Britain and its Rabble

In his Philosophy of Right (1820), the German philosopher G.W.F. Hegel writes:

“Poverty in itself does not make men into a rabble; a rabble is created only when there is joined to poverty a disposition of mind, an inner indignation against the rich, against society, against the government…A further consequence of this attitude is that through their dependence on chance men become frivolous and idle…In this way, there is born in the rabble the evil of lacking self-respect enough to secure subsistence by its own labor and yet at the same time of claiming to receive subsistence as its right.”

By ‘rabble’ Hegel means large groups of poor and workless people in urban areas—particularly as these groups existed in 19^th century Britain—who become desperate in their condition and resentful toward society. I watched with horror last night as roving gangs of youths ravaged through London and other English cities. And let me say now that such depredation is inexcusable and that I support the ongoing efforts to restore order in London. But I must also say that the theft, arson, vandalism, and violence of the last few nights should serve to remind Britain of the dangers of its rabble. As Hegel says, poverty alone does not create the rabble; it is poverty combined with bitterness, disaffection, and ill-feeling toward those believed to be responsible for the poverty, and its attendant conditions, that creates the rabble. All last night I kept hearing the youth gangs described as opportunists, and reporters from the scene were careful to emphasize the “mindlessness” of the rampage. There seemed to be a tremendous effort to emphasize the criminal, as opposed to political, nature of the violence—which is a reasonable juxtaposition given the circumstances surrounding the original riot last Saturday. But who says a rabble must act out of political consciousness? Its very nature, as Hegel says, is to be childish and easily moved. The kids in these makeshift gangs only know that they want things, and they see no means of obtaining them through work; so when an opportunity to plunder with impunity emerges they take it. This form of “opportunism”, if we must call it that, is deeply rooted in the social fabric of Britain, and it will not be displaced through mass arrests and tough jail sentences.

Anger and fear are still at the forefront of minds struggling to regain control of London. That is why we hear nothing but threats and condemnations coming from the mouths of the authorities. And I imagine in the coming days we will hear about how the government’s spending cuts will affect programs designed to help young people from deprived areas, and how they will also hamper the ability of the police to handle the kind of disorder that has occurred over past few nights. But none of this chatter will deal with the real problem: Britain’s permanent underclass: its rabble. During the 90s and 00s it became passé to speak about this issue because everyone seemed to be doing well. The rich got richer (as they always do) and a great many people from the lower middle class joined the ranks of the upper middle class. Growth and prosperity seemed boundless; and the belief took root that poverty, however endemic, was manageable, and that many poor people were just lazy do-nothings who abused Britain’s generous benefits system. Now it is not my wish to explore the causes of poverty; indeed, the point that I am making is not political or economic but social (note: not sociological). The fact is society, as Hegel argues elsewhere in the Philosophy of Right, is an integral whole: what affects one part of it will inevitably affect other parts of it. The middle and upper classes in Britain cannot expect to get on with life and pretend that the swelling ranks of the marginalized will in no way affect them.

I am particularly concerned about how the middle class responds to these disturbances because the wealthy have always used them as a buffer against the poor and working classes in Britain: consciously and unconsciously stirring the native resentment and distrust the classes have for one another in order to keep them all in check. My hope is that when the anger dies down—and I do not for a moment believe that business persons who have had their property destroyed should not be angry—the middle class will begin asking not only legal and political questions but social ones as well: Why was there so much anger directed toward the police? How did so many youths become disconnected from social norms? What is the government doing to combat structural poverty and unemployment in order to ease the size and frustration of Britain’s rabble? The impoverished communities of London, Birmingham, Manchester, and elsewhere must also ask social questions: How did we lose control of our children? How can we better organize to alleviate the economic distress of our community? How can we engage the middle class in a way that gets them to understand the conditions here and compels them to act for the sake of our mutual interests in British society?

There is much talk in Britain about “social inclusion”, and Mr. Cameron never tires of talking about the “Big Society” and “Broken Britain”; but none of these buzz phrases mean anything if there is no real sense of social awareness and social solidarity. Mr. Cameron’s idea that charities should be engaged to deliver certain government services is the most asinine scheme since the Corn Laws. The Prime Minister seems to think that citizen volunteerism will help unify Britain and solve both the problems of permanent poverty and the national debt. But Britain’s underclass will not be helped through white guilt and institutionalized pity; only social function and self-respect will ease the rabble, and these two things can only be had by asking questions about society as a whole.