taking this decision, the Bank of England has clearly established that the monetary priority is to bring down inflation: the aim is to discourage consumption and encourage saving; in short, to slow down the economy. In so doing, the Bank runs the risk, according to some analysts (16), of provoking a recession, even if Andrew Bailey, its director, denies this (17).
Rampant inflation and the measures designed to curb it are having a dramatic impact on the purchasing power of the British people, which explains why the UK experienced a historic wave of strikes from 2022 onwards. This social movement, which can be described as multi-occupational insofar as it affected the whole of the British working world, is in fact a set of social conflicts at company, establishment or branch level. These disputes relate to pay: the demands concern pay levels first and foremost, and are combined, depending on the case, with other sectoral demands. Postal workers at the Royal Mail, which has been privatised since 2013, have called for pay rises to compensate for inflation, while denouncing forms of outsourcing, i.e. the recruitment of self-employed delivery workers, and work intensification. In April 2023, the sector's main union, the Communication Workers' Union, reached an end-of-conflict agreement after almost a year of mobilisation and dozens of days of strike action, including the abandonment of freelance recruitment and 10% pay rises. These multiple conflicts, of which the postal service is just one example, signal a deep malaise among British workers. The incomes of the working and middle classes have deteriorated considerably (18). This decline has had very tangible consequences in terms of living conditions, which can be seen in the emergency measures put in place by associations, such as food distribution and the provision of heated rooms (19). This rapid rise in poverty and inequality, and the social anger they engender, highlight the limitations of the British economic model, in particular the poor regulation of the labour market, where jobs are easy to find but also poorly paid and insecure.
So, since the summer of 2022, the United Kingdom has, in a way, been faced with its own contradictions, politically, economically and diplomatically. Internationally, Sunak, like his predecessors, is walking a fine line between dreams of global leadership and the reality of today's world: the UK sees itself as a pioneer of the ecological transition, but Sunak is not setting foot at the summit for a new financial pact; it is trying to develop its trade agreements in the Pacific but cannot compete with China's power, and would like to control its borders without really cooperating with its allies. These contradictions are not new, but they have recently become much more pronounced. The British model has been destabilised, and will continue to struggle.