Battle of Ideas Festival Audio Archive

Recorded at the Battle of Ideas festival 2013 on Saturday 19 October at Barbican, London.
ORIGINAL INTRODUCTION
‘An Englishman’s home is his castle’ is a phrase that sounds so quaint and dated today it’s hard to remember the ideal it expressed. This was a clear sense of a private sphere into which the state and public authorities had no right to enter and the individual enjoyed autonomy. Today, that private space is increasingly subject to public scrutiny. It is now official policy that family life and child-rearing be subject to greater external intervention and scrutiny. Concerns about domestic abuse seems to justify any amount of probing into the intimacy of marital disputes, with a broader assumption that away from public view and left to their own devices, people will use the privilege of privacy to perpetrate unspeakable horrors. Those who have secrets they would rather not share are often treated with suspicion, especially if they are in positions of authority. We demand to see people’s tax bills and wage slips, to read organisation’s memos, internal company emails and financial dealings. The institutionalisation of transparency, the ubiquity of leaking, the hero-worship of whistle blowers and suspicion of any institution that does not bare all, suggests an end to any validation of privacy.
Nevertheless, in recasting privacy as the refuge of behind-the-scenes malevolence, some argue we denigrate one of the most important sites of human experience. The private sphere provides a space for self-exploration and reflection – for organisations as well as individuals – and intimate relationships certainly require privacy. The ideas, emotions and passions that are expressed to an intimate soul mate become something very different when disclosed to a public audience.
What constitutes the barrier between private and public has become ever more fuzzy. Are comments made to ‘friends’ on Facebook public pronouncements or private mutterings? Who owns the personal photos of our families, our baby bumps, ourselves behaving badly when we publish them online? And have these questions arisen only because of new technology, or has there been a deeper cultural shift? Was it better when the media turned a blind eye to the indiscretions, leaving the public to judge them as purely public figured? Is our preoccupation with the private lives of artists and celebrities a distraction from what really matters? Where does the public domain start and end? Is a culture of transparency and revelation creating a refreshingly open society or a tyranny with nowhere to hide?
SPEAKERSDavid Aaronovitchcolumnist, The Times; author, Voodoo Histories; chair, Index on Censorship
Professor Frank Furedisociologist and social commentator; author, What's Happened to the University?, Power of Reading: from Socrates to Twitter, On Tolerance and Authority: a sociological history
Andrew Keenentrepreneur; founder, Audiocafe.com; author, Digital Vertigo: how today's online social revolution is dividing, diminishing, and disorienting us
Ursula Martinezcult cabaret diva; writer and performer, Me, Me, Me!, Hanky Panky and My Stories, Your Emails
Christine Rosenfellow, New America Foundation; senior editor, New Atlantis
CHAIRClaire Foxdirector, Academy of Ideas; panellist, BBC Radio 4's Moral Maze; author, I Find That Offensive

Recorded at the Battle of Ideas festival 2012 on Saturday 20 October at Barbican, London.
ORIGINAL INTRODUCTION
In his State of the Union speech this year, President Obama declared that inequality is ‘the defining issue of our time’. He said everyone should get ‘a fair shot’, do ‘their fair share’ and play by ‘the same set of rules’. Such fairness, such equality, was a matter beyond politics (‘not Democratic values or Republican values, but American values’), something without which the very fabric of society was at risk. In the UK, too, Prime Minister David Cameron has railed against ‘the incredible inequality of the modern world’. Economic debates are dominated by the spectre of dangerous inequalities. From Richard Layard’s economics of happiness, with its focus on relative income and the ‘paradox of prosperity’, to the fashionable endorsement of The Spirit Level, a bestselling book by academics much cited by politicians of all parties, to the Occupy movement, it has become an orthodoxy that unequal societies do worse in education, mental health and social cohesion.
The moral force of demands to lessen economic inequality seems to derive from the historically progressive demands for political equality. Who can object to that call for equal rights, whereby groups oppressed because of their gender, race or sexuality fought for their democratic rights? But does the fairness agenda really stand in the tradition of anti-slavery, civil rights and women’s suffrage? Is demanding regulation of bankers’ pay or calling for a mansion tax of the same order as the fight against Apartheid or the decriminalisation of homosexuality? Or are we in danger of confusing what we mean by equality by conflating the economic with the political?
The origin of the modern idea that ‘All men are created equal’ lies in Thomas Jefferson’s ‘immortal declaration’ in which equality was inalienably linked to liberty as a rebuttal against authoritarian rule. And yet demands for more equality can be used against individual freedom, religious freedom, free enterprise. Equal rights for minority groups may be progressive, but what about contemporary equal opportunity policies, such as quotas, that emphasise equality of outcomes? Talent is not equally distributed: some of us are fast, some bright, some musical. Some are not. That might not be ‘fair’, but there it is: we are not all born the same. Is it fair to discriminate and handicap to level the playing field? Or does such affirmative action come at too high a price in personal freedom? Do we really want economic redistribution to the level that we all have the same? Is the importance of equality more in allowing us to be different or in allowing us to be the same? What has equality come to mean today?
SPEAKERSSue Christoforoupolicy and research manager, The Equality Trust project, One Society; policy analyst
Thomas Hylland Eriksenprofessor of social anthropology, University of Oslo; novelist; author, Ethnicity and Nationalism and Globalization: the key concepts
Joyce McMillanchair, Hansard Society Working Group in Scotland; judge, 2010 Saltire Scottish Book of the Year Award; theatre critic, Scotsman
Brendan O'Neilleditor, spiked; columnist, Big Issue; contributor, Spectator; author, A Duty to Offend: Selected Essays
Trevor Phillipsformer chair, Equality and Human Rights Commission
CHAIRClaire Foxdirector, Academy of Ideas; panellist, BBC Radio 4's Moral Maze; author, I Find That Offensive

