The Post Office: an emblem of the UK’s relationship with the state, sliding into dystopia

The Horizon scandal, which led to the wrongful prosecution of hundreds of subpostmasters, has severely dented the public’s perception of the Post Office as an institution. Against this backdrop, branch closures are planned across the Post Office network.

These further cuts to a system already struggling can only do further harm to the sense that well-resourced public services could and should play a central role in everyday life.

In my PhD research, I spoke to people about their thoughts on the Post Office and their ideas about the future of society more generally. One interviewee relished their trips to Manchester’s now-closed crown post office at Spring Gardens and described it, with only a little irony, as “the cathedral of post”.

They loved the way it revealed something of the workings of a larger, complex and world-spanning system of communication. They also liked to daydream about how it would be to live in a society oriented towards a more community-focused, village-like way of life.

My work looks at these speculative dimensions of social life – the way hopes, dreams and desires for other ways of living are expressed by people now. These speculative dimensions have a political significance – they tell us something about the forms of social organisation people yearn for, and what frustrates them about our current way of living. Understanding how public infrastructures influence these frustrations and desires is a key focus of my research.

The infrastructures which facilitate social life also send signals to us about how society is organised, what’s valued and powerful within it, and what seems likely to be valued in the future. They help structure our ideas about what society is and what it could be like.

In the case of the Post Office, the Horizon scandal demonstrates how the consequences can be severe and dystopian when something malfunctions within a key institution of this kind.

Historically, the Post Office played a key role in developing infrastructures of modern life that came to be cherished. Key among these, as historian Patrick Joyce has noted, is routine engagement with paid officials of the state, through Post Office staff and postal delivery workers, or “posties”.

Speaking to Post Office workers and posties has long been among the most positively regarded interactions that an ordinary person routinely has with state infrastructures. Local post offices and posties have represented valued senses of local knowledge, community overwatch and benevolent officialdom.

Crown post offices (the larger branches in the network), often inhabiting a significant spot in a town or city centre, have done their bit too, contributing a sense of civic importance to a place, alongside libraries and town halls. They have provided access to a professional, knowledgeable human interface between a complex system of multiple state services, and those who rely on them.

But our positive engagements with this state system have been placed under decades of increasing strain. Privatisation has flowed from a creeping rejection of the idea that publicly owned public services could ever function beautifully. This, in turn, has left the services we need on a daily basis under-resourced.

The condition of crown post offices has reflected this. Their interiors often emanate a stark sense of minimal upkeep and only grudging repair. Already, many crown post offices have been closed. Where their services have not fully disappeared, they have been precariously relegated to space in retailers such as WH Smiths.

Meanwhile, the way we communicate, shop and socialise has been altering dramatically. Digital communication technology is impressing itself ever further into our social lives. Technology has deeply embedded associations with the future, but with this also comes a sense of unavoidability. The way AI is spoken about, as something set to bring inevitable and consequential transformations of our lives – whether we like it or not – is a case in point.

Both of these things – the neglect of physical places where we interact with state services and the increasing technologisation of social life – contribute to a growing sense of anachronism about places like the post office. The idea that a public service might attend to the public good in a well-appointed, pleasant, urban public setting feels, for no good reason, like a relic of the past.

All this affects the ways we imagine social futures. It brings a false air of inevitability to the loss of things people still need and care deeply about.

When talking with users of post offices for my research, there was a simultaneous sense among them that posties and post offices contributed vital resources to everyday life, and that technology meant these things were not likely to survive much further into the future. This was often regarded as something to be accepted, even as it was acknowledged that what was going to be lost was something important and irreplaceable.

But such losses are not inevitable. They are a political choice built on two key failures – failure to challenge the idea that well-funded, publicly owned and run public services are unaffordable, and failure to envisage ways of organising public services in the digital age, such that they retain the vital material contributions they make to places.

Further losses to the crown post office network would represent a sad and, I believe, unnecessary extension of these failures.

Martin Greenwood does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.