Going it Alone

CAPITAL OF CULTURE? IT’S JUST THE START! DISCOVER WHY INDEPENDENCE FOR LIVERPOOL SHOULD BE NEXT ON THE AGENDA

Go on, you’re having a laugh. Independence for Liverpool? The Democratic Republic of Merseyside? As if! Take that tongue out of your cheek and get back in the real world. This Capital of Culture thing’s gone to your head.

I can hear the reactions already. But bear with me. I’ve never been more serious in my life.

Right now, at the start of our much trumpeted Euro Cultural extravaganza, one must say how nice it is to have some overdue appreciation of the positive attributes of our fair city. But note the prefix to the Capital of Culture title. European Capital of Culture. It’s highly appropriate.

Until their compliance in this award, the English establishment had been nothing if not diligent in its studied ignorance of the city. And by establishment I mean the term in its widest sense - elected bodies, central government departments, quango’s, corporate boards – you name them, we’ve been blanked by them. Indeed, if you look at the latest web site of the UK met office, the city does not exist at all! 500,000 people have disappeared overnight! (Don’t believe me? Check it out yourself – www.met-office.gov.uk)
The efforts of the odd Michael Heseltine notwithstanding, our long decline from the eminence of Empire went unchecked until Objective One. Our current economic revival – such as it is - has only been kick-started by EU funding. Even there, Iron Chancellor Brown wanted to get his grubby paws on it, presumably to redirect it to something more worthwhile such as an illegal war in the Middle East.

Say it loud. We’re black and proud

Remember that brilliant movie The Commitments? The bit where the Irish were described as ‘The Blacks of Europe? No racism intended, but Merseysiders are often regarded like that. The country treats us with either indifference or outright contempt. Except when the football is on, when we’re suddenly English, and national treasures to boot. It’s a bit like the way the USA used to consider its ‘Negroes’ – ‘our boys’ when they ‘re on the Olympic podium, somewhat less so in the queue at the local diner.

Of course, there are counter arguments, usually running along the line of ‘they’re paranoid, they’re imagining it, it’s all their own fault, whingeing scousers, strike-happy, work shy bastards’ and other such gems of balanced, joined-up thinking. Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ve neither space nor inclination to deal with this stuff here, it’s been done before and better anyway.

In truth, though, even the rest of the North does not seem to like us very much. Maybe the real issue is that we’re not quite English. We’re different. Hybrids. Part English, but just as much Irish. And no small part Welsh. Not to mention a smattering of Norwegian, a soupcon of Nigerian and a pinch of practically everywhere else around the globe. It means we have some weaknesses others don’t have. An alarming tendency to never tug the forelock. A marked aversion to ‘Yes sir, no sir, three bags full Mr. Arkwright, sir’. A penchant for making a joke out of everything, often sailing over more heads than Graf Zeppelin. Plus, of course, a nasal twang that’s not to everyone’s taste, and bears about as much resemblance to the usual northern ‘woollyback’ speak as Anne Widdecombe does to Ann Margaret.

Yet putting these issues to one side, ask yourself, what does the Westminster government do for us? Indeed, for any provincial centre with aspirations, from Birmingham to Bradford? About two per cent of what they should be doing, that’s what. And about 1,000th of what it does for our wonderful capital city.

Let’s hear it for Londonland

The Independent’ newspaper recently hailed London as the cultural and economic powerhouse of the entire world. Apparently, by comparison with our mighty metropolis it’s now more a case of The Little Apple and Grim Paree. From Boris Johnson to Rod Liddle, the great and the good were wheeled out in some great London LoveFest.

And what of us provincial Plebs? We should rejoice, of course, as our erstwhile PM once famously declared. It’s great news for everybody. Presumably, the thinking here is based on the trickle down theory. If the master’s table is packed with a better class of victual, the dogs who feed off the crumbs he sweeps onto the floor will benefit too. How apt.

On reflection, maybe we should all try to get in on the act, and rename the entire country ‘Londonland’. Might as well. It seems we hardly exist anyway.

In truth, London’s triumphs are tragedies for the rest of us. They’re almost entirely at the expense of cities like Liverpool. One place takes a grotesquely disproportionate slice of our national cake and spends it all on themselves - in our name! All the investment, all the focus, all the jobs, all the power, all the talent, all the culture, all the dosh. Nice.

And if we complain, we’re just jealous. After all, we can always come down and look at the galleries, can’t we? They are national. Just the 250 odd miles of wall-to-wall traffic to negotiate, or £300 a pop on our highly efficient railway network. (By the way, you didn’t really want that silly tram thing, did you? You wouldn’t believe the mess it would have made!)

If you’re looking for an analogy, consider a family with, say, eight children. They’re all sat expectantly round the table for dinner, waiting for mum to come and dish up the grub. Yet when she does, the big, fat, overbearing kid at the head of the table gets five times as much as anybody else. And not just the food. Think the Dursleys in Harry Potter and you won’t be far off.

Except we’ve no magic wand to get us out of there. Or have we?

The Irish Eyes have it

So what are the alternatives? Here are some starters for ten:

1. Secede from the Union, and create an independent city state within the EU, a la medieval Venice or Florence. My favoured route. Look what it’s done for Ireland – from Banana Republic without the sunshine to Celtic Tiger in a generation.
2. Go back to our roots and join the Irish Republic ourselves. For the justification, see above. It would get rid of the Queen, if nothing else. They like us a bit more than the English, too. With folk heroes with names like Gerrard, Rooney and Carragher it’s hardly surprising, really.
3. Cosy up to Welsh. Makes geographic sense if nothing else, and the colonisation process is well under way already. Of course, this would necessitate the break-up of the UK first, but we need not cry too much over that. Things are going that way anyway. Plus it would keep all the Evertonians happy.

Of course, by Liverpool I mean not just the city itself but Greater Liverpool, otherwise known as Merseyside. None of your absurd Wirralian parochialism here, please.

And the benefits? They’d be legion. With a following wind and a bit more EU dosh behind us, we’d be facing a future a damn sight more inspiring than the one we’re looking at right now.

For a start, we could rediscover our identity, and show ourselves in our best light, rather than the negative spin we always seem to get from the London or Manchester-based media. We could create jobs, in both private and public sector - not necessarily more government, but government with teeth. We could offer tax concessions like the Freeport on a much bigger scale, and become a kind of mainland Isle of Man. This city was built on trade – so let’s have some again, it would be nice. We might also attract a dynamic new breed of Merseysider, and recover the social mix we’ve largely lost. What’s more, we could carry on the good work of Capital of Culture and become the real cultural powerhouse we aspire to.

All in all, Brussels may prove a more appealing mistress than London ever was. There are smaller countries in Europe than Merseyside, who seem to be doing just fine. And if Andorra can give England a game at football, just think what an ‘Independent Merseyside X1’ would do.

Viva la revolution!

First published in magazine issue - January 08