Footscray Football Club Marks 100 Years In The VFL/AFL

For Friday night’s game against Collingwood, my beloved football club temporarily resumed its actual and traditional name, Footscray.

The reason for this was to mark 100 years since the Footscray Football Club (Western Bulldogs since 1997) entered the AFL’s predecessor league, the Victorian Football League.

At the time, in 1925, the entry of Footscray, the reigning VFA Premier and Champion of Victoria (having defeated the reigning VFL Premier Essendon in a post season match), along with North Melbourne and Hawthorn, made the VFL the undisputed top football competition in Australia.

Sadly, success has come slowly and rarely, compared with North Melbourne and its two golden ages with 4 premierships, and Hawthorn, with its 13 premierships. But at least, with 2016 (what we Footscray supporters call the Wink From The Universe) and the grand final appearance in 2021, we have had some success in recent years.

Indeed, much as I would like to see another premiership, after seeing 2016, I am well content for the rest of my lifetime, if I am being honest.

Given that the club resumed its old name for this one round, there is some discussion on social media this weekend about how it would be better if the Western Bulldogs were to permanently resume the traditional name, Footscray.

There are pros and cons to that.

The big con is the geographic marketing rationale. When David Smorgon drove the name change on assuming the presidency of the Club, it was because Footscray was no longer the major part of the Western Suburbs of Melbourne. The Western Suburbs now stretch out towards Rockbank and soon will meet up with Melton in the west, and are growing far past Werribee in the south west – those areas all, until recently, small villages or townships outside of Greater Melbourne. With several games being played in Ballarat each year, even further west, there is even greater cause to support the Western Bulldogs name.

But then there are the pros. Traditional and sentimentality are amongst the factors which bind people to their football teams. Many people are from families with deep intergenerational links to Footscray, even if they no longer live there (I am proud that the place of birth recorded on my passport is Footscray). The Club itself is still based at its historic home ground on the corner of Barkly and Gordon Streets, unlike Collingwood, St Kilda, Hawthorn, and (very soon) Richmond. People love their home town, and they love their home town team.

I remember that a few years ago the Club offered members a chance to actually vote on what design the club jumper should have, going forward. The options were the historic pre 1975 jumper (royal blue with separate single red and white hoops), or a more ornate modern jumper, with a bulldog’s head on some more elaborate hoops. Members voted to return to the old jumper, and so it has been for several years, including in 2016.

I think perhaps it is time that members had a chance to vote on whether to retain the Western Bulldogs name, or to return to the tradition Club name, Footscray.

I for one would vote for Footscray.

My Solar Panels – Is There Finally An End In Sight To This Debacle?

Semi regular readers of this blog will know that at a couple of points over the summer I have had reason to bemoan my not so recently installed solar panels (it is now five months since those white elephants were placed on my roof).

Two weeks ago, some 4 plus months after installation, the cowboy solar installers finally got the inverter commissioned by Jemena (ie the electricity supplier).

Mind you, the installers had promised that they would take care of all the paperwork required for the electricity supplier and retailer to sort out switching on the panels, making the process hassle free for me. Obviously this was not the case, given the annoying number of calls I have had to make to the installers, to the retailer, and to the supplier since mid December.

Today, as I have heard nothing, I made a long and frustrating call to AGL (the retailer) to try and sort out the current state of the necessary meter reconfiguration. They were clueless about the inverter commissioning, and suggested I ring Jemena. Jemena’s phone line was down til sometime in the afternoon, and then when I did get through, I was told that they required AGL to request the meter reconfiguration.

And so, I rang AGL again (I have lost track of the amount of time wasted on calls to AGL or Jemena over the past three months). Was finally put through to someone who seems to know what they are doing – I then emailed them the documentation I was sent as a cc from the installers who had gotten it from Jemena two weeks ago. So now AGL are getting the meter reconfiguration request to actually happen.

This might really be end in sight to this sorry saga!

