Hate And Fear 

You already know many of the Emperor Caligula’s greatest hits. There was making his horse Consul (he didn’t, but it was thought he might). There was the incest with his sisters (no real evidence for this and it was far from unknown in the ancient world – Cleopatra’s parents were almost certainly closely related, possibly siblings). There was the war declared on the sea (again, it’s not entirely clear this ever happened).

One thing he definitely did do, however, was adopt the motto “oderint dum metuant” – let them hate me so long as they fear me.

Pithy, certainly. A good general principle for a ruler? Not really. He was only Emperor for 4 years before the Praetorian Guard decided to off him, starting what would become, over the following centuries, a bit of a habit.

It was perhaps because of this that, when Machiavelli turned his mordant pen to the question of what emotions The Prince should seek to encourage, he decided that love was good, fear was better, but hatred was to be avoided at all costs. Caligula had treated those who could hurt him so badly that they felt compelled to strike back.

That a government might inspire hatred, but not fear, seems not to have crossed his mind. It would have seemed such an obviously poor idea that no-one would adopt it as a governing principle.

Hold my beer, cries the Labour Party.

None of Keir Starmer’s policies have, yet, matched the insanity of Caligula’s (real and imagined) but there have, to be honest, been no small number of initiatives which have annoyed a large number of people. There was, as you may remember, the attempt to take the Winter Fuel Allowance away from millions of pensioners. There was, you may remember, the changes to inheritance tax for farms. There is, as you may be aware, a proposed change to the rates paid by pubs.

Pensioners put down their Werther’s Originals and took up their pens, bombarding MPs with sob stories and reminiscences about the War. Farmers decided to take their tractors for a spin through the country’s major cities. Pub owners have barred Labour MPs from their premises (less of an issue these days with a political class more likely to drink green juice than brown ale), and have threatened to go on strike (can you actually go on strike if you own the business?).

In response to the discontent, the government has displayed an ability to retreat hitherto only associated with the Italian Army. The Winter Fuel Allowance was re-instated for most pensioners. The changes to inheritance tax were themselves changed. There are now stories in the press that a package for pub-owners will be unveiled shortly.

If the government is able to respond to the popular will, it is only at the speed of a dinosaur finally understanding that something stood on its tail an hour ago. A policy is announced, a policy is defended over and over and it is only after much time and heartache that a policy is ditched. Time during which the aggrieved sector of society is, effectively, told to “suck it up, snowflake”. Time during which that sector is left to stew with the notion that the government has it in for it. Time during which it is left to mull the financial hit it is about to take.

And then the blessed day arrives when the government sees sense and folds. It doesn’t fold, of course, it merely “responds to feedback”. Or changes policy to” reflect consultations”. But whatever linguistic sleight of hand is used, the effect is the same. It gives in and something similar to the status quo ante is restored.

And thus, instead of a return to the old way of sensible government by sensible people, the current administration is trying something truly radical. It is stirring up hatred in numerous sectors of society, but it is not generating any fear. Its continual retreats show any group under its cosh that, push back hard enough, and it will retreat. There may be some unpleasant days. There may be some sleepless nights, but make enough fuss, and nothing will actually change.

Not that Labour gets any credit, of course – there is no joy in Britain over a government that repenteth. People remember the feelings they had when the authorities insisted they would have to suffer. They remember the fear over what they would lose. And when those fears turn out to be baseless, when the money that was to be raised turns out no longer to need to be raised, they do not feel gratitude for the relief, they think the earlier “harsh but fair” sound fiscal management was nothing more than cruelty. A punishment beating meted out by an uncaring power.

There is no Cassius Chaerea waiting to run Keir Starmer through with his sword. We’ve never really done that sort of thing here. But there are the polls. And their message is clear. The Labour Party’s own praetorian guard may decide to take matters into its own hands, but changing the Emperor won’t make much difference unless the way the Empire is run changes too. There just aren’t that many votes in the “unpleasant/weak” quadrant of the political compass.

The Roman poet Lucretius wrote about the comfort of standing on the shore watching someone drown in a storm (it’s not quite as bad as it sounds). It is easy to sit back, chuckle at the government’s missteps and have a bet on whether there will be enough Labour MPs in 2029 to form a football team. But if the government can’t stop giving more money away and it can’t take more money in, how does it stay solvent? Some people hate the bond market too. But everyone fears it…

Stewart Slater works in Finance. He is now also on Substack, where you are welcome to follow him.

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