Category Archives: the local news

Yer Blues(3): Why a branch?

23 December 2025 – 17:13

At the moment the main topic of discussion in Your Party circles – at least, the ones I know about – is branch formation. Political direction, recruitment, campaigning, democratic accountability, undoing some of the damage that the leaders of the project have insisted on doing to their own reputation and ours – all these things will be easier to achieve once we’ve got ourselves organised in an actual, officially legitimated branch of Your Party.

Well, perhaps. But what do we mean by a branch?

Most fundamentally, a branch is defined by geography. If Party A has members in a lot of different places, it will make sense for Party A to set up branches in those places. The area covered by a party branch is inversely related to the size of party membership. If more or less everyone’s a member, it will make sense to have a branch for every street; if an organisation’s got members worldwide, but not very many of them in any one country, national branches (or ‘sections’) will be in order. Your Party has members throughout Britain, and has their details on a membership list (or so we’re told). It would be fairly straightforward to sort the membership list by post code, and from there it’s just a matter of grouping post codes together: every YP member in Manchester could be declared a member of the Manchester branch tomorrow. Alternatively, everyone in the Manchester Withington constituency area could be declared a member of the branch for that constituency; we could probably even go down to ward level, as the Labour Party (for one) does.

A branch considered only as a geographical unit wouldn’t really amount to anything – what would all those members do next? We can start fleshing out the definition by thinking of a branch as an interest group. ‘Interest’ here may mean ‘collective self-interest’ or just ‘finding something interesting’; either way, once you’ve identified everyone in a geographical area who considers themselves to share that interest, it’s reasonable to think they might want to meet up. The interest group is then defined by whatever it is they do to pursue their shared interest; crochet lovers get together to do (and talk about) crochet, trade union activists get together to do (and talk about) trade union activism. And when the nature of the shared interest is membership of a party, party members get together to do (and talk about)… party-member stuff.

Does that need to be defined any more precisely? Can we trust in the shared ethos and philosophy of the party, allow each branch party to be shaped by the particular shared interests of its activists, and let the national leadership get on with it unless and until they say something unacceptable? (I suspect this may be the stop where Green Party activists get off.) Or should we begin with a clear idea as to what party members should do – and how they should relate to the party hierarchy and its national representatives?

One option is to see a party branch as an electoral support system. The starting assumption here is that the party has an electoral candidate in a given area; party members in the branch for that area are there to try and make sure they get (re-)elected. And that goal defines what party members do. Campaigning in elections, canvassing voters before elections, canvassing voters in between elections to make the pre-election canvassing run more smoothly: when I was in the Labour Party, that was the bread and butter of branch activity. Indeed, there was very little else that my branch actually did – at least, very little of any political consequence.

This doesn’t sound like a great idea; it isn’t really possible for Your Party, in any case. At present all Your Party’s MPs and councillors are all either former independents or defectors from Labour; I don’t know who any future candidates will be, or how (or by whom) they’ll be selected. If we had a slate of Your Party candidates I’d be happy to canvass for them, once in a while, but that’s a long way off.

Another option is for a party branch to function as – or ideally to grow out of – a community organisation. The idea here is that a locally-based organisation could bring together activists in the area, across or outside party lines (initially at least), and that similar local organisations could federate, regionally and ultimately nationally, to form a new and more representative kind of political organisation. Bottom-up approaches like this seemed to be endorsed at different times by Jamie Driscoll (of Majority and the Green Party) and by Jeremy Corbyn who, after being re-elected as an independent in 2024, promised to build local mechanisms of feedback and accountability in his Islington constituency.

The problem with this model is self-evident: whether the existence of the new party is made to depend on the presence of community organisers or of active independent politicians, the short-term result will be extreme unevenness, leaving much, probably most, of the country untouched. This is not a recipe for building a national party; it’s not really a recipe for building anything, but (at best) for giving something an opportunity to grow – and in all probability to grow “vaster than empires and more slow”. (And, not to get all electoral-support-y, but there is going to be another General Election within the next few years, not to mention council elections next May.)