Two nasty twists to it though:

  1. Reconfiguration might take 40 working days (ie 2 months).
  2. There is no retrospectivity to when the savings start – despite the panels having been sitting on my roof fully paid for the past 5 months. (Someone in AGL at one point told me something contrary to this sometime during my many interactions.)

Another takeaway is that there is no seamlessness to this process. I needed to prod the installation company for the right documentation, then prod both the retailer and supplier as neither of them communicate with each other.

If/When I actually get the solar panels up and running, rather than sitting inertly on my roof, I am curious to see what actual difference they will make to my electricity bills, and how long til the $4700 I have wasted on them is repaid. I will be factoring in the opportunity cost of what the money spent could have actually earned if left in a high earning bank account instead (assuming a 5% interest rate, $235 pa).

I will keep you posted on this. If the panels actually start working, there will be no sense of smug joy at this development, just a sick relief that I have not lost the entire sum – just invested it poorly.

Mouvedre, Matoro, or Yarra Water?

We did our second batch of grape crushing yesterday.

A week or two back, we crushed 200kg of shiraz grapes, which we then pressed for an outcome of 110 litres of wine, which is now in secondary fermentation.

Yesterday, we drove out to Ardeer where someone was selling various varieties of grapes, as well as various random items of wine making equipment.

Looking at what the various options were (Cabernet, Grenache or Mouvèdre), we decided on Mouvedre, as the French call it, which Italians call Matoro.

Above is a photo of what the juice looked like immediately after the crush, when we needed to take an initial baume reading with the hydrometer to get an idea of how much potential alcohol this batch will produce (spoiler – 12.5%).

Obviously, it is a grape where the red colour will take a few days to seep from the skins into the juice. For the time being, it looks like Yarra water.

Chateau Garagiste – Starting the 2025 Vintage

Most of my friends are aware that I have been, for the past 20 years, an amateur wine maker, and that most of my garage is taken up with wine making equipment.

Since retiring 20 months ago, I have been able to devote more of my time to this hobby, and made (with my closest friend) about 10 dozen bottles of a relatively passable merlot last year.

So yesterday we set out on a road trip to Shiraz Republic in Heathcote to collect an order of 200kg of freshly picked shiraz grapes.

Above is a photo of me at Shiraz Republic in Heathcote, sipping a beer from the connected microbrewery whilst waiting for our order of 200kg of Shiraz grapes to be ready for collection. Don’t I look happy and contented.

Above is what 200kg of shiraz grapes from Heathcote looks like.

Above is the wine crusher (with destemmer included) in my garage.

Another look above at our grapes being crushed.

What 200kg of grapes look like after they are crushed.

After we crushed the grapes, we took a baume reading with our hydrometer to determine potential alcohol content. This indicates that the final product will have an alcohol content of 12%.

We usually wait until March or April to buy our grapes. By then, the grapes are a little drier and therefore higher in sugar content, so we are accustomed to a baume reading suggesting 14% or 15% potential alcohol.

I expect that by getting the first batch of grapes so early, we might get a bit more than half of the 200kg converted into wine (we usually get about half).

It will be interesting to see how we do with this batch.

The Veuve Clicquot

I must admit, for all that I love wine and spend lots of money drinking premium reds, I count the times I have actually drank real Champagne, as in the stuff they make in that region of France, rather than other sparkling ones, on one hand.

I probably should explain myself a little better.

In terms of my origins, my father was from Treviso, a province just north of Venice. I have been both to the walled medieval city from which the province draws its name, and to Cusignana, the actual village somewhere north of there where my father was born and raised til age 17.

It turns out that Cusignana is smack in the middle of one of the seven wine regions where Prosecco is made, according to the appellations for such matters common to Italy. Have a look at the map:

https://www.winetourism.com/wine-appellation/prosecco/#:~:text=Prosecco%20wine%20region%20belongs%20to,to%20the%20city%20of%20Venice.

All around my father’s village, there are grape vines planted, mostly of the Prosecco grape. They are mostly owned by a local winery established by Canadian emigres who have returned home to the village:

That means, since I acquired a greater knowledge of my origins and my ancestral village, that I am going to have more than a slight leaning towards drinking wines from my ancestral village, if I am to drink sparkling wines at all. [Mind you, I do still drink wines called Prosecco even though they are made from that grape in Australia, and feel no guilt at all about letting down the home town team.]

I also, through my Uncle Mario who migrated to Turin after the War, have relatives who live in Asti, a town just south east of Turin where other famous and synonymous sparkling wines are made. I will drink that too, in honour of those kinfolk.

In childhood, going to the weddings of older cousins, I would be allowed a splash of sparkling wine in a glass, being Italian. We usually called that Champagne, but it was actually something really really cheap – mostly Stock Gala Spumante, a sparkling wine with a plastic cork wrapped in leopard spotted foil.

Getting older, when of lawful drinking age and going to parties and functions where sparkling wine was served, I think it mostly was Australian stuff, which might in the days before EU threats (ie in the early 1990s) have been still called Champagne, and later Methode Champagnoise, but which now is not allowed to be called Champagne at all.

The moral of the story, to borrow from the old Bacardi rum commercials, is that if you live in Australia, you probably drink sparkling wines which are anything but Champagne.

Which means that I have, at age 55, yet to try Moet Chandon (although I have drank the wines Chandon makes in the Yarra Valley), Bollinger, Pol Roger (ie Churchill’s favourite), Mumm’s, or Dom Peringnon.

Nor have I ever drank any Veuve Clicquot.

That is probably a huge gap in my wine appreciation education, for I have known the story of the Veuve for many years.

The Veuve (French for Widow) Clicquot is probably the most innovative figure in the history of Champagne making, if not the history of all wine making since the Babylonians discovered that yeast could turn grape juice into something joyous.

Amongst her innovations are the introduction of Champagne vintages, pink champagne, and the practice of removing the yeast plug from partly fermented bottles and topping the bottles up with wine and sugar. I think I read that the cages around the corks were also her idea.

Yesterday I went and saw the arthouse biopic Widow Clicquot, which is a fascinating account of her early struggles as a newly widowed businesswoman, seeking to keep her late husband’s wine business going, and succeeding against all the odds.

It is a great tribute to and celebration of someone who was truly a creative and formidable woman, who has done so much for wine making.

I also expect, after this film has been seen by enough people, that the price of a bottle of Veuve will spiral upwards, and that of a bottle of Moet will drop.

Hopefully at some point soon, my bottle club decides on Champagne as a theme, so I can buy a bottle of the Veuve and drink it in her honour.

Why I Changed Health Insurance Companies This Year

When I was a child, our family had a private health insurance policy with HBA. We kept it til the mid 1980s when Medicare came in, and then my parents made a decision to drop it.

Throughout my twenties and early thirties, I took my health for granted and did not bother with private health insurance. Then, after I started getting slugged with the excess medicare surcharge after I suddenly got a very big spike in my annual earnings (lots of work related travel and overtime over a couple of years), I decided to return to HBA.

I did not shop around or compare the merits or reputations of health insurance companies. I just went for my internal default option and chose the company which was most familiar, insofar as I had known that my family had used them over two decades earlier.

Soon after, HBA got taken over by BUPA, a foreign company, and inertia caused me to continue with them.

There’s a lot wrong there, of course. For example, if I had gone with NIB, I would have picked up some shares when NIB demutualised. Aside from which, BUPA is a sponsor of the Carlton Football Club, which does nothing for me. Along the way, BUPA’s partnership with AGL (another of my defaults – the utility company) ended, so less value there.

Still, I did not change policies – aside from once doing a half hearted price comparison with Australian Unity sometime a few years before COVID.

So, what caused me to dump BUPA for HCF last week after 21 years of loyally paying up my membership premiums each year?

