Reflections on Danny Kruger’s book ‘Covenant’

Some time ago, I found myself reading Tom Holland’s masterpiece Dominion in which he lays out a comprehensive and compelling case that Western culture is permeated with distinctly Christian beliefs and assumptions.

Whether it is the assumption that the strong should care for the weak, or the conviction that all people - irrespective of strength, race, sex, intelligence or wealth - are worthy of equal dignity, our culture is saturated in Christian ideas, even to the point at which they have become invisible to our perceptions. They are the air we breathe - the water we swim in.

Ultimately, Holland argues, the pre-conditions for stable Western society - are derived from the example of Christ, and the calling for his followers to imitate him in our own behaviour.

From the first few pages of Danny Kruger’s recent book, it’s clear that he shares this fundamental conviction. ‘Covenant: The New Politics of Home, Neighbourhood and Nation’ is, first and foremost, an elucidation of the implications of those set of observations within the sphere of public policy. In particular, it is a characterisation of the way in which the United Kingdom, and Western society more generally, has become unmoored from its historical and religious grounding, and has adopted a set of beliefs which are in tension with Christian beliefs and therefore with classically Western values; and a proposal for how to re-capture those historical ideals.

Kruger, Conservative MP for Devizes, uses the term ‘normative’ as a noun to describe this. He states that:

A normative is a belief about reality, and an action in response. We believe things fall through the air, and therefore we are careful near clifftops.

To frame the primary argument of his book, Kruger introduces the concepts of the ‘Order’ and the ‘Idea’. To start with where we are, he suggests we have embraced the ‘Idea’, which is:

The belief that people are infallible, moral creators, and that therefore the job of government is to facilitate their independence.

He very honestly reflects on his own political Party as being one which essentially no longer is conservative in the classical sense, but has rather embraced a kind of politics which combines heartless free-market individualism with an unthinking social liberalism, or else simple authoritarian populism. He suggests modern conservatism offers little to those whose sense of meaning is securely rooted in their families, communities and country.

Rather, the normative we need to re-embrace according to Kruger, is - to my eyes - distinctly Christian:

The belief that people are dependent, fallible creatures, subject to a moral order, and yet capable of great goodness and achievement

Although not explicit, anyone who is familiar with the Christian message will instantly recognise that as a distinctly Biblical set of assumptions. When it comes to our own individual response, the Christian message prompts us to personal confession, repentance and trust in Jesus for forgiveness. But apply those assumptions to public policy, and the implication is there in Kruger’s own words:

Therefore action is required to strengthen the institutions that mitigate our weakness and help us realise our potential.

He argues that we need to restore the sources of human virtue and belonging, to enable us to re-capture the good life, and to re-embrace the ‘Order’: what in reality is, but is never labelled as such, God’s order for human flourishing.

Sex and death

The rest of the book is a reflection on what many of these institutions and sources of virtue actually are. Chiefly, marriage is highlighted as “the foundational social covenant”, designed to be the safe space for sexual intimacy and the best foundation for strong family life. In terms of his discussion of related public policy, his suggestion that tax should be evaluated on the basis of household income rather than individual income. This is entirely valid and lavishly welcome, however he does little to acknowledge the damage that the Conservatives have done to marriage, most notably by introducing no-fault divorce laws. If this ‘life-long’, no ifs, no buts covenant can be validly broken without either party having transgressed the other, what does marriage become? I thank God that our marriage is exceedingly more than what the state says it is.

In his discussion of the Idea, Kruger laments that our self-perception has become a more fundamental source of our identity than our ‘givenness’ (a word not used by Kruger, but which captures my understanding of where the ‘Order’ derives our identify from), that is to say - in this instance - our sex. He issues a timely riposte to the radical transgender ideologues who are seeking to re-define the fundamental vocabulary of ‘man’ and ‘woman’ on the basis of our self-perceived gender identity, and he kindly, but decisively, does so in terms that are not contingent upon his Christian assumptions.

