What is it about Liverpool which prompts so much official mawkishness? On Monday 26th May, a car ploughed into a crowd of football fans in the city centre, injuring scores of folk, including children. The victims were part of a much vaster gathering which had assembled to celebrate Liverpool FC's topping of the English League. Coming so soon after the conviction of Axel Rudukubana for the murder of three much-loved little girls in nearby Southport, the authorities sounded hugely relieved to swiftly report the perpetrator was a white, middle aged, local man and father of three. It was also briefed the "suspect" was "high on drugs" (although this was not confirmed at his subsequent arraignment). Senior policemen also said the force was "working at pace" to gather "evidence", which really turned out to be hundreds of hours of images from surveillance camera and verbal recollections from outraged fans. The deputy chief constable of Merseyside solemnly affirmed "everyone would get justice". The Prime Minister (no less) jetted to the city to layer an official patina of concern on the incident. In time honoured fashion, Starmer's "heart went out" to the many victims and to the "people of Liverpool", whether or not they had been flattened or somersaulted by the recklessly driven vehicle. Their Majesties sent a note of condolence which recognised the fortitude of Liverpool's citizens and implicitly expressed a hope for their forbearance. So, an extensively photographed incident of traffic mayhem; an undeniably alarmed official response; a massive PR operation and a quite extraordinary outpouring of officially led "grief". Thus Britain in 2025.
Growing up, if my family associated Liverpool with anything it was the Beatles, the "Kop", Ken Dodd, the "Wigwam" and Aintree. My mother was a great fan of Beryl Bainbridge too and her admiration for the BBC's "Play for Today" introduced us to the Liverpudlian playwright Alan Bleasdale. His gritty "Boys from the Black Stuff" was to become a cultural marker of the economic upheavals of the nineteen eighties. Who can forget its main character, the unemployed scouser Yosser Hughes? Played by Bernard Hill (actually a Mancunian), it was he who minted the forlorn plea of "Gizza Job", which has entered the lexicon. There have been plenty of real heroes too - Merseyside has produced 16 winners of the VC, including one of only three men who have won it twice, Captain Noel Chevasse of Liverpool Scottish.
The town's port economy also played its own muscular role in Britain's development. It was heavily involved by the trans-Atlantic Slave Trade and when that was terminated, it re-invented itself as the foremost European entrepot for the importation of US cotton. Liverpool was to become one of the leading cities of the British Empire and its urban footprint contains some of the finest examples of nineteenth century civic architecture in Britain. It is home to George Gilbert Scott's magnificent Anglican cathedral. The longest in the world, it is physically linked with the equally visually arresting "Wigwam", the Roman Catholic cathedral which stands at the other end of Hope Street.
It's also worth noting, outside London, Liverpool nowadays probably contains one of the highest concentrations of art galleries and museums in the UK, including the Walker Gallery and Tate Liverpool. There are other marvels. Built in 1836, Lime Street station is the oldest continually operating railway terminus in the world. The city has heft.
My closer association with Merseyside began in 1977 when I was confirmed by Derek Warlock, the unimprovably named Archbishop of Liverpool. He became famous for his friendship and ecumenical collaboration with the Anglican bishop David Sheppard, who had been in the England cricket XI. Both were instrumental in soldering the sectarian divisions of the area, a consequence of the huge influx of folk migrating from Ireland over the years. In 1979 the link was cemented when I was commissioned, aged just eighteen and one month, into my regiment. In a predominantly scouser unit, it was often challenging to maintain authority and a straight face as the frequent hilarities of military life and the instances of humour were numerous and infectious. I got to know many of the families of "squaddies" who were barely older than me but a few of whom already had kids, both in and out of wedlock. As an officer, I was supposed to be able to offer some pastoral insight - a ludicrous imperative given I had only just started shaving. I was taught far, far more than I could teach and had to grow up pretty quickly. But the regiment took its soldierly duties and its sporting ones extremely seriously. Gunnery, battle drills, boxing and association football were big deals, although the tank park indulged the officers' mess by providing two-thirds of the regimental rugby XV. In so far as Association Football figured in regimental loyalties, the majority of the soldiers supported Everton. When I turned up as a teenaged officer, a corporal at the guardroom asked me to name the two most famous football clubs of Merseyside. Thinking it must be the pass-word I replied "Liverpool FC and Tranmere Rovers". I never looked back. In my last year of service, I was granted a home posting and was sent to act as the Regular Army's liaison with the city's TA units and cadet forces. The latter were concentrated among Merseyside's largest schools, both public and private; these provided a rich seam of recruits for the Army's cadre of "Junior Leaders". In those years, many unacademic youngsters who might have ended up in a life of petty crime or unemployment were recruited as juniors straight into the forces. Many later became senior NCOs, Warrant Officers and holders of a commission. A number went on to make a mark in civil life. In the 'nineties I returned to Liverpool as a civilian myself, this time to meet clients for whom I managed pension and life assurance funds. I often stayed at the inimitable Adelphi Hotel and can recall the spectacular views from the top floor of the Liver Building as we debated investment ideas and local gossip. I missed soldiering and my memories of the place, its regiment and its people were (and are) entirely positive.