I did not plan to do it. My habit is to pay my membership premiums annually, before 1 April, so as to avoid the coming year’s price increases. As I do not like owing money, I prefer to pay my bills in advance (a silly move, I know!), particularly if I have the money earmarked for it sitting in my bank account.

So I went into the BUPA store, and was told that their system would not allow me to pay 12 months in advance so far in front of where my current policy was paid up. This is a bit silly – they should have shut up and taken my money!

I did ask what the premium for 12 months was. I was told, without any contrition, that my current policy would cost just over $2700 – as compared to just under $2200 last March.

I ran the numbers on my calculator app. That was a 25% hike in price. I was shocked.

Something shifted in me. Much as I usually subscribe to the doctrine of ‘rational ignorance’ – ie that shopping around is not worth the hassle most of the time, we were talking about $500.

A one off 25% price rise is more than enough to sever the ties of nominal baseless unrecipricated loyalty and make me think twice.

A quick visit over the corridor to Medicare indicated that Medicare would charge me $3100.

I decided to walk a little further to the HCF office. There, I was quoted about $2300 for the same policy.

Health insurance is usually rather Byzantine to the layman. The various inclusions and exclusions, the claiming of the rebate (I have always claimed it even though promotions at work, growth of my share portfolio, and bracket creep have made it doubtful that I am eligible, preferring to sort it all out at tax time), and excess makes it hard to be certain that the Silver Plus cover I was claiming at BUPA was the same as that I was being offered at HCF.

So I decided to double check with BUPA. Rather than going back into the office, I decided to lie on my couch and call them to clarify some details of the policy. The wait time was meant to be 35 minutes. However, there was an option to get called back when I got to the front of the queue. I chose that option. It did not work, and kept me on hold. When I got to the front of the queue, the operator told me that the IVRU had inadvertently dumped me into a different queue from the one I had asked for – so I was transferred.

It ended up talking more than an hour all up to get the questions answered over the phone. I was not impressed.

Having confirmed what I needed to know about the existing policy, and being riled up by the unresponsiveness of the call centre technology and delays, I decided that I was going to drop BUPA after 21 years, provided that the HCF policy was sufficiently similar in coverage.

The next day, I went into the HCF store and asked the same questions about excess, rebate being factored in, and coverage. When it was confirmed that the policy was as similar to what I had with BUPA, but was $400 cheaper, I did not hesitate anymore.

Why now? I am not looking at dumping Telstra as my mobile/internet provider. Nor am I looking at changing banks. Nor do I see any need to dump AGL as my energy retailer. RACV as my house insurance is also safe.

I suppose it is a number of factors. The 25% price hike was something which I could not overlook. The lack of empathy from the sales rep, as compared to the friendly person at HCF is another. And the poor quality of the call centre system (ie the automated part) which made two separate serious mistakes which made my time feel as not valued by BUPA did not impress me.

As well, I have spent a lot of time on calls and emails this past month trying to sort out my electricity meter reconfiguration with my electricity supplier and my less than stellar solar panel installers. My patience with poor customer service is starting to wear thin and I am now much more inclined to reward price rises and poor customer service with what they truly merit.

Does The Super Bowl Actually Matter?

Given that Super Bowl LIX kicks off at about 10.30am AEDST tomorrow morning, it has been making its way into my news feeds a bit lately.

I don’t actually care that much about gridiron, and have never found the patience to watch an entire game, to be honest.

Tomorrow will not be an exception. Apparently many people will be gathering at pubs around Melbourne to watch the game, but I will not be one of them. This is because, whilst retired and able to drink beer whenever I want to, I don’t see starting at 10am when the Anglers Hotel opens its doors as a wise life choice. [I’m planning to do lunch at the Savage Club on both Wednesday and Thursday, and both lunches will involve wine.]

