Chapter 3 tackles a gendered interpretation of ‘modernisation’, which never became widespread but had a discernible influence on both the left’s intellectual scene and Labour’s development. In the 1970s, while feminism was making a mark on the labour movement, its proponents did not claim that their demands would ‘modernise’ the party. Over the 1980s and 1990s, this began to change. Prominent and closely networked feminists in the socialist media and think tank scene suggested that the ‘modern economy’ was increasingly reliant on paid female labour and that family models were pluralising in ‘modern society’. These arguments were taken up by influential Labour politicians, especially Patricia Hewitt and Harriet Harman. They used them to argue that a crucial aspect of Labour’s ‘modernisation’ must be policies for gender equality. Their arguments never became central to New Labour. However, they did shape the New Labour project as it emerged in the 1990s, and thus some of its policies. Perhaps more importantly, the ‘modernisation’ element of these arguments may have unintentionally diluted the case for a more disruptive gender politics.

Chapter 5 traces the rise of arguments for ‘modernising the constitution’. While the 1970s left repeatedly engaged in British constitutional debates, their arguments were rarely conceived in terms of modernisation. However, the challenge of Thatcher’s rule, along Scottish nationalism, perceptions of sociological change, European integration, and geopolitical developments led to the ascendancy of new constitutional reforms (such as a bill of rights and devolution) in agendas for ‘modern socialism’. A pivotal development was the creation of the campaign group Charter 88; also important was the spreading New Left argument that European continental structures were more ‘modern’ than the ‘Westminster Model’. The political strength of constitutional modernisation arguments peaked in the early 1990s, under the leadership of John Smith and with public support from rising stars Blair and Brown. Momentum for reform later stalled under Blair. Nevertheless, Scottish and Welsh devolution and a Human Rights Act were locked into Labour’s platform by 1997, facilitating one of the most disruptive periods of British constitutional change in the contemporary era.

Chapter 6 traces the meaning of ‘modernisation’ in Labour’s economic policies. ‘Modernising the economy’ to achieve sustainable growth was a consistently crucial idea for Labour from Wilson to Blair. Notwithstanding the abandonment of nationalisation, the endurance of state-led ‘modernisation’ in Labour’s economic imaginary reveals a continuing strategic role for the state, even for New Labour. After establishing this continuity, the chapter highlights a crucial change. In the 1970s and 1980s, Labour policymakers assumed that manufacturing was the key sector to ‘modernise’. Yet, under the influence of deindustrialisation, ideas of ‘post-Fordism’, and New Keynesianism, by the early 2000s manufacturing had been usurped by ‘human capital’. For New Labour, education and training became the new ‘commanding heights’ and the foremost economic priority for the active state. These developments show the ongoing influence of technocratic, social-democratic thought worlds, and thus expose the inappropriateness of shoehorning New Labour into ‘Thatcherism’ and ‘neoliberalism’. But they also speak to important, and ambivalent, shifts in British political economy by the twenty-first century.

The conclusion considers the wider significance of the book’s arguments. The concept of ‘modernisation’ was a potent resource for projects for social-democratic renewal over the late twentieth century. Many had the potential to become defining influences on a Labour government – even if, at turning points in the early 1980s, the late 1980s and the early 1990s, they lost out due to a combination of social and economic, intellectual, institutional, and political forces. This means that the rise of New Labour was not inevitable and that its opponents were not straightforwardly ‘traditionalist’. It also means, however, that New Labour’s leaders drew heavily from the left when forging their own agenda, including policies and institutions that endure today. This has implications for the histories of Britain after the 1970s: the rise of neoliberalism, though important, should not obscure other pivotal forces, especially deindustrialisation, constitutional agitation, and popular individualism. The conclusion ends by using this history to suggest that ‘modernisation’ is an idea that is unusually prominent in the tradition of social democracy.

Chapter 2 recovers a distinct interpretation of ‘modern socialism’ that focused on diffusing power to producers, consumers, and communities. Over the 1970s and 1980s, several left-wing thinkers and politicians championed redistributing economic and social power through industrial democracy or consumer and community empowerment. These explorations were fuelled by critiques of the post-war state, trade union assertiveness, corporatist experiments, municipal socialism, and market socialism. In the 1980s, they were championed as ‘modern socialism’, mainly as a response to Margaret Thatcher’s flagship policies like popular share ownership and the ‘right to buy’ a council house. Drawing on maverick academics and Eurocommunist journalists, ambitious Labour MPs argued that a ‘modern socialism’ needed to diffuse power through schemes like employee share ownerships. They embraced socioeconomic democracy as ‘modernisation’. However, while some decentralist ideas remained influential, the popularity of diffusing economic power peaked in the late 1980s. This helped scotch subsequent attempts to make the ‘stakeholding economy’ a foundation of New Labour’s ‘modernisation’.

