On Political Impasse

“Friendship hath the skill and observation of the best physician, the diligence and vigilance of the best nurse, and the tenderness and patience of the best mother.” Edward Hyde, MP for Saltash in the Long Parliament (elected 1640).

Edward Hyde in 1626.

In the summer of 1640, no fewer than two Parliaments received their summons from the Crown. The first was dissolved after three weeks; the members of the second were only formally relieved of their duties twenty years later, on the eve of the Restoration. Perhaps counter-intuitively, the very different fates of these two parliaments proceeded from the same fundamental problem: across the preceding half-century new pressures had emerged within the polity that the existing constitutional settlement could not contain.

The UK’s current situation resembles nothing so much as the mid-seventeenth century. On today’s Politics Live, the excellent Peter Hennessey described the European issue as “particularly fissile” – because it refracts so variously through different people’s sense of patriotism. We are not good at understanding others’ definitions of the patriotic. This, too, was the issue in the 1640s: for Charles, patriotism was owed primarily to the Crown, as the unanswerably supreme source of power and authority in the kingdom; for Parliamentarians like John Pym, patriotism was linked indivisibly with defence of the ancient constitution and the rights of the Commons; for others, such as the MP for Saltash, Edward Hyde – who began as a critic of the King but later, at the Restoration, was appointed by the monarch Earl of Clarendon – patriotism was about achieving consensus and compromise, and therefore protecting the commonwealth from conflict. The tragedy of the time was that the latter was impossible.

Last night, the Prisons Minister, Rory Stewart, tweeted on the subject of the decision by Her Majesty’s Opposition to seek the government’s collapse: “A no confidence vote solves nothing – we need consensus not party politics.” The issue, of course, is that the current government has proven incapable of achieving that consensus – and the Conservative Party from which it is constituted refuses to take the drastic action necessary to rectify this situation, for fear of its own fate. Many Tories calculate, of course, that a Corbyn government would be a disaster for the country – and so they rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of. Most do so in pursuit of what they have assessed to be the interests of the polity – their opponents likewise. The problem with patriotism is that it is one of the few things more mutable than the British constitution itself – and that makes it a very poor yardstick by which to measure the wisdom of policy. The Edward Hydes of 2019, then, find themselves in similarly hopeless isolation.

The Long Parliament ultimately entered into war with the Crown. We are at this stage – surely – far from civil war. We are, however, deep into the kind of political chaos which the England of the 1640s would have recognised. Partisans of every stripe publish pamphlets and proclamations; groups split and splinter with alarming alacrity; both utopian and millenarian visions of potential futures proliferate daily in the cheap press. The great student of these factions, the Marxist historian Christopher Hill, argued that, in the brief period of political freedom inaugurated by the vacuum that had suddenly appeared at the heart of the constitution, “the lower orders could [now] collect together and discuss whatever they liked, with no control from above at all.”

In 2016, David Cameron explained in a speech to Chatham House, that he would hold a referendum on EU membership in which “it will be your decision whether we remain in the EU […] Nobody else’s. Not politicians’, not parliament’s, not lobby group’s, not mine.” In doing so, he made a mistake even Charles I, famously ill-suited to power, did not: under his stewardship, the British Isles fell into political chaos as a matter of design rather than accident.

Not Charles I.

Charles at least tried to force the constitutional settlement with which he was saddled to cohere; Cameron happily promised a type of referendum that actively ate away at his own. An In/Out referendum was always an absurdly stark choice, and the last two years have demonstrated just how foolish it was to commit simply to leaving the EU upon command. Given the complexities of the legal and political frameworks involved, “Leave” was always a contingent instruction, a direction but not a route. John Pym could not unravel royal prerogative without recourse to war; Theresa May has been unable to exit the EU without plunging the country she nominally seeks to emancipate into its deepest constitutional crisis in centuries.

There is, of course, a conspiracy theory: that our political class, like Charles’s ill-fated advisors, Strafford and Laud, wishes only to have its way – and will seek to ride roughshod over any who attempt to stymie its will. In this vision, the Government could leave the EU tomorrow if it wished, and the Commons should vote against its instincts in an effort to honour the result of Cameron’s half-baked referendum. This paranoia is nothing new, and represents the long-standing wedge between the governed and the governors which acts for us in a similar way to that in which the increasing insufficiency of Tudor methods of revenue generation to meet the demands of Stuart expenditure and statecraft acted for our early modern ancestors.

