In an age of interdependence, the freedom of individuals may rebound upon others and themselves.Since many of the connections which now bind us are new, we can’t deal with them by reverting to traditional forms of regulation and authority. The freedom to travel to work alone in a private car, for example, leads to traffic congestion, urban decay and air pollution. In the advanced economies – in stark contrast to the poorer regions of the world – the most difficult problems are not about material shortages but about what the author terms “disorders of freedom”. We should recognise, he accepts, that freedom has its pathologies. The very act of writing about it as a native puts you on the defensive. As Jane Austen said (Emma, 1816): “One has no great hopes from Birmingham.

I always say there is something direful in the sound.” Actually, I think there is something comical in the sound “Birmingham,” you say, and you expect a joke. Like: “Birmingham, Europe’s meeting place” (the current corporate slogan), which implies a romantic assignation under Spaghetti Junction. Or: “Birmingham, Venice of the Midlands.” Of course, there’s nothing more unromantic (or less like Venice) than Birmingham. It’s like the opening of a comedy sketch, and not a particularly good one. The truth is, when I left the city all those years ago, I was embarrassed by it.

But then again – like Jane Austen – I was an insufferable little prig I’d read too many books I’d seen too many films I wanted to be a writer I wanted to be a citizen of the world I wanted to be sophisticated, urbane, intelligent. Anything, in fact, but a Brummie.I remember sharing a flat with a couple of Londoners, the summer after I’d moved. They were talking about food in an urbane manner, comparing the merits of various national culinary traditions One of them favoured Italian and the other French I said, “I like curries” The first one turned round to me. “I’ve never been that enamoured of Indian cookery,” he told me.