Does "business-friedly socialism" make sense?

The next leader of the Labour Party and Prime Minister, the former Manchester mayor Andy Burnham, appears to be advancing a project with more substantive content than that of his predecessor, Keir Starmer. Some commentators have characterised his programme as "business-friendly socialism."

The coherence of this expression depends on what we understand by "business-friendly" and by "socialism." If by business-friendly we mean deference to capital and collusion with business owners, and by socialism we mean an economic system in which capital is owned and controlled not by a minority but by society—whether in a decentralised form or through the state—then "business-friendly socialism" is an oxymoron.

Those around Burnham, however, argue that public ownership or control of essential services—such as utilities and housing—can provide a degree of economic and social stability that ultimately benefits private businesses operating in other sectors. Yet what is meant by government control remains vague. For example, The Productive State, a report published by a think tank close to Burnham, includes a chapter entitled "Beyond Nationalisation: An Ecosystem of Democratic Ownership."

This debate takes place in the context of the failure of the privatisation-with-regulation model designed by Margaret Thatcher and maintained by John Major and Tony Blair. In sectors where competition is difficult or impossible to introduce—unlike telecommunications—that model has largely failed to deliver. At the same time, returning to the previous model of state ownership is neither straightforward nor necessarily desirable, as the transition would be highly complex and both technology and society have changed profoundly. What is needed is a new institutional model, one that looks to the future rather than relying on rhetoric, political expediency, or collusion with selected business interests. Burnham's first leadership campaign speech, however, remained vague on these questions and instead focused on devolution and decentralisation.

On the meaning of the word socialism, Paul Krugman has argued that, at least in the United States, the term often refers to little more than support for the kinds of social democratic policies long associated with Europe. He is largely correct. However, I believe that many of today's progressive leaders are also emphasising a stronger element of collective supply-side policies. Although such policies already exist—for example, in Germany's and Sweden's systems of workplace democracy or Austria's tradition of public housing—they have generally played a secondary role within the traditional welfare-state model of social democracy.

In any case, there is nothing especially radical about these policies. While many in Europe lament the decline of social democracy, something remarkably similar to it—albeit labelled "socialism"—appears to be gaining ground in the United States. The concern expressed by The Wall Street Journal and The Economist over the rise of Gen Z socialist voters is evidence both of the significance of this development and of the fear-based narrative they promote—"Marxism is coming"—to alarm moderate voters. They would be better advised to worry about the genuinely radical and authoritarian tendencies of Trump 2.0.

From my vantage point abroad, Zohran Mamdani, Lina Khan, Bernie Sanders, and Elizabeth Warren are democratic socialists or social democrats who happen to be more politically successful than many of their European counterparts. There are probably good reasons for this, including the fact that Europe's incomplete political and fiscal integration leaves national progressive governments with insufficient fiscal space to pursue ambitious policies.

Initiatives such as the recent Global Progressive Mobilization should encourage a convergence of progressive forces, from the London Consensus to Mamdani. That convergence should work towards a new model of business based on an alliance between democratic socialists and responsible capitalists: empowering workers, democratising investment funds, developing sovereign wealth funds, and pursuing sound industrial and housing policies.

Retail Politics Ten Years After Brexit and Trump

Ten years after the Brexit referendum and Donald Trump’s first electoral victory, the negative economic, social, and political consequences of those decisions have largely been confirmed by reality. It was not the end of the world, of course, and both the architects of Brexit, and Trump himself, were eventually punished at the ballot box, with the victories of Starmer and Biden.

Yet Trump returned to power in 2024 with an even larger electoral mandate, while Starmer has proven to be a weak leader who, according to current polls, would likely lose to the most extreme and xenophobic Brexit supporters if an election were held today. This points to a vicious circle of populism. Populists can be defeated, but the damage they leave behind is often so profound that their successors would need almost superhuman abilities to govern successfully. When they fail to meet these expectations, populists regain support, sometimes in even more radical forms.

This does not mean that there is a clear majority in favor of far-right populism. Rather, there is considerable volatility in the electorate as a whole, which often obscures the stable values and preferences of different segments of society. Depending on the moment or the place, for example, we see headlines claiming that young people are becoming more far-right, Catholic, or socialist (The Economist, for example, appears alarmed about the rise of Gen Z socialism).