However, despite being happy to reflect on the sensitive matters of life and death, most notably the matter of euthanasia - again, described in powerful and compelling terms - he manages to sidestep the subject of abortion which, in many ways, is an equivalent topic of debate which can be critiqued in similar terms. It can be appreciated that one might seek to pick ones battles carefully. However, the full strength of an argument can only be fully appreciated when its implications are properly worked through.

How, for example, would a society which appreciated the equality of all human life, including that of the unborn, also treasure, honour and support the mother who might give birth to a child under especially onerous circumstances? Is it not conceivable that such a world could, if we abandoned the idea that such mothers and babies are not within the realm of our collective social responsibility, demonstrate far more compassion towards mothers than leaving them with no more feasible choice than to end the life of their child? Kruger seems unwilling to instigate a discussion of that nature, despite it strongly resonating with the moral assumptions he has already set out.

Family (oikos)

Later in the book, the greek term Oikos, meaning household, is identified as referring to the place where family life, education and economic activity come together. It is precisely the kind of home which has been done away with over the last two centuries. His diagnosis of the problem as being particularly caused by the demands and implications of the industrial revolution provides a compelling explanation.

As we embrace an economy increasingly dependent on AI, Kruger identifies the ‘virtuous vocations’ of creativity (in particular, roles involving the creation of meaning) and care, as those which should be reserved for humans. But his primary proposal to foster this revolves around the prioritisation of training places, professional qualifications and tax breaks for businesses involved in these sectors.

As laudable as the ambition might be, my concern is that these suggestions would do nothing to alter the economic inventive to automate the creative acts these workers perform. A room of computer servers, running a future AI-based application which can design buildings, invent treatments or compose symphonies, will always be cheaper than employing a human. A robot (as and when they are developed) will always be a cheaper means of nursing an elderly resident of a care home than a human carer, no matter the tax breaks.

Indeed, with the use of AI, there may not be any difficulty in creating meaning that serves human-beings, without needing any human beings (or many of them) involved in the creative act itself. This is a profound conundrum which, in view of the centrality of the pursuit of meaning, work and productivity to human happiness, alongside the inevitability of accelerating technological advance, has no obvious remedy. My sense, particularly when it comes to caring roles, is that the solution will simply be good old fashioned regulation. Banning the use of robots and AI in the specific areas of life and industry which - quite rightly - we believe should be exclusively reserved for human beings, is the only proportionate way to respond.

Community

Technology, it turns out, is a prominent and recurring theme, despite the book being firmly about political philosophy, the Western inheritance and cultural reform. This speaks to the cross-cutting and penetrating nature of technology in our civic and cultural life. It gets everywhere. For this, and for its discussion of the Christian foundations of the Order and our place in creation, I found the section of Chapter 4 entitled ‘Dominion’ the most profound.

In it, Kruger discusses the Christian idea that humans are given earth as stewards to have dominion over it. We are firmly rooted ‘in’ nature, but are not essentially ‘of’ nature. However, by becoming detached from this nuanced position, we have forgotten how to work with nature in developing a sustainable but still productive economy. However technology, Kruger suggests, has the potential to foster improved symbiosis between respecting and caring for nature and human wellbeing: ‘technology is restoring an older, more sustainable Order', he writes.

But in a pertinent corrective to the techno-idolatrous among us, Kruger roots us in the need to ensure technology ‘remembers who’s boss’.

We need an attitude of unabashed human chauvinism, for the natural world’s sake and our own. This is especially necessary as the possibilities of artificial intelligence unfold, and particularly the imminent reality of artificial general intelligence, or machines that are not simply programmed for a particular function but are capable of turning their robot hands to anything, and indeed of deciding what to do for themselves.

‘This dark glory is almost upon us’, Kruger continues, warning that ‘it could turn out to be catastrophic - not least for democracy, which will find itself overseeing less and less as the technium assumes responsibility for more and more’. But it’s not all doom and gloom. If we are able to embed the principle that technology should remain our deferential servant, serving the interests of mankind, Kruger notes that there is a silver lining:

The only safe foundation for the age of tech is human virtue. This, not ‘science’, ‘progress’ or ‘reason’, is the proper basis for our engagement with the world and for our use of the world’s power to further the ends we think are good. To ensure a virtuous relationship with tech we need to make sure it honours the associations that make us virtuous ourselves.

