For fifteen years, politicians have told us the same story.

They say Britain’s debt is too high. Government spending must be cut. Public services must be squeezed. Austerity is necessary because debt must come down.

There is just one problem. It ha never worked.

Before the financial crisis, UK government debt was around £500 billion. Today it is more than £2.8 trillion. Every year of austerity was supposed to reduce borrowing and reduce debt. Instead, debt rose year after year. It's never stopped.

So why are the same economists, newspapers and politicians who promoted austerity still demanding more cuts?

In this video, I examine the evidence. I explain why austerity can actually increase debt, why cutting spending reduces economic activity, why tax revenues fall when growth is suppressed, and why attempts to balance government finances often end up producing the exact opposite result.

If a medicine makes a patient sicker every time it is prescribed, doctors stop using it. So, why do economists keep prescribing austerity?

The numbers are clear. The evidence is clear. Debt-cutting has failed.

The question is why so many people refuse to admit it.

Most of us think we know what is true. We hold opinions, beliefs and convictions that feel self-evident. But what if many of the things we call truth are actually stories that we tell ourselves?

In this video, I explore the difference between truth, fact, belief and narrative. I argue that our identities are shaped by stories about nationality, faith, politics, family, culture and experience. Those stories help us make sense of the world, but they can also persuade us that our beliefs are facts when they are not.

I explain why certainty can be dangerous, why context matters more than we often admit, and why understanding other people’s narratives is essential if we want to change minds, reduce conflict and create a more caring society.

This is a video about humility, doubt, critical thinking and the importance of recognising uncertainty in a world where everyone claims to know the truth.

Do facts exist? How much of what we believe is actually true? And how should we respond when other people see the world very differently from us? These are big questions. And how do we work out the answers?

None of this is an accident. Neoliberalism actively reinforced the silo model because isolated specialists who see only their own narrow domain are far easier to manage, market to, and exploit than people who ask questions across disciplines and understand how the system actually works. The result has been generations of workers and a current political class that knows a great deal about very little, and is now being outcompeted by a machine that doesn't need a salary, a pension, or a lunch break.

The skills that survive the AI age are not the ones Britain's institutions are teaching. They are:

• Curiosity, which is the ability to ask good questions rather than store correct answers.
• Critical thinking, which is the ability to challenge what the machine produces and ask what is missing, and
• Care, which is the recognition that human well-being is interdependent and that no silo ever captured that truth.

A politics of care embraces these ideas. It is not a soft alternative to economic policy. It is the only rational response to the world that is already arriving.