Shortly after the YouTube sensation that was Jeremy Paxman's October interview with Russell Brand, Paxman wrote a pithy column about his disillusion with Westminster politics. In it, he explained that what makes politicians "unappetising" is their hunger for power, that they are drawn to politics because they want to be in charge. This observation stayed with me, resurfacing during a conversation with an equally disillusioned entrepreneur who told me that contemporary politicians are followers, not leaders.
Within the context of technology – an industry defined by those who pioneer the new – this couldn't be more true. Before the 2010 general election, I combed through the manifestos of every significant party to compare their plans for technology. It didn't take long. The only effort was from the Conservatives, who had picked on their traditional themes of entrepreneurialism and small business to stake out the fleshy looking UK startup scene.
One semi-successful election later and the coalition government launched the Tech City initiative – in the Labour borough of Hackney – giving a name to a pre-existing cluster of successful developers, designers and entrepreneurs in east London. In the words of my entrepreneur friend, another initiative based on following rather than leading.
For 2014 the focus is now on introducing computer science to the national schools curriculum in September and the complementary Year of Code initiative.
Throughout all of this, where has Labour been? No technology manifesto. No vision for how the technology community in Hackney and the rest of east London – the capital's most deprived and challenged areas – could unlock digital skills and training for a whole new generation of workers. While the Conservatives eased themselves skilfully into the established business networks of the startup community, where was Labour's voice on rebuilding this increasingly essential and vibrant British industry?
Labour has been missing a trick. What better precedent than the one set by the honourable Sir Tim Berners-Lee in the open world wide web that he conceived 25 years ago this month? The values of the open web, it could be argued, are inherently liberal. The neutrality, the democracy of the platform which Berners-Lee himself still campaigns to protect means that for everyone with access, the web is equal to all who use it. Upskilling, crowdsourcing and networked communities are all fundamental Labour values for a digital age.
The web has disrupted and torn open every industry in turn. In training and education, every enlightenment from changing a tyre to degree-level physics is available, usually for free, online. Study at home from YouTube, or join an online course. But the potential for upskilling and empowering individuals is vast.
What used to be called "the wisdom of crowds" could offer the public sector a structure for more openness and even funding. Crowdfunding sites now span everything from gadgets and musicians to sustainable energy and publishing. Combine the platforms with the principle of making every public sector open and accountable, in plain English, with highly visible objectives. Looking to a socially transformative project such as Zopa, the peer-to-peer lending service, the impact could be significant.
And for community organisation, existing experiments around group-buying clubs could be formalised and expanded for the benefit of poorer communities. Others, such as Streetbank, encourage people to pass on goods or to use their time and skills to help neighbours; perhaps the most touching repercussion of our increasingly online lives is that real-world experiences are even more valuable.
Even the unions, of which a new generation is sadly ignorant and detached, have a powerful incarnation here, exploring how online networks can unify communities around shared goals. Given the insecurity of many low-paid jobs, sweeping benefit cuts, the extremely high cost of living and the anger over executive bonuses, the timing couldn't be better.
But there is finally movement. Most significantly, shadow home secretary Yvette Cooper has recently outlined how oversight of the UK's security services might be overhauled under a Labour government. The current system is unsustainable and will lead to a breakdown of public trust, she argued, stating that legislation needs to be brought up to date with technology.
It is a belated but important moment in the public debate post Snowden, and one in which informed and long-sighted UK politicians are essential. The muted UK reaction and debate stands in stark contrast to the US, where, critically, the wealthy and powerful tech lobby has its roots in the web libertarianism of Silicon Valley and defends its independence ferociously.
In the UK, our relationship with the web is perhaps less emotive. But we need a strong and technologically confident Labour party to interrogate this government's flaccid approach to the universal right to privacy and its unwillingness to engage in a meaningful debate over the acceptable limits of state security surveillance.
We also need a Labour party that can seize the stage for this debate on its own terms, backing it up with a compelling vision for a new era in which the internet empowers, organises and unifies the citizens of the UK. Social and vocational opportunity on that scale would be a truly great achievement for British engineering – and that really would be a manifesto worth following.
