Britain was once proud to be a free country. Now millions cling to nanny
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Many of us have played the game, if only in our minds: if we were prime minister for a day with total power to get things done, what law would we introduce? We complain all the time that politicians fail to get to grips with the real issues, preferring to grandstand and virtue signal.
We want them to do things that are practical and down to earth, like fixing potholes, running the economy competently, keeping taxes low, and spending our money wisely. Or sensible, like stopping the transgender madness infecting our schools, or getting a grip on immigration (the legal kind), or ensuring the streets are safe to walk. These are things governments can do because tax, public spending, education, border control and policing are in their hands.
But they are difficult. Instead, politicians prefer to find something dramatic, game-changing and life enhancing that, on the face of it, costs little in financial terms, looks good and might burnish their credentials as caring individuals able to “make a difference”.
Those occupying the post of prime minister feel this more acutely than any. How will I be remembered? What can I do that will bring about lasting change? What is my legacy? Presumably such thoughts were going through Rishi Sunak’s mind before his conference speech in Manchester last October when he startled delegates with an unexpectedly bold policy.
“I propose that, in future, we raise the smoking age by one year, every year. That means a 14 year old today will never legally be sold a cigarette and that they – and their generation – can grow up smoke free.”
Mr Sunak, anticipating criticism about “nanny statism”, added: “We know this works.”
In truth, he knows no such thing because no one has ever tried it before anywhere in the world. New Zealand introduced a similar measure when Jacinda Ardern was premier; but when her Labour party was beaten by centre-Right conservatives, it was repealed before it even took effect.
You can see how Mr Sunak arrived at this point. Smoking is bad for people, it places a great strain on the NHS, costing some £17 billion a year. It used to be said that the revenues from duties were greater than the cost of treating smoking-related diseases, but that is no longer the case because of the decline in the number of current smokers. However, tobacco duty still brings in £10 billion.
If a policy can reduce cancer deaths significantly, why would anyone oppose it, or so Mr Sunak has reasoned. Yet 67 MPs, mainly Conservatives, did so in tonight’s vote on the Second Reading of the Tobacco and Vapes Bill. His two immediate predecessors in No 10 were deeply critical. Boris Johnson called the measure “absolutely nuts” and Liz Truss said it was “profoundly unconservative”.
So where are the limits of state interventionism? We are so used to those in positions of authority telling us how to live our lives that it is easy to forget that this is a relatively new phenomenon. The roots of paternalism can be traced to the birth of the post-war welfare state and the idea of cradle-to-grave social provision. Iain Macleod – later chancellor of the Exchequer – dubbed it “the nanny state”, one in which protectionism, intervention, rules and regulations are increasingly used as a first option by bureaucrats and lawmakers.
Perhaps we secretly enjoy being nannied. Macleod belonged to a generation and a class for whom the nanny was a beloved and benign influence, not a pernicious one. When he coined the term “nanny state”, he did not necessarily mean it to be pejorative, but rather an acknowledgement that we need to be cared for collectively. But government intrusion has grown far beyond anything Macleod had in mind.
To what extent should the state intervene in the lives of its citizens if their actions are not impinging on the rights of others? It is now accepted that the government can stop you smoking in a public place because of the passive health risk. Few now challenge the legal requirement for a motorcyclist to wear a helmet, even though the only likely victim is the rider.
But why not mandatory helmets for cyclists? Are they next? What about sugar taxes? Should the state dictate what we eat because the long-term consequences of obesity will be a greater drain on the NHS than smoking?
The Government is preparing to introduce affordability checks on gamblers, which will see punters undergo financial background screening if they lose £125 a month or £500 in a year – the equivalent of just £1.37 a day.
This intrusion of state agencies into what used to be considered our private space in the name of the public good is at best irritating, at worst corrosive. The constant barrage of instructions and warnings directed at passengers waiting for a train – tie your shoelaces, carry water, hold the handrail, don’t give money to beggars – are infuriating but ultimately pointless because we just blot them out. Paternalism is invariably accompanied by censoriousness, a general tut-tut aimed at anyone stepping out of line.
But this can have far greater consequences. Once it is accepted that the state has a right, even an obligation, to intervene anywhere it chooses, it will have no moral compunction about taking most of our income to spend on things that it believes to be important. This was once the great ideological dividing line between conservatives and socialists, only now it is blurred.
So ingrained has this notion become that polls show a large number of voters go along with it. Many people want an avuncular arm thrown around their shoulder, guiding them through life, and paying their way while telling them what to eat, how much to drink and even what to think (look to Scotland). We now live in a world where the police investigate people’s views and opinions, and universities no longer teach courses, or even recommend books, whose contents might upset students.
No nation can exist without rules and regulations, but there must be limits. The modern fetish is to control every aspect of our lives and behaviour, even when we have grown up and should make decisions for ourselves. Will future generations even be capable of doing so? A Conservative prime minister searching for a legacy should turn back this tide, not send it further up the beach.