More likely, young voters are as diverse as any other demographic group, and perhaps even more volatile than most. Which segments become politically mobilized, and which values solidify over time, depend in part on the influences they are exposed to.

This is where what political scientist Jan-Werner Müller calls retail politics may matter. In a recent podcast, he argued that the opposition’s success in Hungary was driven by two key factors: public dissatisfaction with Orbán’s corruption and effective politics on the ground. Going from place to place, talking to people, maintaining a presence in every neighborhood, and building genuine roots in every municipality still matter. The way these activities are organized is changing—and will continue to change—as technology and culture evolve. But they still matter.

Retail politics should be part of a broader strategy—alongside many other initiatives—to break the vicious circle of populism.

Th Labour Party and the vicious circle of populism

Ten years ago, the Brexit referendum led to the United Kingdom’s departure from the European Union. The process exposed the vulnerability of secession referendums to misinformation, demagoguery, and outright falsehoods. Britain's withdrawal from the EU’s common institutions, single market, and customs union left a deep economic scar from which the country has yet to recover.

Amid economic decline and the political and institutional instability overseen by the Conservative Party, the Labour Party eventually returned to power under the leadership of Keir Starmer, winning a clear parliamentary majority. Yet, much as happened with Joe Biden in the United States, Starmer has found it difficult to set the country on a new course.

Starmer has not proved to be an especially inspiring leader, but the objective circumstances make governing exceptionally difficult. He is not the only centre-left leader on the international stage facing such challenges, although it would be wrong to conclude that the centre-left—or the left more broadly—is collapsing everywhere.

This is the vicious circle of populism. Populist movements leave countries so damaged that the governments that succeed them struggle to deliver meaningful improvements, thereby creating fresh demand for new populist alternatives. In the United Kingdom, the politician leading the challenge to Starmer is none other than Nigel Farage, one of the principal figures behind the Leave campaign in the Brexit referendum.

Nor is it only Farage. Another major protagonist of the nationalist-populist wave of the 2010s, the Scottish nationalist movement, has regained momentum just when it appeared to be in decline as a result of poor governance and corruption scandals.

The solution to Labour’s difficulties will not be the “radical centre” advocated by Tony Blair, the mentor of Peter Mandelson. Blair now sits on the board of a media conglomerate close to Donald Trump, as Jonathan Freedland has noted, and serves alongside the current U.S. president on the so-called Board of Peace, an initiative that attempts to provide a thin veneer of legitimacy to the ethnic cleansing of Gaza.

More promising ideas could emerge from advancing a bold strategy for rejoining Europe, developed in alliance with centre-left and left-wing forces across the continent. Such a coalition could range from the Nordic social democrats to Pedro Sánchez in Spain, as well as technocratic reformers in Italy such as Mario Draghi and Enrico Letta.

Ideologically, Labour should engage with the economists associated with the London Consensus, while adding a crucial political dimension: leaders must possess the ambition and determination exemplified by figures such as Zohran Mamdani, and they must focus on building coalitions capable of surviving beyond a single electoral cycle.

The supposedly great institutions of the British political system did not prevent the United Kingdom from making the historic mistake of Brexit, nor have they halted the country’s relative decline. In light of the experiences of both the United States and the United Kingdom—the rise of Trump and Brexit, and their consequences—the arguments of the book Why Nations Fail deserve substantial reconsideration.

From Europe Day to a Federal Europe’s Century

Yesterday we celebrated Europe Day, commemorating the Schuman Declaration of May 9, 1950. Although what we now call the European Union is subject to countless criticisms, it is undeniably a success story. Correlation is not causation, but it is difficult not to see a causal connection between the existence of European institutions and the peace and freedom enjoyed by those fortunate enough to belong to the club. Many more countries want to join, and the country that chose to leave serves as a reminder of the folly of that decision.