In her Why We Get The Wrong Politicians (2018), Isabel Hardman attempts to identify the ways in which we might heal “this endless hostility to MPs” (p. 171). Her prescription is based on the analysis that we don’t so much get the wrong politicians as we have inherited and maintained the wrong political culture: “far more insidious [than conspiracy] is the way [that even] politicians try to seem different to their colleagues by disparaging politics itself” (p. 211). The former soldier and backbench Tory MP Johnny Mercer is a good example of this breed, and they do not help. What, ultimately, is the solution to apparently insoluble questions? How do we as a nation change a general direction into a specific route? Politics. There is no other mechanism of conversing as a community.

“We are divided because we are stuck as much as we are stuck because we are divided,” writes David Runciman in the most recent issue of the London Review of Books. This gets pithily to the heart of things, and Runciman like Hardman sees political (note: not necessarily constitutional) reform as the only long-term means out of our current bind. There are currently no good outcomes open to us: a disorderly, or No Deal, Brexit would be disastrously chaotic; overturning the 2016 referendum and remaining in the EU seems, well, cavalier in its subordination of the popular will to Parliament; a second referendum would be improbably fractious; a general election would simply roll the dice on the current parliamentary maths, and if polls are anything to go by would deliver nothing like a commanding enough majority for any party to push through a deal with any more success than May’s minority government has enjoyed. We have reached this impasse for reasons much wider than Brexit – the inadequacy of our political parties as currently constituted, the weakness of our legislature in comparison to the executive, the absence of reliable and consistent subsidiarity. Brexit will solve none of them; it is merely their ultimate expression.

Reform, too, would have been the better route in 1640. It proved impossible to take. We must hope than in 2019 we are more successful in finding a way to become unstuck. That effort must start in Parliament, with honest leadership that lays out to both sides in the country the uncomfortable truths about our system, and about Brexit, that the last two years have cast into the highest possible relief. There is as yet little sign that we will get that – but good politics is ultimately the art of dialogue. Edward Hyde knew what happened when leaders ceased to speak.

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On the Withdrawal from the European Union Bill Reaching Its Second Reading

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I’m putting this edited version of some of my remarks from Twitter tonight here. Because it’s my blog, and I’ll self-plagiarise if I want to.

It was remarkable to watch the Commons tonight: a huge majority believe Brexit will be a disaster, but a huge majority will vote for it. The talking point is that this is respect for democracy. It feels more like a mature democracy being hit with a blunt object.

I do have every sympathy, though, for MPs who hold that ignoring a plebiscite would be an equal or greater disaster than they fear Brexit will be.

Sometimes too much is made of “career” politics. But one of its very real consequences, perhaps, is a corrosion of representative democracy.

Sure, we have formed a political class that is distinct from other classes. But independently wealthy MPs are similar in this regard. When elecions are job interviews, though, we also erode the idea that politicians may disagree with their constituents in good faith.

I distrust referenda for this reason – they are wedges that place further distance between the two motors of a representative democracy – that is, the people and their representatives. (And I’m conscious, too, that the political culture I speak of may or may not be that of all those currently subject to it – Scots, for instance, or Londoners.)

Once held, referenda they must be understood and acted upon. But there is something unseemly about the current groupthink amongst reluctant MPs. And that groupthink does nothing to defend the already frayed bonds of our political culture. Leave or Remain, this should worry you.

Referenda don’t break political systems. They are symptoms of them. This is why I think it urgent that we reduce barriers to entry in our politics. If you are unrepresented, you should be able to do so yourself. What worries me is that, instead, voters in democracies are turning toward blunt instruments to effect change.

Quis Corbyniet Ipsos Corbynes?

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It has taken me months – more or less fully the close-to-a-year that he has been leader of the Labour Party – to find the courage to write about Jeremy Corbyn. Undoubtedly, courage is what is required – never in my lifetime has Labour politics in particular, but British politics in general, been so querulous and febrile. That our politics requires courage is not, I think, a bad thing – for decades it has been more often characterised if not by cowardice then a queasy caution. Even Thatcherism, lionised by some and despised by others for its hatchet-job temerity, strikes me as a form of capitulation – to American hegemony or global capital or simply compensatory managerialism. It is this technocratic approach which is most despised by those flocking to Corbyn’s banner. That it requires courage now to be political speaks of a moment in which we might actually be doing something.