This chapter explores how ‘globalisation’ became a common frame of reference about the ‘modern world’ and the rise and fall of both nationalist and pan-European socialist responses. It is widely recognised that the ‘discourse of globalisation’ was a lynchpin of New Labour’s ‘modernisation’, and some scholars also argue that it drove the party’s capitulation to ‘Thatcherism’. However, this chapter reconstructs an overlooked source of the idea of globalisation in Labour: the Alternative Economic Strategy (AES), which underpinned the 1983 manifesto. It traces how, from the 1970s, Labour policymakers diagnosed a powerful new force – ‘multinational’ production and finance – which placed novel constraints on the socialist state. Over the 1980s, these policymakers went from attempting to reassert the British state’s sovereignty to trying to transcend it through European integration. The AES collapsed after the 1983 electoral catastrophe, while Eurosocialism failed to decisively shape Labour. Yet, these ideas show that the spreading idea of ‘globalisation’ as an unavoidable feature of modernity had many parents in Labour and originated from the party’s left as well as its right.

The introduction begins by demonstrating the importance of ‘modernisation’ for left-wing debates in the second half of the twentieth century. After recapping the key staging posts of Labour’s trajectory from the 1970s to the 1990s, it then argues that existing histories obscure the diverse meanings and appeal of ‘modernisation’ through their current use of the term. I suggest that this hinders our understanding of both New Labour and many of their left-wing critics, and too readily accepts a teleological reading of history. Following a brief discussion of the method of the book, the introduction touches on the wider historical significance of this revised understanding of Labour’s ideological debates. It questions the idea of an ‘age of neoliberalism’ and introduces other themes of the late twentieth century of comparable significance to market liberalism: the challenge to the nation state from above and below; the rise of post-1968 ‘liberation movements’; deindustrialisation; and constitutional agitation. It ends by outlining the chapters.

Chapter 4 explores a more marginalised interpretation of modernisation, which foregrounded race and multiculturalism. Throughout the late twentieth century, the left wrestled with a growingly multiracial society and the rise of both the far right and a more self-confident anti-racist movement in post-colonial Britain. This profoundly shaped the Labour Party, which this chapter illustrates by exploring the 1980s ‘Black Sections’ controversy. Yet, there were only scattered arguments that linked either antiracism or multiculturalism to ‘modernisation’. This chapter explores some isolated explorations of antiracism as modernisation, notably by Ken Livingstone, and explains their intellectual context. However, it also explains why they stalled, stressing institutional and electoral factors, but also the growing discomfort among anti-racist movements with concepts like modernisation. Thus, ‘modernisation’ only became consistently linked with ‘multiculturalism’ in the 2000s, and even then, this association was hotly contested. The implications for Blair’s governments of this absence of race and multiculturalism in 1990s discourses of modernisation are explored at the end of the chapter.

No western country experienced as protracted a debate on contraception as Ireland. The longstanding ban on contraception has commonly been seen as the consequence of Catholic church teaching and the near-universal religious observance by Irish Catholics. But the Irish debate went far beyond Catholic teaching. The merits of large families and the laws banning contraception (as well as prohibition of divorce and abortion) came to be seen as a symbol of Ireland’s national identity; the Irish approach to contraception was intimately bound up with ideas of Irishness. The logic of opposition to the use of contraception shifted over the decades. Initially, the belief that ‘artificial’ contraception was contrary to the teaching of the Catholic church was the engine that drove state policy and broader opposition. By the 1970s this argument was being abandoned, in favour of claims that permitting contraception would destroy the fabric of the family and society. The battle to protect Irish society from the “menace” of contraception, abortion and divorce continued into the present century in the face of falling fertility, many single mothers, and a significant abortion trail to Britain.

This chapter examines African peasant tobacco production in Southern Rhodesia from 1900 to 1980, from the cusp of colonialism to its end. It analyses shifting state policy towards African tobacco producers, the concomitant impact on peasant economies, accumulation patterns and the rural physical landscape and peasant responses. It focusses on the changing agricultural commodity value chains, cash crop asymmetries and global market forces to explain colonial responses to peasant production and peasant agency. The chapter argues that the symbolic value of each agricultural commodity, in entrenching the hierarchy of power relations and the institutionalisation of white control, mediated colonial responses to peasant production and concomitantly ‘peasant agency’. Furthermore, the chapter highlights the structural constraints on ‘agency’ and explores how cash crop asymmetries helped structure agrarian encounters and power relations in colonial Africa.