But today is not a time merely to celebrate past successes; it is a time to prepare for the future. The European Union is the best remedy against nationalism ever devised, yet nationalism remains alive and threatening. Nationalism is one of the elements that fascism and nationalist populism (two distinct phenomena) share in common. The belief that there is something inherently special about being German, Spanish, Catalan, Basque, or Welsh — and that this justifies placing identity above all else — continues to poison political life both locally and internationally.

Today, nationalist populism creates a vicious circle that is difficult to break. In my view, only the European Union and the institutions within and around it are capable of stopping it. It fuels this vicious circle by promoting disastrous policies — such as Brexit or the sabotage of vaccine research — which in turn generate social discontent. That discontent is then exploited by nationalist populist demagogues and opportunists, such as Farage, the leaders of Vox, and similar groups across Europe, to gain further political support. National, regional, and local democratic parties struggle to offer compelling alternatives capable of stopping the populist snowball. Only integrated policies possess the scale and strength necessary to defeat it.

The poison spread by Farage, Le Pen, and Meloni is no less dangerous simply because they present a more polished version of Trumpism. They threaten democracy and everything Europe has achieved over the last six decades. The failure of nation-states, acting alone, to guarantee peace and democracy should be acknowledged, and the gradual blurring of borders through federalism should become a common objective for all those committed to freedom.

A federal Europe can today be advanced by an avant-garde of countries willing to accelerate military, financial, and political integration, just as was done with the euro and the Schengen Area. Europe faces many challenges, and all of them will be easier to address through the combination of unity, diversity, and democracy that federalism makes possible.

The rhetoric of reaction against the Global Progressive Mobilization (GPM)

Last week in Barcelona, progressives gathered at the GPM. Under the leadership of European social democracy—and in particular of Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez—leaders and representatives from parties, think tanks, and labor unions across all continents reaffirmed their commitment to democracy, peace, and a multilateral order.

Despite having lost ground in recent years (while still remaining one of the pillars sustaining the European Union), social democrats uniquely retain the ability to convene such a broad and diverse gathering. Not everyone who defends democracy is on the left, and some on the left have not always defended democracy. Yet all those present in Barcelona did so, and those there in power have attained office through democratic means and upheld democratic institutions. At a time when democracy is under attack, the democratic left mobilized to defend it: European social democrats, the U.S. Democratic Party (including its progressive wing), and democratic forces from Latin America—including leaders not rooted in social democracy, such as Chilean former president Gabriel Boric.

Some actors would have liked to participate, and most criticism has focused on omissions—of people, forces, or topics. However, there was a clear urgency to mobilize the left around a coherent set of ideas. Should engagement also extend to the moderate center-right? In practice, it already does—in Brussels, and in countries such as Hungary and Poland. Presidents representing around 60% of Latin America’s population—including those of Mexico, Brazil, Uruguay, and Colombia, as well as Chile’s former president—were present in Barcelona. Seen in this light, and with South Africa represented by its president, the left appears less weak than is often assumed. Particularly significant is the growing alliance with the progressive wing of the U.S. Democratic Party, whose role is increasingly recognized—for example, by Barack Obama, who recently appeared alongside New York City Mayor Zoran Mamdani.

Criticism of the Barcelona meeting has come, for instance, from Karl Rove in The Wall Street Journal. His reaction, along with that of parts of the Spanish right, echoes Giorgia Meloni’s response last year to the pro-European demonstration in Rome, where she dismissed the Ventotene Manifesto—a document advocating a democratic and federal Europe even before the end of World War II. In The Rhetoric of Reaction, Albert O. Hirschman argues that conservative critiques of progressive reforms tend to follow three recurring patterns: the perversity thesis (reforms will backfire), the futility thesis (reforms will fail to produce meaningful change), and the jeopardy thesis (reforms will endanger past achievements). These arguments reappear across history—from reactions to the French Revolution to debates on modern welfare states—suggesting that political discourse is often shaped less by new evidence than by enduring rhetorical strategies. The authors of the Ventotene Manifesto ultimately proved more prescient than their critics, both in the 1940s and today. Notably, Hirschman himself had a family connection to one of its authors.