Recorded at the Battle of Ideas festival 2011 on Saturday 29 October at Royal College of Art, London.
ORIGINAL INTRODUCTION
Men at some time are masters of their fates:The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,But in ourselves, that we are underlings.(Julius Caesar, 1.2.146), Cassius to Brutus
Education Minister Michael Gove says the government wants to help all Britain’s children shape their own destinies and become ‘masters of their own fate’. But is this a realistic aspiration, or even a meaningful one? Certainly the human struggle for self-mastery has a fine pedigree, going back to the ancients. But has the modern age brought us closer to this goal, or simply revealed the futility of trying to tame the fates? After all, one scientific discovery follows the next suggesting our behaviour is genetically driven. Some scientists claim everything from sexual preference to criminality, altruism to greed, is hardwired. Brain research and evolutionary psychology are mobilised to argue that even religious beliefs and morality are expressions of genetic and neurological dispositions. When US President Franklin Roosevelt said in 1939, ‘Men are not prisoners of Fate, but only prisoners of their own minds’, he was of course unaware of the gains of modern neuroscience. Bestselling authors like Sam Harris in The Moral Landscape: How Science Can Determine Human Values and David Brooks in The Social Animal tell us a ‘cognitive revolution’ has occurred in recent years, ‘producing amazing insights about who we are’. Behavioural economics suggests we are essentially irrational, simply acting out our unconscious urges. Social determinism is also influential: it is taken for granted in the current discussion on social mobility that where you are born, both geographically and in class terms, is likely to dictate your future. Meanwhile, we feel increasingly powerless to deal with external forces, from international terrorism to swine flu, climate change to volcanic ash clouds.
The fatalistic zeitgeist means we tend increasingly to downplay the significance of our own actions and focus instead on external forces beyond our control. Frequently this leads to a conspiratorial mindset, and fears of being manipulated by anything from subliminal advertising to unknown powers that have no name. In such circumstances, our ability to change our destiny seems futile; we have little option but to defer to fate. What explains today’s intellectual temper of fatalism? If we believe individuals cannot control their own behaviour, let alone their future, where does that leave the exercise of free will? If our capacity to influence events is so limited, can there be any meaningful sense of responsibility? How can we be held to account if ‘my genes made me do it m’lud’? Or is it cowardly to avoid understanding that man-made science is now freeing us from the metaphysical ignorance that suggested we could determine who we are? Can the capacity for moral independence be rescued or is it a futile rage against the inevitable? Where does fate end and free will begin?
SPEAKERSProfessor Frank Furedisociologist and social commentator; author, What's Happened to the University?, Power of Reading: from Socrates to Twitter, On Tolerance and Authority: a sociological history
Peter Hunter OPprincipal tutor, philosophy, Blackfriars Hall; Dominican Friar
Steve RaynerJames Martin Professor of Science and Civilization; director, Institute for Science, Innovation and Society, University of Oxford
Jeffrey Rosenprofessor of law, George Washington University; author, The Supreme Court: the personalities and rivalries that defined America
CHAIRClaire Foxdirector, Academy of Ideas; panellist, BBC Radio 4's Moral Maze; author, I Find That Offensive

Recorded at the Battle of Ideas festival 2023 on Saturday 28 October at Church House, London.
ORIGINAL INTRODUCTION
From ‘street votes’ to ‘parish deals’, county councils to metro mayors, ‘devo-max’-style national governments to reforming the House of Lords, the UK is awash with new measures designed to enhance devolution and localism as a counter to ‘gross over-centralisation’. When Keir Starmer said a Labour government would empower communities to ‘take back control’, some commentators decried it as cynical repurposing of that renowned Brexit slogan. But in reality, parties of all colours now proclaim the need to ‘turbocharge’ devolution as the means to revitalise democracy.
Critics of centralisation seem to have a point. County, city and local authorities operate at the behest of Whitehall and a national ‘one size fits all’ approach. This often leaves local leaders without the powers and investment to direct funds and strategies to meet local needs. Legislation with enormous impact, for example on migration, can be determined by unelected Lords, with seemingly little thought to the towns and cities under pressure to house new arrivals. With England now the one UK country lacking its own devolved government, new decision-making powers at local level on employment support, transport, housing, culture or childcare provision appear to make sense.
But if devolution pushes power closer to the people, to what extent are people now in control? While place-based approaches seem commonsensical, do they simply add more bureaucracy or become a trojan horse for new elites? After all, measures such as low-traffic neighbourhoods and ultra-low emissions zones are led by experts – who often ignore the results of consultations with residents and businesses. Private-public collaborations such as Local Enterprise Partnerships hand over power to business and unelected ‘public’ appointees. Meanwhile, devolved national parliaments arguably reinforce technocratic power, implementing for example, restrictions on lifestyle choices or, in the notable case of the Scottish Government’s Gender Recognition Act, measures that most Scots opposed.
Is there a means to ensure that new mechanisms of local democracy – from public consultations to local partnerships to devo-max governments – help to expand local control? With the Northern Ireland Assembly paralysed and the SNP-led Holyrood government imploding, are opponents of devolution right to argue it should be reversed? And where does the citizen figure in the new devolved world? At a time of disenchantment with citizenship, can there ever be a serious level of cultural support for democracy and commitment to engage with the demos?
SPEAKERSNiall Crowleydesigner; writer; former East End pub landlord
Dolan Cummingsauthor, Taking Conscience Seriously and The Pictish Princess.. and other stories from before there was a Scotland
Frank McKennagroup chairman & chief executive, Downtown in Business; former leader, North-West Regional Assembly; business programme host, City Talks radio
Jo Phillipsjournalist; co-author, Why Vote? and Why Join a Trade Union?; former political advisor; fellow, Radix
Dr Dan Robinsondirector of research, Pharos Foundation; author, Natural and Necessary Unions: Britain, Europe, and the Scottish Question
CHAIRAlastair Donaldco-convenor, Battle of Ideas festival; convenor, Living Freedom; author, Letter on Liberty: The Scottish Question

