Sir Geoff Mulgan photographed at his home in central London for The Telegraph on January 24, 2024. Photo: Heathcliff O'Malley
For hundreds of victims of the Horizon Post Office IT scandal, the newly discovered 1998 memo must be too painful to read.
The then prime minister, Sir Tony Blair, was warned that Horizon was «flawed» and that an «unsatisfactory» deal with Fujitsu's suppliers would leave the government «reliant on a hugely expensive, inflexible, inappropriate and possibly unreliable system». Luckily, Blair went ahead with Horizon anyway, and we all know what happened next.
The man who wrote this note, Sir Geoff Mulgan, is now helping Sir Keir Starmer prepare for government, and the Labor leader would do well to listen to him. Mulgan is concerned that political leaders still have too little control over science and technology and that mistakes like Horizon are still happening around the world.
“I did recommend that it be cancelled,” he says of Horizon, “and then tried to look at some of the lessons that should be learned – there was a gap in the capacity of people in the UK government who understood technology.
“The government is very strong in matters of finance, especially the Treasury, obviously strong in matters such as law, but I was often the only person in the room who had any technical background. And I was definitely not an in-depth expert on projects like Horizon, but even I could see that it was unreliable and could go wrong.
“These were monstrously large projects that did not involve users at all in the design process. Even the management of the post office failed to see the program. Blair, to his credit, at least said: «Of course we need assurance that the technology will work.» He received this assurance from the then Ministry of Trade and Industry. This means that he asked the right question, but did not receive the correct answer from the system.”
Mulgan reacted with “horror” to the Post Office scandal, which unfolded over 20 years, adding: “I think this is a subject where there is a very widespread sense of guilt. Of course, representatives of all political parties have made the wrong decisions at certain moments. The government apparatus must also be held accountable. The civil service got it wrong.
For me, the main thing is not just to restore justice, but also to learn the right lessons. And I'm still not entirely sure that this process is already underway. Because we are more likely to engage in a blame fest rather than a lesson-learning festival. The same applies to the Covid investigation.”
Mulgan, 62, is one of those people who seem to have lived a dozen lives in the time it took the rest of us to live one. In his various incarnations, he has been a Buddhist monk-in-training, a roadie, an encyclopedia salesman, a BBC reporter, a local government official, a writer, a graduate student, a lecturer, a think tank director, a Downing Street adviser and more.
He is currently Professor of Collective Intelligence, Public Policy and Social Innovation at University College London and advises governments around the world as a sort of freelance problem solver. Since he founded the cross-party think tank Demos in 1993, he has been sought for advice by Blair, Sir John Major, Gordon Brown, David Cameron and Boris Johnson.
Mulgan in 1997, when he became head of policy at Downing Street. Photo: FT
In his latest book, When Science Meets Power, Mulgan argues that few policy decisions are made without the involvement of science or technology (think Covid, Horizon, Net Zero, Clean Air) and that few major scientific projects exist in isolation from politics. consequently, there are several large scientific projects. This is the need for each discipline to interact more actively with the other. The alternative, he argues, is that science becomes a “de facto sovereignty of its own,” not governed by politicians who don’t understand it. Scientists are not infallible, of course, and Mulgan worries that there are an estimated 69 laboratories around the world working on potentially deadly viruses and other organisms (one of them in Wuhan) without any global agreement on what they are allowed to do. do, or even without any global agreements on what they are allowed to do. a register of where they are.
He cites this as an example of how science can be “opaque and secretive,” operating in silos that can distort political decision-making. This happened during Covid, he said, when lockdowns were based on the opinions of virus and physical health experts, with little input from the experts into the knock-on effects of incarceration.
“The whole board system and decision-making was unbalanced,” he says. “There was almost no voice in favor of taking mental health into account. There has been little regard for the health system, which has far less voice and status in Whitehall than hospitals. And there was a kind of assumption that people at the top of the Government could weigh all these difficult things.
“But, as the Covid investigation showed, such opportunities simply did not exist. This is one of the reasons why I think there is a decline in the competence of the center of government in Britain.»
This competence will be increasingly tested in the coming years as the economy is transformed by the unstoppable rise of artificial intelligence, and several countries asked Mulgan what to do about it.
“We may well see a dramatic impact of AI on jobs,” he says. “Most jobs are likely to be affected quite significantly. I worry about people being faced with change and not being able to cope with it.”
