The capital's creed

ONCE the world's largest port, London's docklands had become so desolate by the 1980s that Stanley Kubrick used them as a backdrop for his Vietnam war film “Full Metal Jacket”. Thanks to government investment and private enterprise, the area is now a shimmering success story. Canary Wharf, a skyscraper cluster, hosts bankers from around the world. City Airport, opened in 1987, is the easy option for business travel to the continent. The Docklands Light Railway and an extension of the Tube have connected the area to the heart of the capital. The once-derided Millennium Dome is now the busiest music venue in the world.

The docklands are a monument to what could be called Londonism. Since the creation of the capital's mayoralty in 2000, a distinct ideology has congealed around that office. Some of it is recognisably right-wing: it embraces high finance, even during the banker-bashing furore. Some of it is conventionally left-wing: Londonism calls for state spending on infrastructure and a liberal line on immigration. Essentially, it is a commitment to relentless growth and openness. The city long ago made the transition from mere capital to global hub. Now it has a political philosophy to match.

The two men who have held the mayoralty so far—who are also the main candidates for the mayoral election next year—have been Londonists. Labour's “Red” Ken Livingstone, who ran the city until 2008, was actually pragmatic about capitalism. He approved private developments and enjoyed surprisingly good relations with the City. At the same time, he used his bully pulpit to ask Whitehall for infrastructure money and an open immigration policy.

His successor, the Conservative Boris Johnson (pictured), has been similarly heterodox. Mr Johnson has publicly deplored the new 50% top rate of income tax, introduced by the previous Labour government and retained by the Conservative-Liberal Democrat coalition, which he fears will repel wealth-creators. He bashes those who bash bankers, pointing to the jobs that the financial sector creates and the tax revenues it generates. He successfully hounded the government to go ahead with Crossrail, a new east-west underground train system for the city (though Mr Livingstone can claim most of the credit for the project).

Some suspect Mr Johnson of positioning himself to replace David Cameron, the prime minister, as Tory leader one day. Mr Johnson is palpably ambitious, but some of his views seem likely to alienate the Tory grassroots: for example, he complains loudly that the government's restrictions on immigration risk limiting London's access to foreign talent.

City state

There are important differences between the ways Mr Johnson and Mr Livingstone have approached the mayoralty. Confronted by the lack of independent fiscal levers at the mayor's disposal, Mr Livingstone saw economic growth as a way of achieving redistribution by other means. He adeptly used planning laws to encourage projects that included affordable housing, transport upgrades and other social goods.

The coming electoral clash between the two will emphasise their differences. But whatever its outcome, Londonism has become a self-reinforcing ideology that will probably outlive both men's careers. The more open and multifarious the city becomes, the more it attracts people who want it to stay that way. “London”, says Tony Travers of the London School of Economics, “increasingly defines itself by having moved a step farther along the path of cosmopolitanism than anywhere else on the planet.” The most interesting aspect of the city's bid for the 2012 Olympics was not its victory but the nature of its campaign, which sold London as the ultimate global city rather than a British one.

Although many major cities aspire to growth and globalism, London has an easier time achieving both than its western rivals. Its location is an obvious advantage over New York. Europe is on its doorstep; Beijing is not that much farther away than Wall Street; time differences allow London to do business with both in the same day. Then there is its own geography: it is easier for diverse lifestyles to co-exist in a sprawling city of distinct villages than in a relatively concentrated metropolis such as either New York or Paris. The latter is also hamstrung by its beauty; daring new developments have a tougher time getting approved than in hotch-potch London.

Of course, Londonism carries risks. Mass immigration has caused some social friction in the outskirts—though for the most part the city remains strikingly unsegregated. A laissez-faire approach to lifestyles can be taken too far. London has been an alarmingly relaxed harbour for extremists: as mayor, Mr Livingstone hosted Yusuf al-Qaradawi, a controversial cleric. The financial crash brought home the downside of a vast banking sector.

Then there is the challenge of one-city dominance. National politicians oscillate between a zeal to prop up Britain's regions and a resigned acceptance that scarce investment must go to its behemoth of a capital. The latter has been winning of late, hence Crossrail, the high-speed connection to the continent, and the upgrades of London's bus and Tube networks. A bicycle rental scheme—conceived by Mr Livingstone, implemented by Mr Johnson—is just the most eye-catching of the city's recent transport improvements.

There is a cultural divide, too. Before the financial crisis, Londonism seemed indistinguishable from a broader British take on the world: freewheeling, relaxed about globalisation. The overall British view has now soured, while London's remains outward-looking. Londonism seems more sensible in a world in which Britain cannot be too picky about how it earns its living, and dynamic people will be warmly welcomed elsewhere. It is a fittingly mongrel ideology for the cosmopolis.