Recorded at the Battle of Ideas festival 2023 on Saturday 28 October at Church House, London.
ORIGINAL INTRODUCTION
Over a million incidents of anti-social behaviour were recorded last year. The problem has been making headlines, from the government’s ban on the ‘laughing gas’ canisters that litter parks to the home-invasion trend that saw the infamous Mizzy walking into random houses with his fellow TikTokers. But how big a problem is it when anti-social behaviour is mostly just young people hanging about on the streets?
According to research, 43 per cent of victims of anti-social behaviour suffer mental-health impacts, while vandalism and disorder blight many areas. As for the perpetrators, the shadow justice secretary, Steve Reed, has spoken of ‘tackling the effects of the trauma that leads them to offend’. But is this therapeutic approach to young people and to those on the receiving end of anti-social behaviour just as disempowering as the punitive approach also advocated by both main parties?
The government’s Anti-Social Behaviour Action Plan promises to treat it ‘with the urgency it deserves’ and to take a ‘zero-tolerance’ approach. The campaign group Manifesto Club, however, describes it as a ‘significant increase in police and local authority powers to direct individual behaviour, ban public activities, and issue on-the-spot penalties’.
Shoplifting seems to be on the rise – with John Lewis and other corporations announcing profit losses linked to ‘steal-to-order’ shoplifters. In big supermarkets, many items such as baby formula or cheese are kept behind the counter or are security tagged. For some, the kinds of products being targeted signifies that the increase in criminality is linked to the cost-of-living crisis. But others argue that the inability of the police to respond to shoplifting calls means that thieves know they can operate with impunity. In September, a row over shoplifting hit the headlines after an altercation between a black woman and an Asian owner at a store in Peckham, London escalated into violence. What seems to have begun as an allegation of theft has inspired protests outside multiple shops in Peckham, where critics argue black women are being routinely mistreated.
Is the political and media response excessive or are we too easily resigned to youthful misbehaviour, petty crime and incivility? Do we have a role to play in ‘policing’ our communities ourselves or are we too scared, or disinclined, to intervene?
SPEAKERSEmma Burnellfounder and political consultant, Political Human; journalist; playwright, No Cure For Love, Triggered and Venom
Neil Davenportcultural critic; head of faculty of social sciences, JFS Sixth Form Centre
Francis Fosterteacher; comedian; co-host, TRIGGERnometry
Lisa McKenzieworking-class academic; author, Getting By: estates class and culture in austerity Britain and Working Class Lockdown Diaries
Ed RennieCatholic writer; political strategist
CHAIRDave Clementswriter; school governor; public servant

Recorded at the Battle of Ideas festival 2023 on Sunday 29 October at Church House, London.
ORIGINAL INTRODUCTION
The sporting world is in the throes of a major culture war. After a series of controversial wins by trans athletes, some organisations like British Cycling and Swim England have placed restrictions on trans women competing in female categories. Multiple female athletes, particularly ex-swimmer Sharron Davies, have supported the move, claiming that anatomical and hormonal differences between biological men and women make it unfair for them to compete in the same category. 
However, this has been met with criticism on the grounds that this is exclusionary towards trans athletes. Critics argue that the science in this area is insufficient to prove that biological differences will always affect the outcome of a competition. Some point to cases like double Olympic champion Caster Semenya, who suffers from hyperandrogenism, who has been subject to intense and often cruel media scrutiny about her identity. If the difference between men and women’s sport gets boiled down to testosterone levels, the lines can become blurred. 
Many institutions have proposed the creation of open categories to include trans people. For example, the World Boxing Council is working towards creating an open category for trans athletes after some male boxers refused to fight athletes with XX chromosomes out of fear of fatally injuring them. But is an open category the solution, or merely a way to segregate trans athletes? 
Supporters of trans inclusion have been critical of such debates, arguing that questioning an individual’s identity is unacceptable. ‘Trans people don’t transition for athletics. We transition to be happy and authentic and to be ourselves’, trans swimmer Lia Thomas told Good Morning America. For some, biological differences between men and women can be transcended by prioritising an athlete’s sense of who they really are. But others point to a seeming contradiction in the world of sport, where the differences between men and women’s ability is celebrated as a defining factor. When it comes to the success of the Lionesses – or the sexism scandals in the Independent Commission for Equity in Cricket and the Welsh Rugby Union – what it means to be a woman in the sporting world was clearly understood.
Should sport overcome the challenges of biological difference – and if so, how? This isn’t just an issue at elite level – many parents oppose open categories in their children’s sports day for fear of boys winning all the prizes. Is it fair for girls to grow up believing they will always be second best, or does the inclusion of trans children in sport take precedence? Do we have to be exclusive to become inclusive? And how can we ensure that sport remains a passionate, enjoyable activity for all while still enforcing safety and fairness requirements?
SPEAKERSDr Tim Blackbooks and essays editor, spiked
Dr Sara Dahlenwriter; ethicist; researcher, King’s College London
Baroness Kate Hoeynon-aligned peer, House of Lords; former Labour MP; former sports minister; former unpaid commissioner for sport, London Mayor's office; Leave campaigner
Fiona McAnenadirector of sport, Fair Play For Women
CHAIRGeoff Kidderdirector, membership and events, Academy of Ideas; convenor, AoI Book Club

Recorded at the Battle of Ideas festival 2023 on Sunday 29 October at Church House, London.
ORIGINAL INTRODUCTION
The scandal of the British Museum inside-job theft might well suggest that documenting, preserving and displaying artefacts is no longer museums’ top priority. Certainly, the traditional function of museums – centred around scholarly research and the exhibition of significant objects from past human civilisations – is under strain. Most museums have now taken on a different role: embracing a responsibility to confront historical injustices, offering apologies for past transgressions and warning about the malevolent associations of objects with colonialism, slavery, the oppression of women or even the challenges of climate change.
Critics fear that the consequence of this reading of history backwards might be the perversion of scholarship. Cambridge University’s archaeology museum got into hot water for displaying signs explaining the ‘misleading impression’ of the whiteness and ‘absence of diversity’ in the ancient world among its ancient sculpture plaster casts, seeking to recast Greek and Roman civilisation as the cradle of modern racism. Indeed, some curators now seek to ‘queer’ their collections, or find the roots of transgender people in ancient times. So much so that Portsmouth’s Mary Rose Museum now identifies nit combs found on Henry VIII’s ship that sank in 1545 (used by sailors to scrape insect infestations from their hair) as ‘queer objects’ which show ‘how hair is central to LGBTQ identity’.
Many museums now seem to work on the principle that historical figures should be judged and, where necessary, condemned for their ‘racism’ or ‘transphobia’. For some, this is a necessary step to reveal the ‘whole picture’ of history, unearthing truths about individuals and their actions which had hitherto been whitewashed. But in the process, they risk tarnishing the reputations of long-dead philanthropists whose collections they are charged with protecting. The curatorial staff at the Wellcome Trust permanently closed their exhibition ‘Medicine Man’, which gathered together objects, paintings and instruments belonging to their benefactor Henry Wellcome. Why? Because staff argued that Wellcome represented ‘a version of medical history that is based on racist, sexist and ableist theories and language’ which would ‘perpetuate[s] the wrong view of history’. The curators asked the existential question: ‘What’s the point of museums?’
How should museums seek to portray the past? Is there a problem with framing objects and figures within a contemporary political framework, or is this necessary for a twenty-first-century public to be able to engage with history, warts and all? What fate awaits the object and the collection in this context? Will the traditional pursuit of neutrality and universalism be compromised if museums are seen to be stoking up cultural and political polarisation? And by taking sides, do museums risk alienating segments of their audience who hold differing viewpoints, leading to a decline in public trust and support?
SPEAKERSDenise Fahmydirector, Freedom in the Arts
Dr Tiffany Jenkinswriter and broadcaster; author, Strangers and Intimates (forthcoming) and Keeping Their Marbles
Dr Zareer Masanihistorian, author, journalist, broadcaster
Emma Webbwriter, broadcaster and presenter; director, Common Sense Society, UK branch; fellow, New Culture Forum
CHAIRDr Wendy Earlewriter; convenor, Arts and Society Forum; former impact development officer, Birkbeck, University of London

Recorded at the Battle of Ideas festival 2019 on Saturday 2 November at Barbican, London.
ORIGINAL INTRODUCTION
It feels good to rail against the establishment. Politicians across the world have found that positioning themselves as the brave outsider challenging the status quo is a political weapon. Whether they promise to ‘drain the swamp’, take on the ‘deep state’, challenge the ‘metropolitan elite’, or stick it to the ‘chattering classes’, there is a clear urge to identify the establishment and take it to task. But does the establishment exist. If so, what is it?
In Britain, the establishment was traditionally understood along historic class lines, as a network of people who went to the best private schools, went on to Oxbridge, and then took prominent positions in arts, politics and industry. Today, many allege, little has changed: Eton still produces a disproportionate number of politicians, and, according to the Sutton Trust, alumni of private schools and Oxbridge still dominate top jobs.
But does this account for the changes that the UK and other countries have experienced? Many argue that, whatever the stats on certain top jobs, cultural power – what is often called ‘hegemony’ – resides elsewhere. They allege that a new establishment, defined less by birth or privilege and more by adherence to certain cultural and political ideas like multiculturalism or feminism, dominates the arts and media. Rather than employing old and declining institutions like the church, this contemporary establishment exercises power through new institutions like social media.
Whatever the truth in these assertions, where do more traditional analyses like class and capitalism fit in? The world economy is vastly more interconnected than previously, with financial and economic elites seemingly as comfortable in Singapore as New York or London. Sometimes termed the ‘Davos set’, some allege these are the real establishment: globetrotters who evade both taxes and democratic control.
All of this raises the question of how to define the establishment. What gives people power: is it money, cultural influence, personal networks, adherence to certain ideas, or something else? Perhaps the idea that there is any single establishment is equally unclear: in a fragmented world, maybe there are multiple establishments depending on the context.
How useful, then, is the idea of the establishment? Is it an indispensable part of a serious analysis of power, or a cheap slur that can be used by any side of an argument? How, if at all, has the establishment changed in recent years, and is there a new cultural hegemony as is sometimes alleged? Who exercises real power today, and how?
SPEAKERSSteve Richardsbroadcaster; political commentator; presenter, BBC Radio 4’s Week in Westminster; author, The Prime Ministers: reflections on leadership from Wilson to May
Jill Ruttersenior fellow, Institute for Government; former director of strategy and sustainable development, Defra
David Starkeyhistorian; broadcaster; professor of history; author, Henry: model of a tyrant; documentary maker
Robert Tombsemeritus professor of French history, Cambridge University; author, The English and their History
Bruno WaterfieldBrussels correspondent, The Times
CHAIRClaire Foxdirector, Academy of Ideas; Brexit Party MEP; author, I STILL Find That Offensive!

