Capitalist crisis

DESPITE its title, this book is far from being a fatalistic or cynical tract. George Monbiot refuses to become demoralised or jaded, despite being forced to adopt a quixotic role by the ruling elite.

He is a unique treasure - invariably writing good sense, using sane arguments in a fluent and engaging prose. He is supremely knowledgeable and passionate without becoming overemotional or hysterical.

We couldn't have a more capable pugilist fighting our corner against those who seem bent on destroying the planet.

The tragedy is that he is kept out of the ring, obliged to shout advice, warnings and good counsel from the back row of the gallery, whereas he should be there within the echelons of power as a top government adviser or elected leader.

In this selection of essays written between 1998 and 2007, we have a distillation of his advocacy. In them, he covers not just environmental but a whole gamut of political, philosophic and social issues.

Monbiot attacks writers such as Jonathan Freedland and Tristram Hunt for arguing that a new sense of patriotism is needed in the face of the so-called terrorist threat. He demolishes such a narrow vision.

"I don't hate Britain," he writes, "and I am not ashamed of my nationality, but I have no idea why I should love this country more than any other. The world will be a happier and safer place when we stop putting our own countries first."

From issues of patriotism, he moves smoothly on to investigate the insidious role of big business, global politics and the idiocies of religious fundamentalism.

In all these essays, Monbiot forces you to make what, on the surface, may appear to be incongruous connections and rethink commonly held shibboleths.

He writes, for instance, that, "to understand the Middle East, you must first try to understand what is happening in Texas." This may appear odd, but he demonstrates the links and the logic.

In The Willy Loman Syndrome, he takes a BMA report that reveals an alarming rise of mental health problems, particularly among children, despite the increased wealth, better health and opportunities in our society.

He shows how children born into poverty here and in the US are very likely to stay poor, while the rich continue to amass new wealth and maintain their status. Social mobility is more of a myth than ever today.

This country, writes Monbiot, is slumbering through a deep and unremarked peace. But by peace he doesn't just mean the absence of war, but the absence of bitter competition for resources.

Go to Malawi, Zambia or Dafur and you can see how competition for the bare essentials of life is tearing society apart.

We, in the privileged world, have no first-hand experience of this.

In Afghanistan, Iraq and elsewhere, other people are killing on our behalf - we simply pay the victor for the spoils.

Monbiot reminds us of the merciless battles, the trampling and elbowing that goes on every year at the big Harrods sale, and asks us to imagine what it would be like if this were a fight for water, food or energy.

Where to begin? There's so much good sense in this book - every sentence makes you reflect deeply and question structures, politics and mindsets as well as one's own mode of life.

Monbiot challenges like no other writer. He's not a smartarse or a dreamy-eyed eco-hippy, nor does he offer easy answers, but he remains passionate and committed to struggle despite the enormity of the challenges and the setbacks.