It would be fair to say however, public and official attitudes towards the city have been rather more ambiguous over the years.1981 saw the Toxteth riots but arguably the nadir in the city's reputation was reached in May 1985 when Liverpool FC supporters created mayhem at the European Cup held at the Heysel stadium in Belgium and caused 39 fatalities amongst Juventus and other neutral fans. English clubs were subsequently banned from European competition for five years and 14 of the rioters were convicted of manslaughter. While scouse hooligans were on the rampage over the terraces, back home disorder of a different kind had broken out in the offices of the city council. A caucus of Trotskyite Labour councillors under the leadership of Derek Hatton took on the Thatcher government; refused to set a legal budget; oversaw a breakdown in public services and were subsequently disbarred from office. Liverpool looked to be ungovernable.
In 1989 a turning point of sorts was reached. That April, Liverpool FC was at the centre of another footballing disaster when 94 of its fans were crushed to death at the Hillsborough stadium in Sheffield. The tragedy was first thought to be the consequence of disorder by the crowd but was later revealed to have been mostly the result of incompetent stewardship by officials and police at the ground. Yet while the Belgians had been castigated for taking a leisurely 4 years to secure convictions for the Heysel disaster, the wheels of British justice barely moved at all. It was not until 2019 that anyone faced criminal proceedings for Hillsborough and nearly all were later acquitted on various technicalities. Thirty years of judicial messing about for nothing: now the British state appeared unable to govern itself.
The rehabilitation of Liverpool has coincided with the growing infantilism of public life. As society has fragmented and folk are increasingly regarded as "victims" of life rather than free agents within it, mawkishness has replaced solidarity as a sign of political and journalistic seriousness and credibility. Liverpool has certainly been treated to bucket-loads of "grief" over the intervening years. After Hillsborough, who can forget the dreadful and barbaric execution of Ken Bigley by Islamic psychopaths in 2004 and the plangent Liverpudlian accent of the mother of Madeleine McCann, who was abducted nearly twenty years ago in 2007? Such incidents have witnessed outpourings of "compassion" by people and politicians who have absolutely no connection with the those affected by these tragedies. There have been the wearing of arm-bands and two minute silences, anniversary commemorations (rather fewer in the case of Heysel than Hillsborough) and acres of prurient newsprint. Above all has been the sight of senior politicians "reaching out" to folk whom they never knew before and whom are quickly forgotten afterwards. Nowadays, grief isn't really proper grief unless it is publicly expressed. Normal human emotions which should go without saying are loudly trumpeted as a sign of "authenticity". As one commentator put it "Mawkishness is the tribute indifference pays to solidarity".
Today, economic inactivity, whether defined by the dole or benefits paid to those not seeking work at all, encompasses nearly 30% of the working age population of Liverpool. Yet the constituencies of Merseyside have been Labour voting fortresses ever since the franchise was expanded. In a world where empathy now has a higher weight than actual achievement, it could be fairly said that the city's MPs have been rather too snugly insulated by the deprivation and lack of aspiration which they claim to want to alleviate. Indeed it was a Tory cabinet minister (Michael Heseltine), who did more than any Labour minister to get Liverpool to raise its game after the Toxteth riots. When the Labour MP for Birkenhead, Frank Field, was appointed by Tony Blair to "think the unthinkable" about the destructive influence of creeping welfarism he was however, swiftly removed. Unfortunately, Frank's recommendations were just a little too spicy for the "caring" party.
Liverpool is just going to have to get used to being patronised.
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