But doing what? Part of the courage we now require is simply in predicting events – the kaleidoscope is over-shaken. What next depends, of course, upon whom you ask. For my part, I haven’t shifted on the subject of Corbyn from initial scepticism: for all the rapture which welcomed his original leadership campaign – the huge turn-outs, the excited spike in membership, the unassailable mandate – it never seemed to me that what Corbyn was saying was terribly interesting in anything other than its distinctiveness from the barren pronouncements of his opponents. “If the best the left can do is go back to the planned economy, we are screwed,” I texted a friend last July, who seemed surprised I wasn’t embracing Corbynism’s first flush with enthusiasm. Corbyn is a Bennite; for many this is his selling-point. For me it is the best expression there might be of the wider malaise of the left. Corbynism badly needs a Jeremy Corbyn figure to shake it up and put it on a righteous, radical path.

But Owen Smith has matched Corbyn policy-by-policy (except on keeping Trident and inviting ISIS to tea) – and why vote for an unimaginative retreat to a 1970s comfort blanket when you can vote for an unimaginative retreat to a 1970s comfort blanket that really means it? Where are the bright ideas from Corbyn’s leadership – even bright ideas, like those of Paul Mason, which seem doomed to remain in the middle chapters of lesser-read Charlie Stross novels? Why has he failed to do anything more with his ascent to the apex of his party than continue to advocate for his ascent to the apex of his party?

Because, Corbynistas will retort, he has been given no room to express an agenda, and no space to relax into the role. That is, the ‘Labour right’ has prevented anything but an immediate bunkerisation of the Corbyn project. I no longer know what is meant by the ‘Labour right’ – the old right of John Spellar or the “Blairism” of the King over the water, David Miliband? Or perhaps what was once the soft leftism of Angela Eagle, or the plain-speaking bullishness of Margaret Hodge. The ‘right’ has morphed into a bogeyman, a label with which to tar and defang Corbynism’s opponents. The breakdown of meaningful dialogue between heterodox political positions characterises our new hard-knock politics more than any other phenomenon: Brexiters and Remainers, one half seemingly hardly knowing a member of the other; Cameroons and Mayites, unable to serve in the same Cabinet even when the transition period between the two regimes is wafer thin; the one per cent and the ninety-nine; the Scots and the English.

But Corbyn’s heart is in the right place – Corbyn wants to stop all this. His is a kinder, gentler politics. He means well. With much of this it is hard to disagree, since his has been a career defined by stubborn advocacy for the under-dog; but my issue is that I have never been sufficiently tribal to believe that at least a fair number of Tories, too, also bleed if we prick them. What matters is not intention but plans of action; we all want that which we define as “best”. But what is that? And how will you achieve it? Robert Halfon wants to tackle poverty, just like Jeremy Corbyn. I know how he proposes to do so, and disagree; Jeremy shrouds his strategy in good intentions.

Perhaps all of this is due to the failure of communications ably identified by (for it is he) Owen Jones. But the dispassionate observer might instead conclude that the principal project of Corbynism is not to craft a platform for government but to build a means of achieving creative destruction within the Labour Party. From the forming of a social movement to the application of extra-parliamentary pressure on legislators, the Corbyn project is so inchoately anti-establishment that it can attract even anarchists like Alan Moore as fellow travellers. This is yet another sign of the abject collapse of the social democratic left. This moribundity can be observed across Europe and beyond; but its ubiquity offers no defence. The lack of a compelling narrative from Andy Burnham or Yvette Cooper in 2015; the ham-fisted incompetence of the so-called coup against Corbyn; and Ed Balls’s abject appearances on Strictly Come fucking Dancing are all symptoms of this malaise. But no consequence of social democracy’s senescence is as eloquent as the rise of Jeremy Corbyn.

Indeed, the malaise may well require the sort of revolution Corbynistas hanker for. If Owen Smith is the solution being sold, surely everyone must go to another store. The issue is, however, that the Corbynmania whipped up by the Socialist Campaign Group in order to win last year’s election serves to occlude any policy platform they might now wish to develop: in this excellent piece (the most balanced I have read), the LRB’s Tom Crewe writes that “the failure to separate Jeremy Corbyn from the project of a revived left 
 obscures (and by extension denies) the existence of legitimate concerns about his leadership.” That is, while you’re busy sharing all those stories from the Canary about how the attacks on Corbyn are all one big conspiracy, you are failing to take the log from your eye. Where are the propitious signs which do not rely on blind faith that Corbynism can, in Moore’s words, “struggle towards a future that we and all of the people who came before us could breathe in”?