We could also embrace the “local branch/central hierarchy” structure and think of the party as a transmission belt. In this model (developed originally by Palmiro Togliatti), transmission is two-way. The party transmits the grounded radicalism of workers in struggle upwards to keep the leadership honest, preventing compromises and sellouts; at the same time, the party transmits the more developed programmes and longer perspectives of the leadership downwards, preventing hasty or adventurist action. It’s a two-way transmission of both ideology and discipline. The membership keep the leaders up to date and tell them what not to do (not to settle for less, not to sell out under-represented interest groups); in return, the leadership keeps the members focused on the longer term and tells them what not to do (not to make demands that can’t be met, not to alienate potential allies).

We might ask why having a transmission belt matters: if we’ve got a common philosophy and shared values, why do we also need the leadership’s thinking to be informed by what the members are doing, and vice versa? The answer is class, and the fact that any Left organisation is always at least partially prefigurative. In this model, the members whose radicalism is transmitted up the chain aren’t considered as random individuals who happen to be party members; they’re people active in trade unions, co-operatives, credit unions, campaigning charities. In short, they’re people actively building alternatives and challenges to capital and its status quo – and it’s the knowledge and experience built in those struggles that needs to inform the leadership’s decision-making.

I think something like this is in the minds of a lot of the people pushing for the establishment of YP branches. But the devil’s in the detail. The party transmits the leadership’s perspectives downwards, fair enough (although right now we could actually do with a steer on the leadership’s perspectives, beyond the perspective that things are generally going swimmingly). Transmitting the radicalism of workers upwards, though: how? How does the branch constitute itself as having a voice, and how does it make that voice heard?

An answer to that question – although not, I think, a very satisfactory one – is to build a formal apparatus for enabling branches to communicate with the centre, and integrate all branches into it. This leads to one last way of looking at party branches, which is to see them as hierarchical nodes. A vote in the ward party decides (or reaffirms) its position on policy A; delegates from the ward party argue for that policy at the level of the constituency party, where delegates from other wards vote for or against it; constituency parties send delegates to the national conference, where they argue for the policies they’ve adopted at national level. Ultimately, by filtering the most popular options upwards through multiple layers of electoral competition, the base governs the centre, steers party policy and determines who represents the party. The logic is simple, and will be only too familiar to anyone who’s been a member of the Labour Party (although Labour Party democracy hasn’t actually worked like this since the 1990s at the latest).

Two points need to be stressed here. Firstly, the corollary of these bottom-up mechanisms of accountability is a degree of democratic centralism: once a position has been adopted by a party centrally, the leadership has the right to expect that the position will be binding on the party at large (as does everyone who worked to commit them to the policy in question). What this means is that, once a debate or a candidate selection is settled, it stays settled, whatever an individual branch may feel about it (let alone an individual member); at least, it’s settled until the next appointed time for these issues to be debated. As well as governing the centre from below, these mechanisms discipline the membership from above.

Secondly, to say that bottom-up control begins with the branch ‘deciding’ its position is a bit misleading. While the branch is the base layer of the whole hierarchical structure, it’s also a hierarchical structure in itself: majority votes decide what position a branch will back, but those votes are the object of intense factional organising – never more intense than when undertaken by the faction that won last time round. Moreover, given the previous point – that settled issues stay settled – a member is unlikely to see a branch as a hive of debate; it’s more likely to present an image of mute, apolitical unity, with serious debate on policies and personnel seen not as a normal democratic function but as a threat to be fought off. You say “the branch reaffirmed its position”, I say “there were stirrings from the opposition, but the branch’s ruling group won the vote after they’d phoned round and got their friends out”. Potato, potahto.

To recap:

  1. The branch is an interest group: party members in particular areas get together and do, collectively, whatever they feel party members in their area ought to be doing.
  2. The branch is an electoral support system: party members in particular areas get together and work to get their party’s representatives elected and/or re-elected.
  3. The branch is a community organisation: party members are campaigners in particular areas, who get together to form a party out of a national federation of these organisations.
  4. The branch is a transmission belt: campaigners in particular areas get together and work to keep the party’s leadership aligned to the priorities of the working class in struggle.
  5. The branch is a hierarchical node: party members in particular areas get together and compete among themselves to represent their branch and to commit it to particular policies.