As one concession to this special occasion however, I have dragged my Cleveland Browns jersey out of the wardrobe to wear tomorrow. When I bought it 27 months ago from Rebel Sport for about $40 – a deep discount – the player named and numbered on the back had just left the Browns for some team more likely to be successful (a familiar story), and I have never really paid close enough attention to the NFL to find a reason to wear it.

But for tomorrow, I will make an effort – me being quite contrarian in my choice of NFL team.

However, the interest in the Super Bowl on this far flung corner of the globe from the USA does beg the question as to why does this matter to us anyway?

As I have written in my blog several times, organised sport, both in terms of players and spectators, is a matter of economics.

The Industrial Revolution led to the rise of the organised football codes in the UK initially, as greater wealth and leisure time enabled people to rise above the drudgery of their normal dreary lives to enjoy something joyous and uplifting. Horse racing, the ‘sport of kings’ became more accessible as more people had money to bet on it or to own thoroughbreds (a sub breed of Arabian horse descended from 3 stallions and 7 mares imported to the UK in the 18th century).

The Victorian Gold Rush suddenly made 1850s Melbourne the wealthiest city in the world for four decades – bringing with it the early development of Australian Rules football, the popularisation of horse racing, and the birth of Test Cricket.

Having the time to watch a sporting match of some sort, or to buy overpriced tickets to that game, to say nothing of the associated fan gear, is a sign of both individual wealth, and, more broadly, of societal wealth.

We live in a society where people can afford to ‘chuck a sickie’ to day drink in a pub whilst watching a game popular only in one particular country most of us never want to visit, and to buy the otherwise obscure fan gear of limited relevance to our usual sporting alliances.

That the opportunity is there for us to congregate in such pubs and bars across the country to do so indicates that this is merely not a matter of individual high disposable income, it is a sign that there are enough people with sufficient discretionary money to spend on this that pubs are going to open early on a Monday (virtually the only pubs who are open before 12pm these days are those with poker machines) in order to rake in the money from the punters.

I suppose that this is a good thing – that we are wealthy enough to celebrate even the most irrelevant sporting events at the most inconvenient time imaginable despite all the regular background chatter about interest rates, housing inaffordability, and related economic doom and gloom.

The Rosstown Tavern

You have to feel for the good burghers of Rosstown. The founding developer of this village, 7 miles southeast of Melbourne, William Murray Ross, had gone broke after the land boom of the 1880s went bust in the early 1890s, and all the promise and potential which had come with his big dreams had evaporated.

And so, when they heard that Scottish-American industrialist and philanthropist Andrew Carnegie was donating money for civic good works around the globe, they decided to change the name of their town from Rosstown to Carnegie in 1909.

They hoped that as a result of this flattery, Andrew Carnegie might find it in his heart (and wallet) to fund a public library for his namesake town.

This did not happen, but the name Carnegie stuck, as a reminder of this failed attempt at flattering a foreign tycoon into parting with his money.

Perhaps it was better than leaving the original name to remind the townsfolk of the trials and tribulations of the land boom and the failed speculations of their local dodgy property developer.

The only remnants of the Rosstown name now, over a century later, are Rosstown Road, and the Rosstown Hotel, which sits on Dandenong Road.

I was in Carnegie recently which is a rare thing for me. The pretty old wooden railway station, surrounded by peppercorn trees, has been overshadowed and superseded by the skyrail station, and whilst this gets rid of a level crossing bottleneck, it does make the area feel a little colder and impersonal.

I was there to have a look at the local bottleshop, which was formerly known for its back vintages. Sadly, whilst it is still of excellent quality, back vintages no longer make up a part of their business plan.

Hence, out of curiosity, I decided to pop into the Rosstown Hotel for a look.

Aside from the Nottinghill Hotel on Ferntree Gully Road, I am not particularly familiar with any of the pubs in the intermediate southeastern suburbs. Travelling to and from Monash Uni to my home in Footscray took long enough in my younger days, and when I worked in Dandenong, the journey home was even longer and more tiring.