Some suggestions for improving the GPM are valid—see, for example, proposals by Jeremy Cliffe. These include making the forum a regular and permanent fixture (a “left-wing Davos”), strengthening ties with academia, and developing a more compelling economic narrative. The self-criticism expressed by Brazil’s president, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, is also warranted—though without discarding the achievements of the past.

At the same time, it is entirely justified for the democratic left to mobilize globally in response to the international coordination of the far right. Today’s democratic backlash is driven in part by oligarchic capture, with racism often deployed as both instrument and justification. Electoral integrity itself is under strain in the United States. Political scientist Larry Bartels has shown that, in a January 2020 survey, a majority of Republicans agreed that “the traditional American way of life is disappearing so fast that we may have to use force to save it,” while more than 40% believed that “a time will come when patriotic Americans have to take the law into their own hands.” 

Democracy should not be the monopoly of the left, and the left has not always upheld it consistently. However, the most significant threat today comes from a right increasingly aligned with oligarchic interests. Among Republican voters, the strongest predictor of anti-democratic attitudes is ethnic antagonism—particularly concerns about the political influence and access to public resources of immigrants, African Americans, and Latinos. This highlights the central role of ethnic conflict in contemporary U.S. politics, with parallels emerging in parts of the European right.

Those with economic and political power in conservative circles in both the United States and Europe bear a particular responsibility to halt the democratic backsliding. Meanwhile, the left—whether in the streets of Minneapolis or in political gatherings such as Barcelona—is already playing its part.

After nations, global peace

In "After Nations," Rana Dasgupta offers an original history—and critique—of the nation-state as an institution, contrasting it with empires and other political forms. The book is rich in insight and erudition, and it has been reviewed in outlets such as Financial Times and Foreign Policy, as well as in Branko Milanovic’s Substack, each highlighting different dimensions of the work.

The essay is structured in four main parts, each linking a historical empire to a concept central to the organization of political institutions. The first part connects the history of France with the concepts of God and theology, which have historically served to justify the power of both nations and empires. The second associates England with money, emphasizing the central role of finance and the unequal distribution of economic resources in the development of governing institutions. The third links the United States to law, illustrating how the dominance of money has been reinforced by legal frameworks that prioritize property rights. Finally, the fourth part examines the long continuity of the continental Chinese empire—sustained in part by communism—and its enduring influence beyond its borders, relating it to environmental constraints and the ways in which human–nature relationships shape systems of power.

The book is particularly compelling in its exposition of the darker side of the Anglo-American empire. As Milanovic observes in his review:

“Reading Dasgupta’s, and similar books that abound today, one cannot but be totally struck [by] how the contrary narratives of the British rise and the Industrial Revolution, some ‘crowned’ by the Nobel Prizes, succeed in almost completely erasing the aspects of domestic and foreign terrorism, enslavement, beatings, outright piracy, compression into Navy services, enclosures, fabulous enrichment of political elites, military suppression of revolts, famines and executions under the beautifully sounding title of ‘Glorious Revolution’. ‘The Glorious Revolution—Dasgupta writes—inaugurated the modern state in its raw form: an undemocratic commercial machine that unleashed terror at home and abroad’ (p. 113). Eliding this truth is like describing Soviet industrialization and the Great Terror by studying Moscow parades. But nobody has received a Nobel Prize for that. Well, perhaps the Stalin Prize…”

Dasgupta uses this historical analysis to argue that the currently dominant nation-state is a relatively recent contingency—one that may already have passed its peak in terms of its capacity to address contemporary global challenges. Today, only a minority of nation-states can be considered successful, and even those that provide reasonable standards of living are increasingly threatened by more dysfunctional or aggressive ones. The brief period during which some nation-states have prospered is overshadowed by the many instances of ethnic cleansing, genocide, invasion, and war that continue to shape global politics.

The selective application of the principle of self-determination—advanced by Woodrow Wilson at the end of the World War I—was arguably inevitable, since “peoples” overlap and cannot be neatly divided into territorially bounded units. It is impossible to partition the Earth into discrete fragments to which such a right can be cleanly applied. Today, national sovereignty is increasingly challenged by technological multinationals, transnational terrorism, and more benign and promising arrangements such as international treaties (for example, those governing Antarctica).

