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Throughout my lifetime, which began the year after the end of the Second World War, Britain has been asking itself the same political question - what is the appropriate role for the state? There have been plenty of certainties in theory, from those espousing communist-style involvement in almost every sector to those laissez-faire ideologues arguing that government intervention in society should be virtually eliminated.
The practice has been altogether different. In the immediate post-war period, the state controlled the utilities and the infrastructure along with many manufacturing industries. It created the National Health Service and also the welfare safety net.
By the 1970s, the state was already sagging from its responsibilities when Lady Thatcher came to power and disentangled its widespread control. Her wholesale privatisation projects then heralded an era of economic prosperity. But the state didn't go away. Nor did the cyclical problems of capitalism.
So now, amid a deep recession, the state finds itself obliged to sort out, and even underwrite, capitalism's problems (such as the banks' bailout). It is also expected to stimulate the economy, acting in an entrepreneurial role.
Nowhere is this more obvious than in yesterday's release of the Digital Britain report, the white paper produced by communications minister Lord Carter. It is an extraordinary document when viewed in the context of the state's economic history.
In Carter's own words, it marks a shift towards industrial activism. It is, in effect, treating media as if it was a nationalised railway system, creating a new communications infrastructure in the expectation that this will, in some magical way, transform the country.
Broadband, according to Prime Minister Gordon Brown is as indispensable as electricity, water and gas. If everyone has access to the net, the country will prosper. He also claims that "the digital economy" accounts for about 8% of the national income.
I am uncertain how he arrived at this statistic, but let's accept that it is broadly true and also accept that it will go on increasing.
Leaving aside any political partisanship, including my negative views of this Government, it does appear that the resurgent state is doing something of great and lasting value by advocating the national provision of superfast internet access. It certainly sounds more like "a white hot technological revolution" than the one promised in the 1960s by Harold Wilson.
There is irony too in the revelation that while the Government is forcing the pace, it appears to be the commercial communication giants that are dragging their heels.
The state has the vision, but the industry is reluctant to spend the money. On the other hand, a vision is not a strategy. So why should private capital fork out when there is no concrete blueprint to create a national fibre-optic network, the essential precondition for the spread of really high speed broadband?
It is not only a reminder of the imperfections of the state but also a clear indication of its powerlessness. It can hope and it can persuade, but it cannot deliver unless it reaches an accommodation with capital. There is further proof of this problem in the report's most controversial element - the proposal that the BBC should lose its licence fee monopoly to enable rival broadcasters to offer public service broadcasting competition.
Again, private capital is unwilling -and, frankly, unable - to fund regional news coverage. In the case of Channel 4, which is supposed to be a public service broadcaster, the whole of its output is in jeopardy.
To deal with the former problem, Carter recommends that part of the licence fee money should be used to subsidise independent news consortia, which is a clever concept because it might well stimulate the ailing regional newspaper companies to get involved.
Then again, it might not. Another idea would involve the BBC participating with newspaper publishers in providing news programmes, but the BBC's chairman, Sir Michael Lyons, believes that would compromise the corporation's independence.
It also strikes me that the crisis facing commercial broadcasters, due to the collapse in advertising and the gradual decline of audiences in an increasingly fragmented media landscape, may take years to solve, if ever.
This would surely mean that there would be increasing demand from the news consortia, should they ever get off the ground, for a larger slice of the licence fee. No wonder the BBC sees any form of "top-slicing" as the thin end of the wedge.
As for Channel 4's crisis, Carter remains hopeful that the company can sort out a deal with BBC Worldwide, the corporation's commercial arm, though there are doubts on each side about the whole idea. For example, C4's board is no longer united in favour of the deal.
I remain sceptical about it too, not least because it smacks of Channel 4 becoming a branch of the BBC, and that's hardly genuine competition.
All of these practical difficulties highlight the report's - and the state's - weaknesses. Behind-the-scenes discussions have failed to produce agreements for any of the key proposals, from broadband provision to the future of regional news.
The Government cannot compel the media industry to invest, but something must be done, and soon. I am reminded of that ruthlessly funny line from the movie Cool Hand Luke when the Paul Newman character, tracked down while on the run from prison, shouts to the warden: "What we've got here is a failure to communicate." In response, the warden orders Newman to be shot.
If you have a good broadband service, you can see it.