Labour Party branches, in my experience, are mostly amalgams of 1, 2 and 5. By contrast, the ideal image of a Your Party branch, when the party was first proposed, was a combination of 1, 3 and 4: local, grassroots, community-based activists would be in the driving seat, whether they were organised independently of YP or not. We can see traces of this way of thinking in the proposal, approved by YP’s recent founding conference, to give YP members the ability to form a local branch, subject to the real-time agreement of 20% of the branch’s membership in the relevant area. While this provision might seem to have an obvious flaw – how can you mobilise 20%, or any significant %, of the branch’s membership if you haven’t got the membership list? – this can also be seen as a safeguard. If you’ve got a community organisation (model 3) you can contact like-minded people through that; if not, you can reach out to workers in struggle (model 4), who will either join YP on the spot or already be members. If you don’t know where to start with either of those routes, well, maybe your area isn’t ready to form a branch.

Meanwhile back in the outside world, preparations for forming branches are proceeding apace – and not only branches; there are already cross-branch co-ordinating bodies bringing together delegates from individual branches (although I’m not sure what the status of those delegates is when they haven’t been elected, not least because their branches don’t actually exist yet). The thinking seems to be that building a hierarchical node (and occupying positions within it) is a good idea in itself, irrespective of whether YP is or isn’t in touch with what’s going on in the area, and hence irrespective of whether the prospective branch is likely to be able to function as a transmission belt. In some cases, the drive to form these – both the individual proto-branches and the cross-branch networks – has been pushed by members of some of the small non-electoral socialist groups that have committed to working in YP, notably the Socialist Workers Party and their offshoot Counterfire. Which suggests an additional, more cynical definition:

  1. The branch (like the party itself) is a position of influence which may be occupied by one of a number of rival groups and factions, amplifying their voice and their ability to intervene in the broader struggle.

I’m not a member of Your Party; the anxiety which the period of rival membership portals caused me, and the relief I felt when I considered the possibility of not joining, made my decision for me. For those who are – and those who, like me, are still on the party’s periphery – I think the branch formation process is going to be critical; I think we should do whatever we can to make our local branch(-to-be) more like a transmission belt to whatever’s going on locally, and less like a hierarchical node in a structure like an organisational chart, all ready for local party veterans to move in once they can swing the necessary votes. I am absolutely not in favour of barring members of revolutionary socialist groups in general from YP, or even the Socialist Workers Party in particular. However, I am also absolutely not in favour of rerunning the Socialist Alliance/Respect/Left List débacle with Zarah Sultana in the role of George Galloway – and I think this is a genuine danger if we give free rein to time-served party activists in search of positions of influence, and let YP branches drift into the hierarchical node form. I hate to say it, but I really think we need to go to the people, or at least think seriously about what that would mean. (It’s not language I like using – I can’t honestly say I’ve never been a Maoist, but it was a very long time ago – but when they’re right, they’re right.)

PS Which also means that I’m not in favour of drumming up enough names to reach the 20% threshold out of our existing WhatsApp lists.

  1. A branch is not a WhatsApp list.
By Phil | Also posted in awfully deep, class, pinkoes, politics | Comments (0)

Yer Blues(2): The local news

10 November 2025 – 14:14

1. Where I’m Coming From

As (very) long-term readers will know, I joined the Labour Party in 2015, shortly after voting for Jeremy Corbyn in the ‘registered supporters’ section of the leadership election. Like most people, I didn’t expect Corbyn to win. I committed to becoming a full member after the election in any case, in the hope of taking part in the bottom-up revitalisation of the party that his campaign seemed to herald.

He won, of course, which was great, but even after that I couldn’t see much sign of the party being revitalised. Certainly not locally; I went to a party meeting or two and found the vibe rather routine and self-satisfied – very much as if Corbyn’s election hadn’t changed anything. I stopped going and went back to social media. Then, about six months after I’d joined, I got a call from an unknown number. “Is that Phil? I believe you joined the Labour Party recently… Could I just ask, do you support Jeremy Corbyn?” And a big sigh of relief when I said Yes.