So I was interested in seeing what the Rosstown Hotel was all about. From the outside, it is done in a Spanish Mission style, with attractive terracotta tiles on the roof – I think there is another pub nearby which has been done in a similar style. [Of course, do not quote me on that – I don’t pass through there often enough to have the landmarks engraved into my mental map of Greater Melbourne.]

The inside however, is a bit of a shock. It is a giant rabbit warren of poker machines and possibly nothing else. The only other pub I can think of in Greater Melbourne with such a large poker machine presence is the Braybrook Hotel, approximately 11km due west of the city.

I heard tell, around the time that Crown Casino was opened, that no other casino was ever to be permitted (or at least for very many years) within 10km of the city. That, I heard, made large pub venues just over the 10km radius, even more valuable as potential alternative sites for future casinos.

That might not be true, and I am not particularly interested in digging out the realities of Crown’s casino license and whatever undertakings were made 30 years ago when it opened. But what is true is that the Rosstown Hotel is, in terms of poker machines, almost a casino in its own right, as are the Braybrook Hotel and Ashley Hotel (a former uber-dive pub with sticky carpet and ball point pen graffiti on its walls) on the other side of town.

In the case of the Rosstown and Braybrook, I fear that these are pubs which could have been something better for the local communities than de facto casinos.

But it is what it is. Poker machines have ruined a lot of pubs in the past three decades, and represent a lack of imagination and creativity on the part of pub owners, many of whom are now large corporations who care nothing about a local community.

Manhattan in Maribyrnong

There is an oblong of land (as a child I preferred the word ‘oblong’ over rectangle) in Maribyrnong, bordered by Rosamond Road, Williamsons Road, Wests Road, and Raleigh Road (fun fact – the latter three roads are named after early land owners from colonial times). This land has mostly been industrial until recently, although it has partly transitioned since the late 1980s to retail showrooms along Rosamond Road.

Over the past decade or so, three high rise apartment complexes have sprung up in this oblong. Two are at opposing ends of Wests Road, and one in a side street somewhere off Rosamond Road.

Hence, whenever I stroll down Canning Street, I do not have to look as far as the CBD 11 km away to see a skyline – we have one 2 km away just over the river.

This is just the start of something big.

The northeast corner of this oblong is a very large site, which used to be occupied by a large warehouse. This has now been bulldozed and two large apartment towers (one being 30 stories tall) will be built there with an estimated completion date of 2032.

All along Raleigh Road from that corner, there are various other warehouses. One is a storage facility, and another is the Victorian HQ for some Buddhist sect whose name escapes me (all I know is that Suzanne Vega, my favourite singer, is an adherent to it).

As land gets more expensive in Maribyrnong, I strongly suspect that those warehouses would not be the most profitable use for those locations, at which point we will see more bulldozers and a few more apartment towers going up.

Nor do I see any of the side streets off Rosamond Road remaining as they are either.

Ultimately, I see a future where almost the entire oblong is taken over by apartment towers, aside from the various furniture showrooms located along Rosamond Road.

And then we have the explosives factory site immediately to the north. As I have written before, remediation of this site is going to be extremely expensive, in the hundreds of millions. The contamination has so far delayed all the proposals which have circulated for the entire length of my residency in Avondale Heights. But I suspect that remediation does not need to be done that thoroughly if high rise apartments are constructed on that site.

And thus I believe that we will see a very impressive array of high rise towers in West Maribyrnong within the next two decades, something to rival what has happened in Moonee Ponds and central Footscray in recent years.

Neoliberalism and its Malcontents

Keanu Reeves is one of my favourite actors. He has done quite a lot of interesting roles, starting with playing the stoner boyfriend of Martha Plimpton in the 1989 film Parenthood, where he says ‘Let’s record our love’ whilst brandishing a polaroid camera.

