A student of history will observe that, in almost all societies, before substantial public unrest and even revolution, there comes a breaking point where the governing class simply ask too much of the governed. People who study, for example, the French revolution (depicted above in the Delacroix painting “liberty guiding the people) will know that while there were many underlying causes, the spark which set the kindling alight was the devaluation of the coinage of France by the Archbishop and Minister, Etienne de Brienne, in 1787. The resulting inflation made basic items like bread unaffordable. That, in time, led to the allegation that the queen had advised eating cake, and in turn, to the guillotine. By itself, the inflation might have been tolerated. But it came at the end of a century where the French crown had bathed in splendor and wealth, while the living standards of the poor had stayed the same, or fallen. The resentments and fuel for revolution were already there – all de Brienne did was be careless with his matches.
Looked at by itself, in isolation, the decision to devalue the French currency was probably the right economic policy. The problem was simply that too much had been demanded of the French, for too long, and finally, the peasantry had their fill of it.
I wonder how close we are to a similar breaking point in Ireland, and in Europe, and indeed the wider west. It feels to me – and perhaps I am alone in this – that for about fifteen years now, our politicians have been demanding sacrifices from the public in order that some better end might be achieved. The obvious example of this is on climate and energy, where the price of everything must rise, and rise substantially, if the planet, we are told, is to be saved. But then there was Covid, when the public were told to make sacrifices to save the vulnerable. There is housing, where a great many students for example are being asked to make sacrifices to help Ukrainians. There was the universal social charge, where we were all asked to make sacrifices to save, effectively, the banks. That was to be a temporary sacrifice, and yet, like so many others, it endures. We have had economic collapse, followed by austerity, followed by covid, followed, now, by runaway inflation. With the crusade to save the planet as the salad dressing on top of all these crises.
The promised land, with this ruling class that we have, is always just around the corner. It will all be worth it in the end, they insist, every time. And every time rage bubbles up, it feels like just enough is done to stave it off for another few weeks. This week, for example, the public sector got a pay rise, and a substantial one. But given inflation, the recipients of that pay rise will still be poorer, after they receive it, than they were before inflation surged. The forthcoming budget will provide money to help with energy bills, but it is a certainty that those who receive that aid will still be paying more for energy than they were before the aid became necessary.
At the same time, politicians benefit from that pay rise to the tune of a minimum of about €6,500 per year each. Perhaps it would be unfair to exclude them, but whether fairly or not, that figure will stoke anger in those for whom such a sum would be a small fortune.
It feels, inexorably, like a period of managed decline. The slow, but relentless, erosion of living standards.
Things that we had become used to – like affordable and ubiquitous electricity – are no longer certainties, but political preaching about how important the sacrifices are is a certainty. This is the character of society for which Louis XVI, and Cromwell, and even poor old Charlie Haughey, of “we must tighten our belts” fame, were hated in their times.
For the decline is not even, truly, mourned by our rulers. It is embraced with a vigor and a passion that has, as I have written before, an openly religious quality. We are told unendingly that our sacrifices make us virtuous. The virtuous and the good embrace personal pronouns and personal penance, even if, as I suspect, it is the only way they can make any sense of their own declining situations. What is it all for, after all, if not the greater good?
There is revolution brewing. If we are fortunate, it will be a revolution without guillotines, this time.
Rulers cannot ask this much of their people, for so long, and expect it to be borne without rebellion. Having made housing unaffordable, liberalism is now doing the same for heating. Having locked us down to protect us from Covid, some in Government now consider restricting our movements to protect us from energy shortages. Having taxed us to high heaven to save the banks, the ruling class now wants to tax us more, to save the media, and the green energy companies, and the NGOs. It is not a recipe for a happy or contented society.
People get tired of living with perma-crisis, for which the solution is always that they carry the can and the cost. The breaking point might be years away, yet, or months, or just weeks. No more than de Brienne, when he debased the currency, we cannot know what the future will bring, or when. But unless history teaches us nothing worth knowing, the breaking point is coming, as a certainty. The only question is when.