See here the now thankfully fully reconstructed Bensix tell the delightful story of his political metamorphosis. His trajectory was actually eerily similar to my own. I don’t talk about it a huge amount, but at one stage I was quite the Decent. Or a Decent sympathetic, at least. I slipped into it at the strangest of possible times, many years after the war had begun, and it never quite stuck. To my eternal gratitude no writings of such sentiments remain.
The nadir was when I endured a placement with a Labour MP of such little consequence that his name at this stage actually escapes me. It was originally a Polish one, but he modified it to sell better. A born Blairite, in other words. I spent most of the week wasting my time: filing pro-life postcards his local Catholic Church had had members send him, watching him give pro-EU speeches in a debate, looking through Mein Kamph for anti-semitic comments (of which there were quite a few) for a report he’d later issue that smeared anti-Zionists as anti-semites (very original).
I just googled “anti-semitism mp report” and it came up with his name, incidentally. Denis MacShane. Dr. Denis MacShane, actually. The towering parliamentary figure, as a Spectator sketcher waspishly sneered.
Anyway: as I mentioned I never really took well to Decency. It wasn’t something that quite set in me. I can remember even then flicking through a new copy of the recently published What’s Left? and, despite my budding inner Kremlinologist being deeply thrilled by the endless pouring over of far-leftist minutiae as if it actually mattered or meant anything, I realised that claiming leftwing opposition to Paul Wolfowitz was based around his name sounding like both a wolf and “a scary Jew”, rather than him being a realpoliticking warmonger, was somewhat suspect. Even then I met MacShane’s claim that the disaster of the Iraq War was the fault of the French for not going along with America and scaring Saddam into surrendering with a healthy degree of quizicalness.
It was an introduction of some benefit, I suppose. The peculiar, base pathetic nature of the lefthawks was exposed to me first hand. I expressed some surprise that MacShane was a very close friend of Christopher Hitchens. In hindsight this is hardly a shock.
But I am sparing myself in mentioning the ideology which never really gripped me. There were others, perhaps even more preposterous, which I was truly and deeply committed. I was a communist before I was a teen. Thankfully it was no Leninism, instead a genuine desire for mass uprising (my grasp on class politics was, perhaps, a tad weak) and an overturning of the capitalist system in preference for something vaguer but a good deal more pleasant.
This overlapped with, then faded into, my eco-nihilism. This I have mentioned before you, and you may remember that it was a strain of environmentalism so black and distorted that I would read headlines reporting disasters in which a dozen had been killed and not even cheer, but instead coldly note that it was a good start, but simply not enough. Humanity was a cancer, our extinction was the only way in which the ravaged Earth could survive; I was the misanthropic epitome of everything the right desires their opponents over climate change to be. This reigned for a very long time until I degenerated suddenly into the form of being I am today: the kind who will argue with his earnest green sister that leaving a laptop on standby is fine.
Perhaps the blackest episode, though, was my brush with libertarianism. In fairness I did it a lot more damage than it did me, devising some bastard hybrid I dubbed “Large Government Libertarianism”. I took losses as well, though: courtesy of Andrew Sullivan I for a time subscribed to the view that the best kind of a tax was a flat tax, because they simplified matters and refused to punish success. It was, of all people, a pair of Tories who talked me out of this, pointing out that the rich extracted far more benefit from the state and could also afford to pay a good deal more. To have been persuaded the merits of progressive taxation by a belligerent Thatcherite and an American rightwinger who once told me that free state heroin was something he could accept only if all if one hundredth of the junkies, randomly selected, were executed was a strange twist of fortune, but a merry one which I am grateful for all the same.
As humiliating as it is to admit that I was once a teenage internet libertarian, the most hackneyed being in existence, it should be stated that the experience left me with an understanding of the appeal which lies behind that ideology: like so many, it is permeated with the desire for purity, above all things.
Which of course, was what attracted me most to Bentham, as is a matter for another essay. A good deal of this, though, was his rigid adherence to the class ambivalent scale of pleasure and pain, as opposed to the heretic Mill’s later deviation into snobbish distortion, which left an aristocrat’s utilitarianism all too blatantly shaped by his prejudices. By contrast Bentham’s vision is filled with clarity, simplicity yet not over-simplification. It is far from reductionistic: the diversity of human desires and values is embraced, but it is simply emphasised that all of these are expressions of one thing or the other. Of pleasure or of pain. Much like Hinduism can be seen as a monotheistic faith with endless aspects, human behaviour is both hugely varied and understandable as everyone seeking one thing and attempting to avoid another. Both in my ethics and my politics Bentham has proven deeply influential.
As has Sullivan, indeed. Interestingly he failed to win me around to the Iraq War, despite having been perhaps the most prominent of all the world’s warbloggers, approaching the impending catastrophe much as Melanie Phillips approached the recent massacre of Gaza. I always saw this as his greatest defect, as peculiar given his obvious intelligence, and his admission that he had been incorrect to back it strikes me as a model for the remnant rump of the hawks to follow, humble and transformative. He also triggered my vehement opposition to male genital mutilation (a term he quite rightly uses) which still remains despite my having abandoned intactivism.
I can’t say that I feel a great degree of contempt for my former selves, indeed I suspect that it was this strain of emotion that drives both Cohen and either Hitchens, Phillips and a good many other besides. I would not, however, place any large bets on staying where I am now. Much as I enjoy it. I can but hope that my degeneration does not end with me utilising a Conservative Home account to vent my views on why David Cameron is being a big softie on the European Union.
Just don’t be surprised.