Recorded at the Battle of Ideas festival 2019 on Saturday 2 November at Barbican, London.
ORIGINAL INTRODUCTION
Since the Brexit vote of 2016, the phrase ‘the will of the people’ has gained significant political currency. Brexiteers argue the referendum represents the will of the people and so needs to be implemented, whereas their opponents report opinion polls as showing that the will of the people has changed. Others still dismiss the idea of the will of the people as a fantasy, arguing that no group – especially not one as diverse as the British electorate – can have a single will.
But even if we put aside the idea of the ‘will’ of the people, questions abound about what we even mean by ‘the people’. At one level, the idea of the people is essential to democratic life: famously, the term democracy comes from the ancient Greek term demos (people), and means that the people rule, in distinction to monarchies, where one person ruled, or oligarchy, where a small group ruled. But, beyond general statements like this, can we say anything about who the people are and what they want? When, in Ancient Athens, citizens well known to each other could all meet and vote in one place, the idea of ‘the people’ was undoubtedly less difficult to comprehend than in modern states, where the term now encompasses many millions of individuals.
At any rate, many would worry that the idea of the people is tied up with dangerous forms of populism. Populists claim to oppose ‘the elites’ and so aim to speak for the people. But given the sheer diversity of thought and opinion, how can any figure claim to speak on behalf of the whole people? Commentators worry that, by doing so, populists erase the differences between people and create mob-like behaviour. Nonetheless, it would be at the very least strange if a politician explicitly announced they did not speak for the people.
But who gets to be included in the term ‘the people’ anyway? While many ancient Greek states defined ‘the demos’ quite widely, women or slaves were never considered part of it. Even today, there are fierce debates about whether prisoners or resident aliens should be allowed to vote, and so get to be counted as part of ‘the people’. Even if we can decide who gets to be included, what, if anything, binds the people together? Are there common, pre-political bonds of history, language or culture, or are political ties like voting, or economic ties like trading, enough? Some would argue that ‘the people’ do not even need to share a territory.
When the idea of the people is usually described or dismissed as a myth, is invoking the idea merely a populist fantasy? What bonds, if any, do individuals need to form something like a people? Or are people too marked by differences and unique identities for the idea of the people to have anything other than rhetorical use? Amidst the churn and change of the twenty-first century, can we give new meaning to the idea of ‘the people’? Ultimately, who is afraid of the people?
SPEAKERSAaqil Ahmedprofessor of media, University of Bolton; media consultant; non-executive director, Advertising Standards Authority and OFCOM; former head of religion, Channel 4 and BBC
Sophia Gastondirector, British Foreign Policy Group; research fellow, Institute for Global Affairs, London School of Economics; academic fellow, European Policy Centre
Mick Humecolumnist, spiked; author, Revolting!: how the establishment are undermining democracy and what they’re afraid of and Trigger Warning
Lord Stewart WoodLabour member, House of Lords; fellow, Magdalen College and the Blavatnik School of Government, University of Oxford; member, EU Select Committee
CHAIRElla Whelanco-convenor, Battle of Ideas festival; journalist and frequent commentator on TV and radio; author, What Women Want

Recorded at the Battle of Ideas festival 2019 on Sunday 3 November at Barbican, London.
ORIGINAL INTRODUCTION
After the Supreme Court ruling against prorogation, the subsequent debate in parliament was filled with invective on both sides. Looking at a world seemingly filled with slurs, angry social-media comments, inflammatory remarks about migrants, and nasty jibes about ‘stupid Brexiteers’ or ‘metropolitan remoaners’, many commentators have announced that we live in an age of ‘toxic politics’. The phrase supposedly captures the increasingly nasty, personal and hate-filled political discourse, as well as pointing to the corrosive effect of this on our political life.
Concerns about the incivility of political life are hardly new. In Homer’s Iliad, Thersites, a common soldier, questions the point of the war against Troy and is quickly denounced by Odysseus as a rabble-rouser, a braggart and a ‘thrower of words’. Thersites, personally insulting the high-born lords, stepped outside the bounds of civil discourse. Today, however, incivility seems to be not just an occasional moment where people step out of line, but the default feature of political life.
Perhaps part of the perception of toxicity comes from the increased role that social media plays. Sitting miles away from each other, people feel free to say things online they’d never say in person. In an age of supposedly short attention spans, media companies also feel pressured to play up conflict and division. Many allege that broadcasters also often present issues in a binary fashion that artificially creates angry disagreement and presents extreme political positions as if they were mainstream.
Nonetheless, this toxicity is as much a phenomenon offline as it is online. For example, 2019 saw the emergence of ‘milkshaking’ controversial figures, and the Remainer MP Anna Soubry complained of harassment by pro-Brexit activists who shouted slurs at her, including ‘traitor’ and ‘Nazi’, outside parliament. This echoed a widely condemned and now infamous Daily Mail front page naming top judges as ‘enemies of the people’. Prominent political figures, it seems, feel targeted by an increasingly angry and hostile public.
On the other hand, perhaps this supposedly toxic and divisive politics is simply the return of big political questions after the ‘end of history’ period; with the political consensus shattered by crisis after crisis, perhaps we’re so unused to profound arguments that they feel like toxic divisions. Perhaps, like high-born Odysseus, today’s political figures are just upset by ordinary people challenging their authority, dressing their insecurity up as talk of ‘toxicity’. What’s more, many point out that the increasingly personalised forms of identity politics that have emerged can make political disagreements feel like personal attacks, fuelling the perception of hatred and toxicity.
Are we witnessing a new, more toxic kind of politics? If so, what is the alternative? Should we lament a supposedly lost civility, or is the emergence of more forthright and angry disagreements in fact a good thing? What is the line between passionate disagreement and toxic bile? Who gets to decide what are acceptable and unacceptable forms of discourse? Ultimately, how do we live together when we disagree profoundly on major issues?
SPEAKERSDolan Cummingsassociate fellow, Academy of Ideas; co-founder, Manifesto Club; author, That Existential Leap: a crime story
Timandra Harknessjournalist, writer and broadcaster; presenter, Radio 4's FutureProofing and How to Disagree; comedian, Take A Risk; author, Big Data: does size matter?
Dr Deborah E Lipstadtprofessor of Holocaust Studies, Emory University, Atlanta; author, Antisemitism: Here and Now; defendant, Irving v Penguin UK and Lipstadt (2000)
Jacob Mchangamaexecutive director, Justitia, a Copenhagen based human-rights think tank; host and narrator, Clear and Present Danger: a history of free speech podcast
James Tooleyprofessor of educational entrepreneurship and policy, University of Buckingham; author, The Beautiful Tree
CHAIRAlastair Donaldco-convenor, Battle of Ideas festival; convenor, Living Freedom; co-director, Future Cities Project