Since that role, he has belied typecasting as a stoner, despite his first lead role being Ted ‘Theodore’ Logan in the Bill and Ted trilogy. Aside from Ted, he has earned great acclamation as John Wick in the surreal ultra-noir series about a hitman at war with the underworld, and in the Matrix franchise as the hero Neo.

Neo is not usually used as a noun, either Proper or Common. Neo is usually used as a prefix, based on the Latin, denoting something new or revived, usually in a political context, and usually in a pejorative way.

For example, we have ‘neo-conservatives’, or neo-cons for short.

Since 9/11 or thereabouts, neo-cons have mostly been regarded as that faction of foreign interventionist Americans who supported the second Gulf War and other military misadventures engaged in during the presidency of Bush fils.

However, if you go back a little further, to the early 1980s, people would describe neo-conservatives as former socialists who had abandoned the socialist cause to support the free world in its struggle against communist tyranny. In 1984, for instance, I remember reading an article on the legacy of Eric Blair which argued ‘Orwell would be a neo-conservative if he were alive today’.

Similarly, we have the term ‘neo-liberal’.

Back in the late 1980s, when I did a course on US Politics – ‘America: Decay of the Liberal Dream’ taught by the late Professor Ray Nicholls if you are curious – neo-liberalism was a new American development in American liberalism.

[Let’s do a quick pause here to differentiate in the use of the terms ‘liberal’ and ‘conservative’. In the USA, a liberal is usually someone to the left of centre and a conservative is someone to the right of centre. In the rest of the Anglosphere, a liberal is an adherent to a particular individualist political philosophy which values individual liberty, whilst a conservative is someone who adheres to a somewhat more cryptic political philosophy which shares a lot of the same values, but which also values traditional social and cultural values. Both are considered right of centre.]

1980s neo-liberalism was some form of progressive social democratic political thinking, but which had an American accent to it (Professor Nicholls did emphasise to us that no one had successfully explained why exactly socialism had never developed in America unlike in other Western countries).

Neo-liberalism today is very different from what it was defined as back then. Neo-liberalism is what is now used to describe, usually in a very pejorative way, what in the late 1980s was usually termed ‘neo-classical liberalism’, or more simply, classical liberalism.

Classical Liberalism can probably be contained best in the works of such products of the Scottish Enlightenment as John Locke, Adam Smith, James Mill, David Hume, and John Stuart Mill.

With economists such as Von Hayek and Milton Friedman (as distinct from his son David, who termed himself an anarcho-capitalist and therefore perhaps a ‘post-neo-classical liberal’ – a term I have coined myself) classical liberalism underwent a post war intellectual revival. This is what led to the common use of the term ‘neo-classical liberal’.

Which leads me to a recently published pamphlet which I read yesterday during the 40 degree heatwave, The Invisible Doctrine: The Secret History of Neoliberalism (& How It Came to Control Your Life).

I call it a pamphlet in the old fashioned polemical sense, as when Thomas Paine published his essays on his political views over 200 years ago. It’s only about 160 pages in length, and is there to, with a few selective quotes and some expositions of recent political, social and economic developments, blame this amorphous philosophy of neoliberalism for all the ills currently facing the world.

One of its problems is that it hardly quotes any Liberal philosophers at all, except in passing, and when it does, it gets it out of context. On quoting Adam Smith on page 4, in order to introduce his famed concept of the ‘the invisible hand’, the authors state:

‘The rich, he claimed:

…are led by an invisible hand to make nearly the same distribution of the necessities of life, which would have been made, had the earth been divided into equal portions among all its inhabitants, and thus without intending it, without knowing it, advance the interest of the society.’

The first four words in the quotation marks above are the words of the authors, and the following words in italics are from Adam Smith himself.

