The British arms industry is advertising its vulnerability
The message shot into the minds of our MPs and their advisers is a brutal one. The British economy relies on the manufacture of armaments. And all politics is a four letter word: jobs. “You take us on” they are saying “and you will lose your seat”. In a sense, of course, this is true. Arms are a major industry in Britain, employing around 300,000 people. (NB - This figure has been questioned in a comment that places it closer to 200,000).
In 2012, the exports from what is euphemistically called the 'defence' industry increased by 62%. In an otherwise stagnant economy, these figures are hard for politicians to argue with. But of course it's more complex than that. The best estimate of subsidies to these companies from the British government in 2009/10 is £698.9 million, including the £562.4m of support for research and £75.4m for underwriting loans for their exports. 'Official visits' cost £5m that year though since then, David Cameron has seemed particularly willing to act as travelling salesmen. And of course, there's the £15.8m Defence & Security Organisation, sitting in Vince Cable's department, co-ordinating taxpayer support for the industry. If we invested that much public money in most industries, they would likewise likely thrive.
In 2012, the exports from what is euphemistically called the 'defence' industry increased by 62%. In an otherwise stagnant economy, these figures are hard for politicians to argue with. But of course it's more complex than that. The best estimate of subsidies to these companies from the British government in 2009/10 is £698.9 million, including the £562.4m of support for research and £75.4m for underwriting loans for their exports. 'Official visits' cost £5m that year though since then, David Cameron has seemed particularly willing to act as travelling salesmen. And of course, there's the £15.8m Defence & Security Organisation, sitting in Vince Cable's department, co-ordinating taxpayer support for the industry. If we invested that much public money in most industries, they would likewise likely thrive.
Westminster tube station is a commuter's cathedral. The ride down the stacks of escalators from the ticket barrier to the Jubilee line platform is my favourite journey in London. But the smile inspired by this sublime chasm of modernist mega-sculpture is always sullied by a piece of brutal vandalism.
Just as you place a foot onto the first descending metal step, you are confronted by a banner of propaganda. The specific image varies. The exact wording isn't always the same. But the colours never change: red, white, blue. And the company is consistent: BAE systems.
Westminster tube station is home to some of the most expensive poster advertisements on the underground. And the biggest slots, every time I have passed through, have been filled with the same basic message: the armament industry is key to the British economy. When I last made the trip, there was only one difference. At the bottom of the wonderful journey into the void, I found Lockhead Martin had contributed, with a solitary poster, to the regiment of militaristic propaganda.
Advertisements are sign posts and windows. They at once point to a vulnerability in their desired audience and allow us to glimpse the fears of their creators. They tell us what the advertiser is most desperate will be heard, those things that the audience needs to be persuaded of, and how we can be convinced. Coke wouldn't be “the real thing” if they didn't fear Pepsi, if you could tell the difference, or if we didn't cling to authenticity in a fast changing world.
The reason to be interested in the advertising found on the hoardings beneath Portcullis House is obvious. It is the final gathering place of many of the most powerful people in the country before they retreat into a building in which paying for access to their minds is slightly more tricky, slightly less legal.
There was, in 2007, an exhibition at the Tate Britain of replicas of the posters Brian Haw displayed in Parliament Square. It won the Turner Prize. Haw himself was voted the most inspiring political figure at the Channel 4 awards the same year. These tributes marked the fact that his ten year protest opposite the House of Commons was an anomaly. His permanent presence beside one of humanity's greatest symbols of imperial power was a rare call for peace, so rare it was worth talking about, so rare he was worth legislating for. But Brian Haw is dead. His comrades have left the square, and the Tate's display is long since over... read more:
