Addressing his people after the destruction of Nagasaki and Hiroshima by nuclear bombs, the Japanese Emperor Hirohito stated that ‘the war situation has developed not necessarily to Japan's advantage, while the general trends of the world have all turned against her interest’. Similarly, for those of us invested in the project of redefining modern British culture beyond the sense of ‘narrow Englishness’ that has dominated the early 21st century, the electoral situation has developed not necessarily to our advantage.

If we accept that one of the reasons for Labour’s catastrophic defeat in the 2019 election was our failure to present an alternative to Little England parochialism, then Alex Niven’s polemic/memoir New Model Island is a decent place to begin rectifying that. Whilst it is an instinctive reaction for some to want to wrap the Labour project in the Union Jack and party like it’s 1997, my attitude towards notions of ‘progressive patriotism’ is one of suspicion verging on hostility, so I was heartened by Niven’s early declaration that ‘we need to abandon England and start looking for a replacement'.

New Model Island rejects the idea that aspects of Englishness can be used by the progressive middle classes to make their ideas seem more acceptable to the general public, highlighting the effects of the ‘recent coming together of cultural traditionalism and progressive patriotism’ in ‘an attempt to meet an insurgent far-right halfway’. Niven correctly notes that ‘by liberalising and mollifying the ‘legitimate concerns' behind uglier nationalisms like UKIP and the English Defence League', centrist commentators and politicians merely strengthened the right.

He also astutely identifies a prominent sense of gloom, destruction and darkness in the English national myth, characterised by Kazuo Ishiguro in his novel The Buried Giant as a fog enveloping the landscape. Niven highlights the legend of King Arthur, which ends with the hero betrayed, washing up at Avalon in a sort of metaphysical half-life, waiting for a glorious resurrection which never seems to come. This idea that 'England somehow does not quite exist, and has indeed not been allowed to exist since the arrival of a mysterious evil at the start of its history' feeds into the sense of populist ressentiment successfully exploited by the British right, borrowing from Nixon. Not that this myth exists solely on the right; a strand of left-wing thought harks back to a legendary pre-Norman constitution, and a freedom-loving primitive democracy crushed by foreign invaders (I suspect a high correlation between use of the term ‘Norman Yoke’ and enthusiasm for Lexit).

Whilst Niven rejects the implications of these myths, he agrees with the substance: England ‘does not really exist’. Subsumed since the 18th century first by the UK, and then the EU and the grid of global capital, England is comparable to the ancient kingdom of Northumbria – existing in the folk memory and useful for tourism, but not a geopolitical entity in any meaningful sense. Where others see long shadows on county cricket grounds, and old maids cycling to holy communion through the morning mist, Niven argues that the notion of English identity is 'at best, a vague anachronism, at worst the recent cultural daydream of a neoliberal order which really operates on the basis of finance capitalism, hierarchy, and the denial of more radical popular hopes and dreams'.

In particular, Niven argues against the idea of an ethnically homogenous angelfolc or English people, pointing to a Wellcome Trust study which identified significant genetic disparities between the regions. If there is an ‘English’ people, the study suggested, they are confined largely to the Home Counties, which is our next problem. For Niven, it is obvious that, for example, the North East has more in common economically and culturally with the Scottish borders than it does with London – likewise the West Midlands and North Wales. The outdated idea of England forces the regions to rely on the capital, rather than building stronger ties with the areas closer to them. To combat this, he proposes that 'an assertive revival of the late 20th-century push for regional devolution, which preceded the retreat into Englishness over the past two decades, must be at the forefront of our contemporary left revival'.

Evidence of the harmful, draining impact London has on the rest of England is found in one of the book’s digressions into memoir, where Niven discusses his experience of geographical precarity – the need for those outside London to move from place to place in pursuit of jobs and affordable housing. This results in the breakdown of traditional support structures, a process exacerbated by the North’s appalling transport infrastructure. While proponents of the mythical ‘One Nation Toryism’ (surely now a floating signifier) have made gestures towards regionalism with HS2 and the Northern Powerhouse, these projects actually exacerbate the problem, turning Manchester and Birmingham into satellites of London, draining resources from the surrounding areas and raising property prices as great cities become commuter overspill areas for the capital. Where funds could be more usefully spent, argues Niven, is in improving transport links between the northern cities, creating a ‘North-West triangle’ which unites the non-English nations with the ‘English periphery’.

One seeming beneficiary of increased regional autonomy is Manchester, where the Devo Manc scheme has given local authorities increased control over health care provision, housing and transport. However, there are notable issues with implementation: firstly, a lack of democratic oversight, as there has been little public engagement, and no scrutiny body created to supervise the project. This risks moving decision-making away from politics and towards a technocratic process. Secondly, it does not take into account intra-regional differences in demographics, political leanings and economic strength. Thirdly, it is reliant on government funding, and is therefore subject to the whims of Downing Street. Finally, it creates regional inequalities and power imbalances: why should Manchester receive these apparent benefits, and not Liverpool? It could be argued that Manchester and Liverpool have more in common than Manchester and Stockport, for example.

Although Niven does not specifically address Devo Manc, he is able to suggest a solution of sorts to the problems it raises. After improving transport links across the North, he argues, the next step should be the creation of a new administrative centre in Carlisle (picked for its geographical links and pre-British heritage). This development – an update on T Dan Smith’s vision of Brasilia-on-Tyne – would allow the North to develop its own economy, and a measure of true independence from London, whilst smoothing out regional inequalities. While an infrastructure project of this size may appear utopian, it wouldn’t necessarily be any more expensive or time-consuming than HS2, and could deliver more tangible benefits. Other long-standing problems are dealt with swiftly: 'there should, and will, be a united Ireland in the relatively near future. This is in a sense the simplest and most righteous component of a redesign of the archipelago'.

In addition to the economic arguments, Niven is also able to put forward an emotive argument in favour of this radical regionalism. Drawing on Mark Fisher, a constant and acknowledged reference point for this work, Niven talks of ‘dream archipelagos’, regions connected by ancient sea-links which still bear traces of shared culture. While it’s always a bit worrying when a political thesis says 'at this point we must cross over a little way into the realms of sci-fi conjecture', these imagined communities still have an atavistic power which, Niven hopes, can bring together ‘the best features of leftist anti-nationalism and anti-imperialism on the one hand, and left populism and communitarianism the other'.

In some ways, Niven’s work is a significant break with left-wing tradition: Attlee, for example, was deeply suspicious of federalisation, while New Labour’s commitment to regional devolution seemed half-hearted at best. Yet it seems appropriate for the present time. We can suppose that, over the next five years, voters in traditionally Labour-voting constituencies in the Midlands and the North will grow tired of having money siphoned off to support the southern shires. The party must be ready with a solution that can convince and energise these voters to return to Labour. Niven’s argument that 'we need to guarantee that a renewed programme for regional government, based on a fundamental, radical and imaginative overhaul of our civic architecture, is substantially ready for implementation in the early days of a socialist government' is one that could turn the political situation back to Labour’s advantage.

Thom Cuell is the editorial director of Dodo Ink, an independent publisher specialising in daring and difficult fiction. His writing has appeared in 3AM Magazine and Minor Literature[s], where he is interviews and features editor.

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