I worry. How devastating that UKIP’s Douglas Carswell often seems to express the world-historical underpinnings of our particular moment better than John McDonnell. How fractured a left that cannot occupy or express any truly radical position until it has destroyed itself.

Owen Smith is not the answer to all this, of course. But is Corbyn-as-Moses any more a solution? Who could salvage from Corbynism’s under-whelming performance the trailblazing transformation that was promised? Might Jeremy lead his people to the promised land but never enter it, leaving the storming of the land of milk and honey to McDonnell or Clive Lewis? In the face of a possible early election, an uncooperative parliamentary party, an unprecedented period of constitutional flux and an at-best nascent movement outside Parliament, this seems a slim possibility. It might be made more likely by a war of slow attrition inside the Labour Party – the only body in Britain today, by the way, even faintly capable of mounting a proper opposition to Conservatism. Should Corbyn win on Wednesday, there is little doubt that his allies will recommence with renewed energy exactly that project. But while they are helping themselves, who is helping the people in whose name they are recreating their party? How many years will it take to reach the promised land, and how many of us will fall down during the long trudge through the desert?

The Labour party is Corbynism’s cocoon, and it is struggling to make its way out. What it will look like if it ever does manage to emerge is uncertain – as is why anyone, as a consequence, might feel at all qualified to vote in the party’s current leadership contest with anything but trepidation.

June 16th, 2016

I have for the last few days been ruminating on a blog post about the UK’s current referendum on EU membership, and the horrifyingly destructive standard of its associated debate; about our creaking political system and its readily apparent failure to create a sphere in which meaningful, representative and rational conversations can be had. And then a Member of Parliament was murdered in the street.

That this unspeakably shocking event somehow does not, however, come as a surprise is testament to the parlous state of our national public discourse – and rather overtakes, for now, any other concerns.

We have allowed venom and spite to infect and pervert the ways in which we speak to each other about ideas and people. This has been happening for some time, on both left and right, and it is born of frustration, fear and, in some cases, brute strategy. It is a pyrrhic and paranoid form of politics which necessarily leads to nullity.

The EU Referendum is not the cause of this situation; it has, though, become its clearest expression. Both sides – all sides – are guilty of pandering to the paucity of the age; both sides – all sides – must pull back and remember that, though we may disagree, we must not doubt the sincerity of the other’s convictions.

Nevertheless, convictions, like assassinations and like rhetoric, are political acts – and acts can be evil. It is the responsibility of each of us to fight not those with whom we disagree (that is what debate is for), but the sorts of political act which do damage to our shared polity, our increasingly fragile community.

Remain in the EU or leave it; adhere to Corbynism or to Cameroonery. Do whatever you must, but principles are only worth fighting for insofar as they contribute to a climate in which we as individuals might all live peaceably.

Let us all measure our aims and our methods by their capacity also to achieve these wider goals. Let’s aim for mutual respect, not endemic suspicion; for informed scepticism, not knee-jerk cynicism. Jo Cox’s husband has written a dignified, open-hearted statement in which he urges us all to “unite to fight against the hatred that killed her”. Which of us would object to that? So let’s begin.

“Only One Sexist Comment”

kuenssbergOkay, so yes, Laura Kuenssberg is exhibiting political bias.  That’s one problem for and about the BBC for sure.  But, so are many journalists. When Nick Robinson was attacked by Scottish Nationalists for his Indyref reporting, there were several petitions which didn’t attract many signatures.  One on change.org gained 19,000, although it didn’t reach its target, compared to the speedily reached 35,000 on the now removed 38 Degrees petition calling for Laura Kuenssberg’s sacking.  And the Robinson petition asked for his suspension, not for him to lose his job and whole career. Go figure.

The question is, what is the appropriate level of response to this bias? And it is not insignificant that we’re having this conversation about the BBCs first female political editor.

This morning, blogs and news sources are sharing this link to the comments on the removed petition – stating that only one comment was sexist, and therefore it shouldn’t have been taken down.

Aside from the more extreme defamatory language used about Kuenssberg, especially on Twitter,  a quick skim of these comments (I haven’t included all of them) reveals more than one sexist, gender biased statement, such as:

‘She almost spits and gurns whilst attacking them. She was at it again last night!’

‘She is entirely bias towards the Tory Party, Cameron in particular I think they may have had or are having a thing. There is definitely something there’

‘The bias this woman shows on repeat is repugnant.’

‘Laura is not a political commentator. But she can be a very good gossip columnist’

‘this woman is an insult to the general populace’s intelligence and spouts utter drivel.’

‘She sucks badly’

‘The woman is an utter disgrace’

‘She’s a Jewish extremist.’ (Oh, so a bit of anti-semitism in there too.)

‘She’s a Scottish cow who should keep her name out of UK politics.’

‘mad woman’

‘Like a whippet curled up in the lap of George Osborne. He feeds her a Corbyn bone and she gnaws at it savagely.’

‘She is a self centred witch’

‘daddy donates to red tories..’

‘Look at that mouth. It matches the rhetoric.’

‘VILE EVIL COLLABORATOR WITCH!!!’

‘she’s rubbish – bring back Nick Robinson’ (Who also has a politically biased opinion … but is safely male?)

‘If she were an ex-, you’d have taken out a restraining order – her Twitter feed reads like a stalker obsessed with Corbyn.’

So only one sexist comment, then?

We should have a zero tolerance approach to any form of sexist language. Here we have the continual reference to ‘this woman’ (would you say ‘this man’?), the comments on her physical appearance, her father, clear sexual innuendo and the old favourite, comparing her to a witch (witch-hunt anyone?). It’s the same effect as calling girls and women ‘bossy’.  The language is based in negative gender assumptions, and it creates a negative discourse.

It’s a very significant issue that we think we can talk about women in this way (and defend others talking about women in this way).  Arguably, this is actually a bigger, more destructive and socially ingrained problem than one person’s reporting of one politician.  Because if we let this way of speaking continue, about any woman, whatever her perspective, it harms all women, for a long time, and shapes the language we use about women in all contexts.  Check yourself!  And the language you use and support.

What’s Left?

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The image above has been doing the rounds of social media, and speaks strongly to the moment at which the British (or English) left – for which read (or do not read) ‘the Labour Party’ – finds itself in the wake of last Thursday’s General Election. It purports to map the locations of coalfields at the dawn of the Labour movement to those places in England and Wales which voted Labour in 2015, a hundred years later (I say ‘purports’, because, as Newsnight’s Duncan Weldon has usefully collated, Mike Bird has effectively shown how the image is misleading). The left posts this image online as if to say, “You see? Class matters, and we forget it at our peril;” the right shares it around to emphasise just how inadequate Old Labour is to the task of governing contemporary Britain. That one image can be interpreted in two such different ways, or at least be made to serve arguments so clearly opposed, says it all about the post-Miliband – perhaps the post-Blair – Labour Party. It lacks a compass: on the blasted heath of the British left, north can very often be south.

This is why Sam Fawcett at The State of the Left in England can justifiably say, on the subject of the current hand-wringing within Labour about the timetable for the election of a new leader, “The left are saying ‘we weren’t left enough’, the right are saying ‘we weren’t right enough’ and the centre are trying desperately to defend their platform after suffering the worst defeat since 1983 on it. The difference between a long debate and a short one is either we hear this for two months or we hear it for six months.” This is a position backed up by the experience of recent history. It is apparent that the Tory campaign (of which more later) was brutishly effective at hammering home the conception of voting Labour as a risk to economic stability; it could only do so, as Flip Chart Fairy Tales amply demonstrates – with graphs! – because, during the long leadership election of 2010, the Conservatives were given all the time in the world to spin a more or less fictional story about the 2008 crash and the defecit:

If Gordon Brown had not run deficits in the early and mid 2000s, the public debt might now be a little less, but not much. Most of the sharp increase [in] debt came about as a result of the recession. But politics is just as important as economics and the Conservatives won the politics hands down before Labour had realised what was going on. A lot of people are still convinced that the Blair and Brown governments were responsible for the rapid increase in debt in the late 2000s. It will take a long time for Labour to persuade them otherwise. If it ever does.

Already this is happening again: David Cameron opened his first Tory Cabinet by claiming that his was the party for ‘real’ working people; and he has appointed a minister, no less, for Osborne’s pet project, the Northern Powerhouse. With UKIP – who, Nafeez Ahmend’s conspiracy-theory thinking aside, are far closer to outriders for the Tory party than not – clearly eating into Labour’s working-class vote in cities further north of the Trent where many Conservatives daren’t tread, already the stage is being set for a repeat of 2010’s agenda-setting: if you want a vision of the long leadership campaign future, imagine a Tory stamping on a Labour face – for six months.

So let’s think shorter. I’ll put that graph to the right for now, because it’s worth remembering: UK debt was lower than many other major economies’, and it rose precisely in line with everyone else’s. Labour failed to make this case quickly and confidently enough, and in so doing it lost the election. At Policy Network, Patrick Diamond puts it plainly: “Miliband’s team believed an appeal to people’s living standards could trump the core issue of credibility. It would draw a line under the 2008 financial crisis, turning the page on New Labour. The problem was that voters still blamed the previous government for the crash.” This is absolutely key: it doesn’t particularly matter how left- or right-wing you are if you cannot either change or engage with the core argument of an election campaign, and the central concerns of the voters. There is a fairly apolitical, numbers-based argument to be made against the Conservative narrative of Labour failure post-2008; had Labour made it, it may also have been able then to make the weather. But it didn’t – and it risks doing the same now.

The Green’s Molly Scott Cato has received an awful lot of signal amplification for a piece in the New Statesman in which she argues that Labour’s key mistake has been, time and again, not just to fail to challenge but to accept the Conservative narrative: “His decision to resign instantly following the announcement of the result is being interpreted as indicating his nobility, but accepting that Labour was roundly defeated on Thursday is just another example of how Labour has accepted the narrative of its opponents.” Some think Miliband should instead have ‘done a Michael Howard’, remaining as a caretaker and thus allowing the party to fully debate its future – a process from which David Cameron emerged. That is not the world in which we live, however, and, as the Fabians’ Andrew Harrop has pointed out, recovery for Labour is difficult however long the leadership contest and whoever wins it; so it’s brass-tacks time: where next?

Cato, like Andy Beckett in the Guardian, now believes that Lynton Crosby is an evil genius, deliberately fooling us all into thinking the Tory campaign was poor, and ensuring voters scared by neck-and-neck polls would, in the handful of crucial marginal seats, break for the Tories. Certainly the campaign was not the all-conquering success we are now encouraged to believe it to be: the Tory share of the vote went up less in England than Labour’s; only 700,000 more people voted Conservative than in 2010. They did so, however, where it matters: small swings to Labour in safe Tory seats such as Daventry (0.8%!), or constituencies long red such as Michael Dugher’s (“Working-class voters are not core vote any more,” the pit-lad made good bemoans), barely matter; holding vote-share in marginals like Warwickshire North, and ensuring significant shifts to the Tories in Liberal Democrat citadels, is what pushed them over the line. This is attritional electoral warfare fought in the maddening context of First Past the Post.

So Labour should, perhaps, start by mending fences and proposing political reform that would ensure cynicism such as Crosby’s can no longer make the difference in who rules Britain. Labour face a generational challenge in Scotland, and yet the SNP need not be their enemy: Paul Hutcheon’s excellent inside story from the Labour campaign in Scotland shows just how ham-fisted the worst of tribal Labour can be (“He has big ideas,” one source says of Scottish Labour leader Jim Murphy, “and a big reputation, but it turns out he doesn’t understand Scottish politics and can’t get anyone to play for him”). This sort of stuff has to stop if Labour isn’t to continue to haemorrhage votes in Scotland; likewise, making common cause with the Greens – allying a vision of the future with a party of governance – could pay real dividends.

But in another way this left-wing coalition is the pipe-dreams of a Jon Trickett tilt at the leadership. Labour must look both ways. It did not pull enough votes away from the Tories; it actually lost votes to UKIP, especially in the north. That is, to quote the historian Dominic Sandbrook, “the British people don’t like hectoring left-wing politicians telling us how to run our lives.” Though Ed Miliband improved his dire poll ratings during the campaign, he came across on the BBC’s Question Time programme a week before the vote very much as an academic giving a series of lectures . He was asked tough questions by an audience in little mood to hear why they were wrong about how they perceived the world; Miliband’s apparent inability to explain why Labour did not over spend whilst also acknowledging voters’ fears is a big reason why the Labour campaign failed. It would not meet people in the middle – it was convinced they would come to it, that they would turn left. Without a reason to do so, without an understanding of why Miliband believed what he did, they would not.

And thus the clarion calls for the party to move rightwards now. In one sense, this is bizarre, as if Miliband ran a Marxist campaign. On immigration, he did not; on benefits, he did not. Rather, the problem was at least in part one of communication as much as substance, a muddiness of argument powered by a nervy pick ‘n’ mix approach to policy. Take this analysis by Business Insider of what is now government policy on free childcare: “It’s probably an indicator of just how bad Labour was at communicating with voters prior to the election that the Tory pledge was for a straight doubling of care to 30 hours, whereas the Labour pledge was an increase to 25 hours plus some other hours if you qualified via a set of definitions.” Business Inside too right-wing for you? IPSOS-MORI say that left-wing voters stayed at home rather than respond to the Labour campaign, too. Worried that’s being reported in the Telegraph? Even Owen Jones understands that Labour has failed to make aspiration its own, when it absolutely must: “Don’t let the apologists of the rich steal “aspiration” for their own purposes,” he says. “Reclaim it.”

To reiterate: from whatever angle you look at it, left or right, Miliband’s campaign failed to convince. “Much is made of the idea of ‘aspiration’ in politics,” says Kieran Pedley in an important post-mortem of the Labour campaign (also at The Staggers, Tim Bale is fair and balanced on the issue of Miliband’s personal culpability), “but this just means recognising what the public want from government and giving it to them. Labour still has a potential majority here.” So. What might left-wing aspiration look like?

umunna-mandelsonIt doesn’t look like Blairism anymore, that’s for sure: despite Peter Mandelson’s appearance on the Andrew Marr show this weekend, and then the bizarre decision by Chuka Umunna to allow himself to be seated next to the Prince of Darkness days before he clumsily announced his candidature for Labour leader on Tuesday, what worked twenty years ago will not today. Bar some waffling about ‘technology changing everything’ in that Marr interview, Umunna seems the back to the future candidate of this new election, insisting that the same triangulation that worked in the mid-nineties will pass now, too. That apparently entirely ignores the extent to which the electoral map of Britain has been chopped up by the 2015 General Election. Recovering from its butchery will take a new approach.

If not Umunna, then who? Liz Kendall, the neo-Blairite, is at least, as one of her supporters, Hopi Sen, archly implies, ideologically more consistent than the former Ed Miliband supporter Umunna, but she may lack gravitas. No others have yet declared, but of the hotly tipped runners and riders, Andy Burnham’s social conservatism lends the lie (for UKIP-bashing good or liberal-losing ill) to his left-wing reputation, whilst Yvette Cooper kept so low a profile in the last parliament that it’s hard to know what to make of her current political position. In other words, no leadership candidate is currently expressing a positive vision of Labour’s future – and, by extension and crucially, the country’s. We should give them time, of course, but there cannot be another failure to engage with what the electorate want, and to explain how – inevitably, given their continued narrow focus – the Tories do not and cannot fulfil those aims.

David Cameron is a PR man to the last: he knows how to govern only in so far as he knows how to campaign for his party via legislation. That requires a robust and powerful vision, whoever becomes leader. A battle-line of this Parliament will be rights and protections – human ones, trades union ones, ones provided by EU regulations. There is anger in the ‘traditional working-class’ about all of these; a Labour leader must simultaneously be able to deal with that scepticism and make the case that it is within the context of rights we all share that aspiration can be most easily achieved. The Tories are committed already to paring back these protections, and they will do so by repeating their General Election trick of fear-mongering; it will be a Labour leader’s job to show how improving one’s lot does not involve reducing the lot of others – or the eventual Pastor Niemöller-like reduction of your own.

Right-wing aspiration is about brute individualism, whatever its One Nation dressing; Left-wing aspiration is about environment (and I evoke the Green agenda deliberately). The new Labour leader will need to show they understand how to craft, argue for and create the conditions in which all can experience success – and yet all can also feel secure. Those are not conditions they will inherit, and so the question is not one of Blairite or Brownite, right or left. It is one of remodelling – and of accessible, pluralist radicalism. The electorate are not stupid, and nor are they students. But they do need to be convinced – and, whilst the Labour right has no monopoly on communication, the left needs to accept it is not impure.

 

A Tide in the Affairs of Men

2015 MapWho would have predicted that? I would like to claim prescience, and might at least suggest I thought the Tories would out-perform the polls – “I expect a surprise mini-swing to the Conservatives which may allow them to cobble together a wafer-thin majority with the Liberal Democrats,” I wrote, but in the event the Tories actually have a wafer-thin majority without Nick Clegg’s party. Indeed, what everyone seems to have missed is the extent to which the Liberal Democrats would fall: their reduction to just eight MPs – to list them in full just because I can, John Pugh (maj. 1322), Greg Mulholland (2907), Alistair Carmichael (817), Tom Brake (1510), Clegg (2353), Norman Lamb (4043), Tim Farron (8949), and Mark Williams (3067) – has powered the Tory dash across the line.

A left-winger might be tempted to feel some satisfaction at this whipping of the treacherous ‘Liberals’. This is foolish: Clegg made a huge mistake in 2010 (whatever guff we continue to hear about the national interest back then), but his party did not deserve in recompense a stiffing by the very Coalition partner they have propped up for five long, gruelling years. One of my two eternal verities of British politics from that previous post – never write off the Tories – has been proven as potent as ever in the party’s ruthless pursuit of yellow seats.

So, too, however, has my second: never underestimate the capacity of the Labour Party to alienate its allies. In Scotland, a generation of errors has resulted in wipe-out; in the south of England, and whilst Liberal Democrat voters did swing by ten per cent to a Labour campaign that had contempt for Clegg, it did not bring Miliband many seats; in the north and the Midlands, the long-ignored white working-class constituency broke for UKIP, ensuring the Tory vote stayed steady enough to hold on in even the most marginal of marginals, such as Warwickshire North. The social democratic majority Miliband and Stewart Wood thought they could construct has been repelled by their advances. Labour has won seats in London and actually modestly increased its share of the vote in England; but it has failed to win seats, and that is the game.

That means two things: first, that strategically the Tories did something right; and secondly, electoral reform remains necessary but, due to the scale of Tory success, is more distant now than yesterday – regardless of the strange bedfellows on this matter UKIP and the Liberal Democrats now seem to be. Let’s talk strategy: Lynton Crosby has got a lot of stick during this campaign, including from me, but his anodyne air war – which seems to have been effective at least in defining a narrative which worried many about the mess a Labour minority government would represent – seems to have hidden an astute, if cynical, target seat strategy. In the south east, for example, nothing changed – except that every Lib Dem seat went blue. This is not a Tory rout so much as a Lib Dem and Labour collapse; the Tory strategy was to create the environment for this – Scottish anger, Coalition blowback – and control the bleed of UKIP voters to the right. It worked, better than I suspect even George Osborne thought it might.

That leaves Labour facing five terrible years: in the north, UKIP are chewing up their vote, and in its Deputy Leader, Paul Nuttall, may have a successor to the half-resigned Nigel Farage who can extend UKIP beyond the south-east. In Scotland, this election is epoch-making: Scottish Labour has haemorrhaged its big beasts and has an anaemic talent base beneath them. And the Tories, of course, have won England decisively, with about 40% of the popular vote. That puts David Cameron in particular in an unassailable position, and – following his centrist pose on the steps of Downing Street this morning – during which speech he thanked Clegg, paid generous tribute to Miliband, and promised homes, jobs and devomax – he will use the EU referendum to keep his backbenchers on the right quiet for the first twelve months of this government. Though Labour will want to have a quick leadership election in an attempt to avoid the same six-month breathing room Cameron had in 2010, the Tory leader will during this period have a good chance of defining the terms of this Parliament, too, before stepping down after 2017.

The one important question which might prevent Cameron having it quite this easy (and his policy in-tray, from Scotland to the EU, should not be easy to deal with) is Labour’s relationship with the SNP: there will be a temptation further to demonise the SNP, who have driven down Labour’s share of the Scottish vote to 1918 levels; but common cause is now essential, both to Labour’s future in Scotland and the UK’s wider politics at Westminster. Labour has lost very many MPs on its right – Alexander, Murphy, Currie and even Balls, whose attraction to austerity was always greater than Miliband’s – and this sloughing of baggage should be taken as an opportunity not, of course, to submit to nationalism … but to establish a meaningful relationship with a party whose greatest threat is to come to be seen as part of the machinery it has for so long railed against.

That is, in one sense this is a new Britain: liberalism on its last legs, a rump Labour party, a new Scottish voice, and even a vocal, if under-represented-in-Parliament, English nationalism. But in other ways it is a very familiar one: a Tory government, confident of its right and mandate to rule; and a Labour opposition wondering dolefully which way to turn. In an oddly unreflective resignation speech at lunchtime, Ed Miliband said change is made by people, not leaders; but, as Cameron or Osborne might toast themselves this evening in Downing Street, plus ça change, plus c’est la mĂȘme chose.