Recorded at the Battle of Ideas festival 2019 on Sunday 3 November at Barbican, London.
ORIGINAL INTRODUCTION
In our digital age of kindles, audiobooks, iPads and Twitter, when skim-reading has become the norm, have we lost the ability to read critically? In his new book, Pen in Hand: reading, re-reading and other mysteries, the author Tim Parks argues that the simple acts of reading with a pen in hand and writing in the margins are crucial for engaging with and thinking critically about a text. Parks writes that ‘we have too much respect for the printed word, too little awareness of the power words hold over us’. Writing in The Closing of the American Mind, American philosopher Allan Bloom observed similar problems long before the dawn of the internet and social media, noting students ‘have not learned to read, nor do they have the expectation of delight or improvement from reading’. This lack of education, Bloom argued, ‘results in students seeking enlightenment wherever it is readily available, without being able to distinguish between the sublime and trash’.
How do we decide whether a book is good or bad, worth reading or a waste of time? Questions of judgement and criticism are crucial beyond the world of books – whether in politics or morality, in assessing the value of ideas, cultures, ethics. But when it comes to fiction, judgement is often seen as a dirty word. Is the contemporary failure to be honest about whether works of fiction are good or bad the consequence of academia’s turn towards relativism and non-judgementalism? Is this hampering our ability to read ‘good’ books? Or are other factors, such as the rise of social media and new technology, to blame?
Reading also allows us to develop perspective and empathy. But in today’s world of relativism and identity politics, where diversity is often valued above all else, can the universalist appeal of literature survive? Elif Shafak is Turkey’s most widely read female author, her books explore the complexities of identity and individual experience. She argues that ‘everyone’s inner journey is unique just like our fingerprints’. As a writer, she believes that literature reminds us of our ‘common humanity’. Does a good book tell us something about our shared humanity? Or open doors to new worlds, allowing us to enter times and places we would otherwise not have known?
How does a writer acquire insights that we can all relate to? What is a good reader? Shafak argues: ‘I believe that every writer should be a good reader and a good listener… A writer should not isolate himself or herself from society.’ But what of standing apart from social trends and fashions? And for readers amid today’s tumultuous events, is there anything wrong with retreating from the ‘real’ world?
In this session, award-winning novelists Elif Shafak and Tim Parks will discuss the state of reading and writing in the twenty-first century, exploring questions such as: Why does reading matter? What is the purpose of reading? Why do we need fiction? Do we read to challenge our vision of the world or to confirm it? Is reading a skill, an art, or simply a passive experience? And is it ok to get lost in a text, or should we stay alert and critical when reading fiction?
SPEAKERSTim Parksnovelist, essayist, travel writer and translator; author, Pen in Hand: reading, rereading and other mysteries and In Extremis
Elif Shafakaward winning novelist, 10 Minutes 38 Seconds in this Strange World; political commentator
CHAIRClaire Foxdirector, Academy of Ideas; Brexit Party MEP; author, I STILL Find That Offensive!