He tries to find solutions and says that everyone from a 15-year-old thinking about choosing a course to a 50-year-old Longtime workers in a declining industry should have easy access to advice about what other jobs might be growing and what skills they'll need.
“Now we have small pieces of it, but nothing even remotely systematic. That's why most people are terrified. I do activities with kids in high schools about future jobs and they are not told at all about the reality of their life choices.
“Governments may also have to provide a right to work. I think all sorts of things that are now politically unthinkable may become necessary.” Mulgan insists that «there's not much I can say» about his current work with the Labor Party, but acknowledges the fact that: «The Labor Party is struggling with imagination, with a 10, 20 year vision. I think part of it has to do with the feeling that the public now wants a bit of boring, quiet competence.»
Sir Geoff Mulgan: “One of our systemic weaknesses is that – unlike other countries – too few of our politicians learn from being mayors or governing”; Photo: Heathcliff O'Malley
He is concerned that the political class has turned its back on long-term strategy over the last decade or so, and hopes that if Starmer — or Rishi Sunak for that matter — wins the election, he will «reset» and tell the public that there are a number of 20- to 30-year targets, such as improving social security: “What needs to be done, and all of this will be difficult, but not impossible. And at the end of the day, you know, our country can be a much better place. But I think he's clearly nervous to put it in those terms… concerned that too much planning for the government could ruin their chances and that's tempting fate.»
London-born Mulgan divides his time between the capital, where he lives in a two-storey flat with his second wife, and Luton, where his children from his first marriage live.
“I find it. It’s very helpful to give me a point of view that is different from the metropolitan elite,” he says.
In the mid-1980s he gained further useful insight into the gap between Westminster and the rest of the country as director of Red Wedge, a left-wing collective of musicians and comedians that toured the country banging drums for Labour. He also drove their tour bus, where he met the likes of Billy Bragg, Paul Weller and Jimmy Somerville.
“We played to huge, enthusiastic audiences all over the country, thinking everything was going wonderfully. » he says. «And of course it had no effect on the outcome of the 1987 election. So it was a very useful political entity.
“They held events in every town, usually with local Labor MPs party. And all the members of Parliament will be mostly men between 50 and 60 years of age in suits. And they were completely unable to communicate with these young people who came to meet Billy Bragg. I don't think it will be any different today.» /p> Geoff Mulgan in 2002 Photo: Alex McNaughton/Shutterstock < p>He would like to see Parliament modernized — it might be a job for Starmer if he comes to power. “Our basic forms of democracy essentially date back to the 19th or even 18th century,” he says. “An election every few years sends a group of people into a building in the capital where they make laws.
“Even though every other area of life, from shopping to relationships to travel, has been disrupted by technology, democracy has remained largely untouched. This leads to decreased trust in democracy, and this is where we probably really need a crisis to change things.”
He cites Taiwan and Estonia as examples of how to do things differently, where the public can participate in policy development by making suggestions and openly offering their expertise.
One of the reasons why politicians strive for it. Advice, of course, because Mulgan has much more life experience than them. Before taking a PPE from Balliol College, Oxford (where Johnson followed him a few years later), he spent several months living in a Buddhist monastery in Sri Lanka, after a chance meeting with Nyanaponika Thera, «one of the greatest thinkers of modern Buddhism «, according to Mulgan.
After university he worked for Ken Livingstone's Greater London Council, which he describes as «weird, chaotic and exciting» until it was abolished by Margaret Thatcher.
«I guess I was very lucky that it was abolished , he admits, “because I then went to MIT, where at that time a lot of people were essentially inventing the Internet.” He studied technology and «became absolutely convinced that the world would change thanks to digital technology.»
He took a job as a BBC radio and television reporter, worked as an adviser to Brown and then took up the tenth position as Blair's policy director, enduring a huge number of distractions along the way.
In contrast to his remarkably circuitous path to the present, “our politicians tend to go straight to Westminster,” he complains, “which means that in all parties people are not very well prepared for the realities of power.
“One of our systemic weaknesses is that, unlike other countries, too few of our politicians learn from being mayors or governing. We do not have proper training for politicians. This is the only serious role that requires virtually no preparation. China does this — ministers and governors sit at home for two weeks a year, ours do nothing. And you see them floundering all the time. I would like to see a much more systematic preparation for opposition, but that is not the British tradition.”
With Starmer on a seemingly insurmountable path to power, he may need all the help Mulgan can give him.
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