And the question to perpetually ask: ‘Does a given technology serve or harm family life, the neighbourhood or the nation?’ Kruger argues that in the service of nation, we need to assert our ‘tech sovereignty’ against hostile state actors and embed our tech independence. For our families and communities too, tech - he suggests - can serve them. But we must ‘start with an extreme suspicion of its intentions’.

More specifically, Kruger suggests we should explore options for ‘community data ownership’ and to develop a form of digital habeas corpus that protects the rights of individuals to their own data. These ideas are little more than general ambitions in the book, but they may surely motivate others to elucidate the technical and policy implications, and render from them a solution. And as something I have very recently written on myself, Kruger implores us that when it comes to smartphones in the hands of children, ‘It is not too late to close the stopper on this particular evil genie’. I couldn’t agree more.

In another flurry with which I am in lamentable agreement, Kruger discusses the perverse incentives of our planning system; the ‘transgressive ideology’ which permeates our education; the corrosive ‘centralised, hospital-led’ structures of the NHS; and the recent confusion on the part of corporations between having a ‘purpose’ beyond profit, and an assertive ‘Equity, Diversity and Inclusion’ programme. Much of the causes of these mishaps fit squarely within the remit of the government’s direct responsibility and power, which makes one question how such phenomenon have emerged under a succession of Conservative governments.

Finally, Kruger discusses the centrality of the local community in offering us a sense of belonging. He characterises that sense of place as being about a given location imbued with meaning: something lost in our contemporary cities of adjacent and translucent lines, and flat-packed homes. But his solution - of mandatory “council service - a year as a part-time local councillor” has raised eyebrows, and is one that I can’t for the life of me grasp the advantages of.

As someone who has served as a local Councillor, I can testify to its power to tie you to a local area and invest your mind and heart in the people around you. But are we so empty of a more tacit expectation than to force this duty on our neighbours? What’s more, in a nation in which so much of our national institutions (including local government) have been overtaken by unthinking liberalism, how would funnelling our neighbours through those corridors help to inhibit its reach?

The big question

The question arises then, whether more can be done to re-establish the conditions of virtue which are necessary for the Order to rejuvinate? Can the good life be attained once more by overcoming the political and systematic challenges posed by the industrial revolution, the sexual revolution, mass migration and AI? Or do our present challenges demand the flow of virtue from a deeper well?

It is assumed throughout that a re-establishment of the ‘Order’ is tantamount to the renewal of Christian values. However, Kruger is notably silent on whether personal faith in the hearts and minds of the British public is a prerequisite for embracing and living out his recipe for progress.

In many ways, the most fundamental question that many of our contemporary thinkers (people like Jonathan Haidt, Jordan Peterson, Sam Harris, Douglas Murray and Tom Holland) are wrestling with is exactly that question: can we retain a sense of the equal value and dignity of human life, and the virtue of self-sacrifice, while remaining unhinged from the source which kindled them into their first expression? Can the fruit continue to grow without remaining firmly connected to its roots?

For what it’s worth, my sense (as much as many of our great minds are trying to find ways for it not to be so) is that it can’t. While I would relish being proven wrong, my sober feeling is that without a genuine and wide-spread renewal of personal belief and trust in Jesus, the case made in Kruger’s Covenant will forever sound more like murmurings from a Victorian progressive than a realistic and widely attractive roadmap for cultural renewal.

The good news, however, is this: that the case for Jesus, as the historical God-man who died for our sin and rose in bodily form to new life, and who promises us life with him forever, is overwhelmingly attractive, intellectually coherent and totally sufficient. And I heartily agree that a renewal of that nature would indeed bear the kind of cultural fruit which Kruger has tantalisingly dangled before us.

What’s more, from my limited visibility of these things, I am beginning to see signs that wider culture may be looking - even yearning - for that kind of an answer.

But that’s a story for another day.