Recorded at the Battle of Ideas festival 2019 on Saturday 2 November at Barbican, London.
ORIGINAL INTRODUCTION
Globalisation was supposed to diminish the relevance of national borders. Yet from Trump’s ‘big beautiful wall’ along the US-Mexico border to the border between the Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland, borders have exhibited a surprising tendency to remain important.
Many interpret this as a simple backlash against the downsides of globalisation: the ‘left behinds’, who have not enjoyed the benefits of frictionless trade and travel, have supposedly turned to nationalist and protectionist measures in a futile attempt to turn back the clock to before the era of global supply chains. However, the surprising persistence of walls and borders is clearly a broader phenomenon.
Across the world, many commentators have noted a trend towards more gated communities and increasingly securitised entrances to flats and businesses. A number of ostensibly public parks and squares are owned or run by private organisations with the authority to eject people on slim pretences. Even Glastonbury, once a festival famous for hippy ideals and lax enforcement of ticketing, is now surrounded by a four-kilometre long, 10-foot-high ‘Fortress Super Fence’. The uneasy contrast between the many ‘no borders/no walls’ signs held by festivalgoers and the huge external fence was not lost on some.
There also seems to be confusion surrounding the status of cultural and political borders and boundaries. On the one hand, the rise of charges of ‘cultural appropriation’ seems to suggest a world where cultural boundaries and interchange are policed ever more strongly, and on the other hand many celebrate at the same time the ‘fluidity’ of gender and sexual boundaries. In addition, especially after the scandal surrounding the publicisation of a row between Boris Johnson and his girlfriend, some have noted a blurring of the boundary between public and private.
What, therefore, can be said about the renewed significance of walls and borders? In part, the renewed significance of national borders perhaps reflects a demand by people to ‘take back control’ and assert power in more clearly defined ways. In a similar fashion, the assertion of cultural boundaries has been be said to be about marginalised communities asserting control of their culture. Alternatively, some note a generalised feeling of insecurity, expressed both by the masses’ demands for stricter enforcement of national borders and also by the elites’ retreat into gated communities.
What, then, are the proper role of borders and walls in public life? How are we to interpret the success of politicians like Donald Trump who promise to pay attention to national borders – are they playing to anti-immigrant sentiment or respond to legitimate anxieties about the restlessness of globalised capitalism? Is it contradictory to lament the return of national borders while seeking to enforce cultural borders? Can we mark boundaries between realms like public and private, and are they worth defending? Are any borders worth defending?
SPEAKERSSabine Beppler-Spahlchair, Freiblickinstitut e.V; CEO, Sprachkunst36; author, Brexit-Demokratischer Aufbruch in Großbritannien; Germany correspondent, spiked
Professor Frank Furedisociologist and social commentator; author, How Fear Works: culture of fear in the 21st century and Populism and the European Culture Wars
Rebecca Loweresearcher, freelance writer and consultant; former director, FREER; author, Why Democracy? Taking political rights seriously
Dr Zoe Strimpelhistorian, University of Sussex; columnist, Sunday Telegraph; author, Seeking Love in Modern Britain: Gender, Dating and the Rise of the Single
CHAIRJacob Reynoldspartnerships manager, Academy of Ideas; co-convenor, Living Freedom and The Academy, boi charity

Recorded at the Battle of Ideas festival 2019 on Sunday 3 November at Barbican, London.
ORIGINAL INTRODUCTION
The idea of trust, and worries about its decline, have become a major preoccupation across all sectors of society. Politicians are worried that the public no longer trusts them, businesses are concerned their consumers distrust them, journalists fret that readers trust ‘fake news’ more than their reporting. Even civil servants, previously considered to be the pinnacle of trust and professionalism, are no longer deemed trustworthy after a series of high-profile leaks.
Growing distrust now seems to be a general phenomenon, but one particularly focused on institutions. For example, a succession of scandals – from the expenses scandal undermining trust in MPs to the Oxfam sex scandal undermining trust in charities – have made many question whether institutions can be trusted to uphold the public good. Some welcome a readiness to distrust institutions, as it is said to reflect a mature and healthy scepticism towards authority. Nonetheless, as perhaps is shown by repeated calls for ‘judge-led inquiries’ into all sorts of issues, there also seems to be a yearning for ‘trustworthy’ figures in politics and culture.
Some see the roots of this growing distrust in the erosion of traditional understandings of public service. For a long time, a normal assumption about journalists, doctors or civil servants was that, whatever their opinions, they were motivated by a sense of public duty. Today, it is more likely that people see such figures as motivated by their own self-interest or the demands of their organisation. When such cynical motivations are thought to be at play, is it surprising that we are less willing to trust?
For others, a growing distrust is a function of the politicisation of ostensibly neutral institutions. Whether it be institutions like the NHS taking a stand on cultural issues, like inviting men who identify as women to cervical screening appointments, or central bankers holding forth on political issues, it seems that many governing institutions have abandoned their claim to impartiality. If they are no longer impartial, can they therefore be trusted? Or perhaps the obsession with trust comes from anxiety within institutions about the questioning of their traditional claims to authority. If institutions are less sure of the role they play in society, they can no longer take their authority for granted and must focus on winning the ‘trust’ of a sceptical population.
Trust is of profound importance to every aspect of our lives. We need to trust that food is labelled correctly to avoid allergies, that air-traffic controllers do their jobs properly, and that banks process transactions properly. What, therefore, are the implications of a breakdown in public trust? Is it confined to certain sectors or institutions, or is distrust a more generalised feature of life today? What motivates growing distrust and what can be done to restore trust in institutions? Or should we welcome a new scepticism?
SPEAKERSDr Tim Blackbooks and essays editor, spiked
Miranda Greenjournalist; commentator; deputy editor of opinion pages, Financial Times; former Liberal Democrat advisor
Professor Sir Simon WesselyRegius chair of psychiatry, Institute of Psychiatry, Psychology and Neuroscience, King's College London; president, Royal Society of Medicine
Linda Woodheaddistinguished professor of religion and society, Lancaster University; author, That Was the Church That Was: how the Church of England lost the English people
CHAIRElla Whelanco-convenor, Battle of Ideas festival; journalist and frequent commentator on TV and radio; author, What Women Want

Recorded at the Battle of Ideas festival 2019 on Sunday 3 November at Barbican, London.
ORIGINAL INTRODUCTION
Today’s political culture seems obsessed with dark, apocalyptic visions. From young people staging ‘die-ins’ to protest about the environment to talk of an ‘insect apocalypse’, fears and threats loom large. Activists from Extinction Rebellion argue the threat of catastrophe means it is imperative to reject growth and progress in favour of a new eco-austerity. Fifty years on from the moon landings, a stark contrast emerges between the implied promise of a future of space travel and luxury and today’s vision of climate emergencies and ageing populations. Perhaps, therefore, it is unsurprising that dystopias like The Handmaid’s Tale or Nineteen Eighty-Four (published 70 years ago this year) are such a prominent part of our culture. But, perhaps as shown by the success of the hit series Chernobyl, it is not just the dangerous future that’s imagined, but our present or recent past, too.
Of course, imagining a dark future is nothing necessarily new. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, published in 1818, was a famous early dramatisation of unease about the Enlightenment, science-driven future. Nonetheless, and in stark contrast to today, such works gained colour from the contrast with the optimistic belief in progress associated with the period. Few people today would identify with the idea of unending progress. Even where an idea of progress does exist, such as among Silicon Valley technologists, it is often presented as the development of new technologies – such as autonomous cars or artificial intelligence (AI) – to save humanity from its inherently sinful ways. Indeed, even any debate about AI is subject to numerous doom-laded scenarios.
Perhaps one question to ask is what our attitudes to the future tell us about the present. Are periods of time where people dream big new ideas more confident of themselves, and do we therefore live in relatively insecure times? What is the cause of our contemporary insecurity? Whatever the roots of this insecurity, it is certainly profound. As some have noted, there is a current tendency to turn technical problems – such as reducing greenhouse-gas emissions or developing clean energy sources – into existential crises.
Naturally, rare voices occasionally attempt a defence of progress. However, such polemics are usually focused on showing how progress has happened in the past, not that we can expect it to continue. Their implicit message seems to be: ‘You’ve never had it so good, so stop complaining.’ Even left-wing defenders of a new, technologically-powered socialism seem interested in singing the praises of technology only to avoid what they see as total environmental catastrophe.
Where, therefore, have the defenders of progress gone? When the elite at Davos broadcast a catastrophic vision of the future, is it a sign that our leaders have lost confidence in themselves and our society? What can we learn about the present from our attitude to the future? Do we need to recover our faith in the future – and by extension, ourselves?
SPEAKERSDr Shahrar Alihome affairs spokesperson and former deputy leader, Green Party; author, Why Vote Green 2015
Gregory Claeysprofessor of history, Royal Holloway, University of London; author, Searching for Utopia: the history of an idea; fellow, Royal Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce
Dr Ashley Frawleysenior lecturer in sociology and social policy, Swansea University; author, Significant Emotions and Semiotics of Happiness
Brendan O’Neilleditor, spiked; host, The Brendan O'Neill Show; writer, the Sun and the Spectator; author, A Duty to Offend
CHAIRJacob Reynoldspartnerships manager, Academy of Ideas; co-convenor, Living Freedom and The Academy, boi charity

Recorded at the Battle of Ideas festival 2019 on Saturday 2 November at Barbican, London.
ORIGINAL INTRODUCTION
In May of this year, the German tabloid newspaper Bild printed a ‘cut-out kippah’ on its front page. The paper urged its readers to wear the kippah ‘in solidarity’ with their Jewish countrymen after concerns about a spike in anti-Semitic attacks and recommendations from a politician that Jews should avoid wearing the kippah lest it put them in danger. Jewish groups in Germany responded that they appreciated the gesture, but ‘more than solidarity’ was needed to deal with the threats posed to Jews. But what is solidarity?
Few would deny that the impulse to express solidarity comes from a genuine and positive place. Jews in Germany were likely heartened seeing Bild’s front page. But perhaps what the affair suggests is that solidarity today often means a kind of gesture. Some companies encourage employers to wear rainbow lanyards ‘in solidarity’ with LGBT Pride, people often change their social media profiles ‘in solidarity’ with victims of terror attacks or natural disasters, and a strike or protest in some other part of the world may well be met with a letter to the newspaper announcing ‘our solidarity with…’. This kind of performative solidarity is offered to an expanding list of identity groups who claim to suffer oppression. It seems in part to be about recognising the struggles of people unlike oneself.
But are there broader kinds of solidarity? Some have seen the gilets jaunes in France as an echo of an older solidarity among all working people: straightforward economic concerns like the price of fuel were a springboard for a broad understanding of the shared position of the ‘ignored’ masses. This kind of solidarity was historically seen in trades union movements, but as unions no longer play a decisive role in contemporary politics, is there a medium today for the expression of wider solidarity beyond one’s racial, sexual or gender identity? Some theorists have categorised populist movements as offering a kind of solidarity: groups who feel they share a specific grievance (such as being ignored) at the hands of an elite.
For many people, the nation plays this role. From football and Eurovision through to national holidays and remembrance days, a sense of national belonging is a key way that people experience broader bonds of solidarity. However, for many others, national identity is still associated with the horrors of the twentieth century and is considered dangerously close to chauvinism or racism. At the very least, national solidarity is said to be potentially incompatible with solidarity for immigrants or those who live abroad.
How are we to approach the question of solidarity? Does solidarity exist today and, if so, how is it different from the experience of solidarity historically? Is solidarity a reality or merely an aspiration? In a world that recognises an ever-growing number of different identities, is an aspiration towards something more universal a hopeless or even dangerous task? Is it possible for the state and other institutions to give shape to or kick-start collective solidarity, or are there no administrative fixes? On what basis are we to recognise political equality today?
SPEAKERSRoger Eatwellemeritus professor of comparative politics, University of Bath; co-author, National Populism: the Revolt against Liberal Democracy
Paul Emberyfirefighter, trade unionist; columnist, UnHerd
Professor Frank Furedisociologist and social commentator; author, How Fear Works: culture of fear in the 21st century and Populism and the European Culture Wars
Anne-Elisabeth Moutetcolumnist, Telegraph; co-founder & vice president, Institut Jean-Jacques Rousseau
CHAIRAlastair Donaldco-convenor, Battle of Ideas festival; convenor, Living Freedom; co-director, Future Cities Project