The signs are promising: more than five hundred pages of text authored by one of the most distinguished economic historians in the United Kingdom. On the other hand, what becomes apparent is that this is a work that will be very long on description and much shorter on analysis, let alone explanation. It is one that seems to be curiously underwhelmed by its own conclusion, namely that a once great economic power has, in some sense, succumbed to mediocrity, if not downfall. As late as page 478 we are, for example, reminded that ‘between 1975 and 2000 total income nearly doubled’; that is national income. If this is the sign of the ‘British nation’ somehow failing, it would be interesting to hear what the author makes of life after the Brexit referendum, unfortunately not covered here, yet currently exerting a strong downward pull on economic growth.

Anti-Brexit march, London, 23 June 2018 (photograph by ilovetheeu via Wikimedia Commons)

What David Edgerton seems to have in mind in terms of his own narrative of decline is less than the perhaps deceptive picture painted by brute statistics, and more the sense of a decline of autonomy or sovereignty implied by the term nation itself. Underpinning the text is a somewhat subtle tale of the elusive quality of British nationhood. As Edgerton recounts, for much of the twentieth century, and of course before, Britain’s self-image was not that of a unitary nation at all, but rather an empire composed of a multitude of peoples and nations, not the least of which were those at the periphery of the United Kingdom itself, namely the Irish, Welsh, and Scottish. Scant reference was ever made in political discourse to the needs and interests of Britain as opposed to the Empire. It was only with the reluctant dismantling of its overseas territories following World War II that Britain had, in a sense, to come to terms with itself.

Yet in Edgerton’s view it has clearly failed to do so for reasons that are at least partly obscure. Frequent reference is made, for example, to the international character of British capitalism, itself of course a legacy of Empire. As he recounts, many of the wealthiest people in Britain owe their fortunes to overseas activities, possessions, and holdings. Should we deduce, therefore, that some of the blame for decline lies at their feet and their reluctance to pump prime entrepreneurial activity in the United Kingdom? It is not quite clear from the text. Or is it that, through embracing globalisation and the free flow of capital, goods, and people, Britain has somehow neglected to invest in itself? Edgerton reserves some of his harshest invective for New Labour, whose agenda, as he rightly points out, was a mere extension of the Thatcherite restructuring of the British economy that in other ways aided the United Kingdom’s revival. The United Kingdom seems, on one reading, to have successfully negotiated the path from ailing post-industrial wasteland to an outward-facing economy with considerable expertise in services, new technologies, and creative industries. Yet all of this is dismissed quickly in Edgerton’s haste to develop the counter narrative, which is that Britain is, in some more profound sense, failing.

The additional mystery is that really none of this has got to do with the British nation, which arguably has adapted quite well in comparison to other former imperial powers. Whatever one thinks of British multiculturalism, Britain has been a rather stable and peaceful society compared to many others. France has a perhaps more productive economy, but its efforts to integrate those from former colonies are much less successful than Britain’s, and threatens, in the medium term, to lead to a radical populist backlash. Italy is mired in high unemployment, social division, and sinking productivity, which helps explain its desperate political situation. Belgium is nigh ungovernable due to the deep social cleavage between the Francophone and Flemish parts of the population.

So what does this notion of a ‘fall’ really signify here? My suspicion is that it is informed by a regret for what Britain might have become, but didn’t. One might venture that it should have become Germany, a country noted for exceptional productivity, an outstanding manufacturing base, and a form of capitalism based around the Mittelstand, or medium-sized and often family-owned business. Is it this sort of comparison that leads Edgerton to his dramatic conclusion?

Edgerton would not be the only commentator who glances enviously at the achievements of Germany since World War II. For example, Will Hutton, a senior commentator on economic matters in the United Kingdom, has written extensively about the failure of British capitalism to invest seriously in native industries, preferring instead the sugar hit of double-digit returns on the stock market combined with investment in far-flung overseas territories with looser regulations and more amenable labour markets. The result, as Hutton sees it, is a denuded industrial base marked by the precariousness of a workforce largely dependent on overseas investment for employment.

David Edgerton

This is not unnoticed by Edgerton, who comments on the paradox of the British motor industry. While the United Kingdom manufactures more vehicles than any other country in Europe, none of the manufacturers is British. Once world leading brands such as Rolls-Royce, Bentley, and Aston Martin, as well as volume manufacturers such as Vauxhall were all sold off long ago to foreign owners. But whereas Hutton offers a clear analysis for offsetting foreign interests by developing a native industrial strategy, Edgerton offers a rather maudlin narrative of national decline that doesn’t quite add up, as the national income figures attest.

This in turn points to a significant lacuna in the text: we’re not sure by the end whether this is a story about a nation enmeshed in structures that disadvantage it in some way or about some form of malign agency. Is the reason for the decline of the British nation the nature of global capitalism, the European Union, or particular trading arrangements? Or is this a failure that can be laid directly at the feet of capitalists however identified, the governing class, political parties, or citizens themselves? Nor, disappointingly, do we gain much sense of where all this is likely to head with or without Brexit. Is this a decline that can be arrested and reversed? Or is Britain doomed to a further downward spiral no matter the outcome of its extraordinary political crisis? The book ends suddenly, solemnly at exactly the point where many a reader will be interested in Edgerton’s perspective as Britain enters a new and potentially chilly world after Brexit.

For this and other reasons, Edgerton’s text is a frustrating read. It’s undeniably a work of monumental scholarship, and deserves recognition on this basis alone. But one can’t help feeling that, with the addition of a plot, some actors, and a satisfactory conclusion, the drama could have been considerably more engrossing than it turns out to be.