This scene-setting chapter charts out the challenges Europe’s monarchies had to face in the wake of the French Revolution and the key means they employed to achieve their survival – among them an alliance with nationalism and imperialism, constitutional development and public relations techniques. It also introduces royal heirs as individual agents – and the process of succession more widely – as an essential part of this political arsenal. The chapter concludes with a discussion of the main contexts within which the lives and functions of a nineteenth-century heir had to unfold: the constitution, the royal family, the public sphere and the court.

This chapter assesses the importance of educating royal heirs in the nineteenth century. It traces the development of ideas of princely education and explains how this topic moved from being an internal, dynastic matter to being a political issue of public concern and public debate – another weapon in the arsenal of monarchical adaptation and self-defence. The chapter leads to a comparison between the educational programmes imposed upon the several generations of royal heirs in nineteenth-century Britain and Prussia/Germany.

When Marvel Studios released its superhero film Black Panther in 2018, kids across the continent of Africa began to salute one another Wakanda-style. They crossed their arms (in a gesture like the pharaohs of ancient Egypt, who were laid to rest with their arms on their chests) and would end the greeting with the words ‘Wakanda forever’.

Wakanda, of course, is a fictional country. It was created, so the story goes, when a massive meteorite made up of an equally fictional metal, vibranium, crashed into a location somewhere in East Africa. Understanding the value of vibranium, the leaders of Wakanda concealed this rare and valuable energy-giving resource. Many of the best scholars of Wakanda were sent to study abroad and, on their return, their work turned Wakanda into one of the world’s most technologically advanced countries. Although Wakanda appears from the outside to be a poor, developing country, it is actually prosperous beyond belief.

This chapter examines the unprecedented era of urban rebuilding which took off in the late 1950s and lasted into the 1970s, in which enthusiasm for ‘comprehensive’ town centre redevelopment and modernist urban renewal was at its peak. This was the era when shopping malls were imported from the United States and planted at the centre of British towns and cities, and these developments rested upon an unusual alignment between the modernist planning ideals of urban professionals, the developmental agendas of local authorities and the commercial strategies of a handful of development companies. I stress how important the rhetoric of modernisation was in uniting these different interests, but also how loosely and variably notions of ‘the modern’ were defined and applied. I also highlight the importance of the technocratic enthusiasms of the age, particularly in the early 1960s, when the idea of engineering efficient urban environments came to the fore. Planners, policymakers and property developers adopted a deeply Taylorist, mechanistic idea of urban renewal, in which prosperity, efficiency and growth would be precisely engineered while ‘obsolescence’ would be excised from the modern city with surgical precision. For urban authorities facing darkening economic prospects, these were seductive ideas, and viewed as a means to combat the onset of deindustrialisation.

Chapter 1 reveals the complexity and self-consciousness of Romantic nature writing, bringing together authors who share an interest in nonhuman nature as a dynamic process. It also addresses the porousness of Romantic nature writing as a mode of engagement across different kinds of texts. A key claim is that, while Gilbert White’s localism and close field observations were influential on later nature writing, so was the strand of confessional autobiography pioneered by Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Romantic nature writing is often represented as a self-aggrandising masculine mode. But women writers such as Dorothy Wordsworth and Charlotte Smith were significant, particularly in their portrayals of nonhuman nature as entangled with everyday human life. The chapter also addresses labouring-class writers, bringing John Clare’s natural history prose into dialogue with the work of the artist Thomas Bewick and the novelist and poet James Hogg. All three resisted and lamented the forces of modernisation, but did so through developing innovative modes of representation. Even at its most backward-looking, Romantic nature writing engaged with the contradictions and conflicts of modernity. And, while influenced by natural theology, it also dared to speculate about deep time and the transience of human species.

This chapter examines the emergence of modern Sikh nationalism against the background of colonial modernisation of the Punjab’s economy from the last quarter of the nineteenth century. It reviews the competitive social mobilisation that led to religious reform movements among Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs. It examines the role of the Singh Sabhas in the late nineteenth century that were at the forefront of the religious renaissance among the Sikhs, shaping a distinct non-Hindu identity which culminated with the Akali movement in the early 1920s and the Sikh Gurdwaras Act (1925). It then reviews the cultural expressions of this new consciousness in the growth of the Punjabi press, Punjabi language, literature and material culture. This is followed by an outline of the dominant narratives of Sikh politics during colonial democratisation that ended with the Government of India Act (1935) and its immediate aftermath before the outbreak of the Second World War. The conclusion summarises the internal cleavages within Sikh society dating from this period that underlay the overarching sense of Sikh identity and continue to provide competing conceptions of Sikh identity and the nationalist ideal.