In some cases, societies have developed more flexible and constructive arrangements: Jerusalem as a shared international city; Northern Ireland as a space jointly governed by Catholics and Protestants; or South Africa as a society shared among Black, white, and other communities. Only the most rigid positions insist on strict partition in such contexts. From this perspective, the idea that the Palestinian question can be resolved through the further proliferation of nation-states—especially in an already fragile Middle Eastern (or “West Asian,” in Dasgupta’s terms) context—appears misguided.

The European Union stands out as a project on which alternative political forms might be built, although it remains imperfect and nation-states continue to exercise significant power within its governance structures.

A world dominated by nation-states is failing to deliver global peace, advanced democracy, or a sustainable and egalitarian economy. Today, only a small fraction of the world’s population lives in genuine democracies, while others survive through niches such as money laundering or narcotrafficking. 

After the four main sections, the book concludes with two shorter chapters: one exploring possible alternatives to the nation-state, and another attempting to define it. The discussion of alternatives is, understandably, somewhat unsatisfying, reflecting the difficulty of reconciling what is desirable with what is feasible.

Ultimately, it is likely that the evolution of unpredictable historical processes will determine the forms that replace the nation-state. The final chapter, devoted to defining the institution itself, is particularly incisive in highlighting its internal contradictions—for example, the impossibility of defining “pure” nations or of identifying states that truly monopolize violence. As things stand, nation-states concentrate too much power, often enabling harmful outcomes. We should move toward something better—although doing so entails the risk of something worse.

Trumpism and capitalism

According to Luigi Zingales, Trump is attacking capitalism, and capitalists should unite and resist. Zingales’s piece is a notable attempt to save the face of capitalism: in his view, Trumpism is not a consequence of capitalism but, rather, capitalism is its victim.

However, it is not very convincing to claim that Trumpism has emerged in the country that most strongly symbolizes capitalism, and that this economic system bears no responsibility for the rise of such a serious political pathology.

Zingales argues that “the biggest threat to capitalism has always been the arbitrary abuse of government power.” He also claims that Trump’s behavior is not capitalist but socialist and authoritarian. Yet capitalists—American and otherwise—have themselves abused government power in arbitrary ways, for example in Chile, or have attempted to manipulate it in the United States through campaign finance, lobbying, and corruption.

Zingales further states that “without respect for the rule of law, we cannot have capitalism.” Really? What about Chile under Pinochet, Spain under Franco, and similar cases? He concedes that without the rule of law we may instead have “crony capitalism.” Fair enough—but in that case, capitalism is “crony” in many, many places.

A few years ago, in his book "Capitalism Alone," Branko Milanovic argued that capitalism had been left without competing economic systems after the fall of communism and China’s adoption of a market economy. At the same time, democracy has been eroding in recent decades, with the fastest decline now taking place in the United States. According to data reported by Martin Wolf in the Financial Times, only 7% of the world’s population lives in genuine democracies (down from 17% just a few years ago). It appears that capitalism has advanced while democracy has receded. Admittedly, that 7% also lives under capitalism—but likely a more constrained and better-regulated version than the one found in autocracies or backsliding countries.

There is little doubt that the kind of mafia-style state Trump is promoting is at odds with a certain version of capitalism. But this is an idealized version. Trump represents a frontal attack on both free markets and well-regulated markets. Yet capitalism—an economic system in which economic power is concentrated in the hands of capital owners—can coexist with markets that are neither free nor properly regulated. Neoliberalism, understood as an extreme version of capitalism, coexisted with brutal dictatorships in the twentieth century and has now morphed into a kind of “dark enlightenment,” as described in Quinn Slobodian’s "Hayek’s Bastards."

Some of the world’s wealthiest capitalists are endorsing Trump’s global coup. It might be comforting to believe that anti-capitalists can build a successful democratic alternative. But for now, we may need the support of forward-looking and altruistic capitalists—if they exist, as in the Anthropic model praised by Zingales—who understand that human progress requires more and better democracy, not less. So far, however, it has not been capitalists or other elites who have united against Trumpism, but rather ordinary people in the streets, along with some scientists, intellectuals, and journalists writing on alternative media platforms like Substack.