A more fuller version of this mention (From Smith’s The Theory of Moral Sentiments ) to put it in proper context is as follows:

The proud and unfeeling landlord views his extensive fields, and without a thought for the wants of his brethren, in imagination consumes himself the whole harvest … [Yet] the capacity of his stomach bears no proportion to the immensity of his desires… the rest he will be obliged to distribute among those, who prepare, in the nicest manner, that little which he himself makes use of, among those who fit up the palace in which this little is to be consumed, among those who provide and keep in order all the different baubles and trinkets which are employed in the economy of greatness; all of whom thus derive from his luxury and caprice, that share of the necessaries of life, which they would in vain have expected from his humanity or his justice…The rich only select from the heap what is most precious and agreeable. They consume little more than the poor, and in spite of their natural selfishness and rapacity, though they mean only their own convenience, though the sole end which they propose from the labors of all the thousands whom they employ, be the gratification of their own vain and insatiable desires, they divide with the poor the produce of all their improvements… They are led by an invisible hand to make nearly the same distribution of the necessaries of life, which would have been made, had the earth been divided into equal portions among all its inhabitants, and thus without intending it, without knowing it, advance the interest of the society, and afford means to the multiplication of the species. When Providence divided the earth among a few lordly masters, it neither forgot nor abandoned those who seemed to have been left out in the partition.

To fill out our understanding of Smith’s Invisible Hand for proper context, let’s look at the only other time he mentioned it, in The Wealth of Nations:

[…] every individual necessarily labours to render the annual revenue of the society as great as he can. He generally, indeed, neither intends to promote the public interest, nor knows how much he is promoting it. By preferring the support of domestic to that of foreign industry, he intends only his own security; and by directing that industry in such a manner as its produce may be of the greatest value, he intends only his own gain, and he is in this, as in many other cases, led by an invisible hand to promote an end which was no part of his intention. Nor is it always the worse for the society that it was no part of it. By pursuing his own interest he frequently promotes that of the society more effectually than when he really intends to promote it. I have never known much good done by those who affected to trade for the public good. It is an affectation, indeed, not very common among merchants, and very few words need be employed in dissuading them from it.

Whilst the authors open their pamphlet with an introduction to the Invisible Hand, so as to justify naming their book The Invisible Doctrine, they immediately abandon any further discussion of Adam Smith or any of the related philosophy. John Locke is only mentioned very briefly in the opening, and the utilitarians Mill, Hume, and Mill fils are not mentioned anywhere at all.

Nor is there any genuine effort to try and define what Liberalism is, as a political philosophy which has developed over the past 340 years, or even to outline its values, beyond a few selectively chosen phrases used as cliches. Discussing the merits of promoting individual rights and liberty, as opposed to the appalling alternatives, is beyond the authors.

The remainder of the philosophical exposition of the pamphlet, if you can indeed describe it as a philosophical exposition, is dedicated to misquoting from Hayek and Friedman, whom, whilst valuable for reviving interest in Classical Liberal philosophy amongst economists and politicians, are not themselves particularly original political philosophers – unlike Locke and Smith.

More energy, of course, is devoted to exposing the funding sources and supporters of organisations and think tanks which advocate for policies based on what the authors describe as neoliberal ideas.

The authors argue that the entire purpose of Neoliberalism is to use corporations and the state to enrich an overclass of oligarchs at the expense of the rest of the world.

I am left thinking that the authors have as much understanding of modern finance and capitalism as Karl Marx did (his straw men capitalists with their monopoly of the means of production showed a profound ignorance of the limited liability corporation and its role in economic development).

This impression is exacerbated throughout the book of the phrase ‘Neoliberal International’, as if, like with the revolutionaries and subversive Marxists of the 20th Century with the infamous Communist International, there is some sort of overarching organisation of Neoliberals who plot and scheme for the accumulation of all the wealth in the world. How different is this from the conspiracy theorists who argue about the trilateral commission, the Bilderburg group, or the Illuminati?

Liberalism, particularly in its Classical form, exists, and as a political philosophy, it is beautiful. Neoliberalism, as expressed by disgruntled and discredited former Marxists looking for a straw man to hurl political rocks at, does not.