The thing is, you can’t revitalise the party from the bottom up as individual members; you need to do it collectively. But you can’t do anything collectively unless you can bring enough people together – and to do that you need to know who those people are. The local party leadership, of course, knew perfectly well who had joined the party recently and how to get in touch with them – but the local party leadership didn’t intend to use that information (other than to invite the newcomers to party meetings and socials), and they certainly weren’t going to share it. So left-wing members wishing to contact similar – and knowing damn well that several hundred similar had recently arrived – were reduced to scrounging contact details from a whole variety of sources (a Momentum appeal on Facebook in my case), and tentatively asking unfamiliar party members whether, no offence intended and don’t take this the wrong way, they might perhaps be a supporter of… the person just elected leader with 59.5% of the vote.

As well as holding the mailing list, the local leadership clique had the incumbency advantage. This is a killer for anyone trying to win the votes of less informed and/or less motivated voters; think of it as the “seems to be doing a reasonably good job, seems nice enough and lots of people seem to support him/her” advantage. In my ward, at least, they also had a strong networking advantage – as I discovered the day a perfect stranger, who I’d seen at the odd meeting, wandered up to me at the bus stop and asked if I was still working at the same place. We had quite a nice chat, but I never found the words to say “who are you and how do you know me?”. (The person in question would later be Chair of the local branch; talking it over with a friend in the Left group, we worked out that our mutual friend was probably the father of a kid who’d been a friend of one of my kids, five or six years earlier (hence “are you still” etc, I guess).) One way and another, anyway, the clique were several steps ahead of us, so – despite theoretically having numbers to spare – we never did manage to revitalise the Labour Party in Chorlton. We got close once, relatively early on, but not close enough (search term: “rinsed”).

2. Where We Got To

I’m not going to say that the real revitalisation of the Labour Party was the friends we made along the way – we were defeated by the Labour Right, repeatedly, and it wasn’t good. But I did make friends along the way, and that’s not nothing. Specifically, I became part of a network of people in the Withington constituency, mainly organised through a range of WhatsApp groups. (The Withington constituency includes Chorlton, Didsbury, and Old Moat as well as Withington itself.) While to begin with we were all members of the Labour Party, under Starmer’s leadership some of us were expelled and most of the rest drifted away. When a few of us met up in person a couple of months ago, it was quite noticeable that almost nobody was still in the party – nobody, that is, apart from the people who’d managed to get elected to the council before the tide went out.

But the network endured – even when it had outlived its original purpose of organising within the Labour Party – and the first meeting of people interested in Your Party in the Withington constituency grew out of this network. The first thing we did was introduce ourselves – yes, the old ‘go round the circle and say something about yourself’ routine – but, rather brilliantly, we were instructed to keep things moving by only giving three pieces of information: our name, our pronouns and our political affiliation. So I can say with some confidence that there were people there from RS21, Counterfire, the Socialist Workers Party and another couple of groups, as well as several like me whose group affiliations are in the past (Socialist Society/Socialist Movement 1987-95, Labour Party 2015-24 and, er, that’s it).

The rest of the meeting was more practical. With a bit of help from facilitators we surfaced several issues and clusters of issues, enabling people to form sub-groups to pursue them – in the meeting and, more importantly, afterwards. I thought I could make the biggest contribution to the group focusing on party structure, which at that point I saw as three inter-related questions: how the new party should be structured (branches etc); how it actually was structured, if only by default (i.e. who was running the show and how); and how members could feed back their ideas on (a) into the apparatus of (b). As we’ll see in the next post, this question isn’t so much difficult to resolve as difficult to define at all, and there’s scope for an awful lot of bootstrapping and recursion – how to set up structures to enable not-yet-branches to hold the not-yet-centre accountable for the mechanisms it establishes for the formation of true branches empowered to hold the centre to account… To take only the most obvious issue, there’s no easy answer to the chicken-and-egg “the centre is accountable to the branches”/”the branches are authorised by the centre” question. But it’s probably not realistic to take the process as slowly and incrementally as it really deserves to be taken, and I suspect the knot is going to get cut one way or another (and probably without any input from me).

We also began planning for a public meeting where Your Party would be launched on the people of Withington: this, rather than the meeting of our (literally) self-selected group, would mark the true foundation of YP in Withington constituency. What follows is almost entirely second-hand, as I wasn’t involved in planning this meeting – in fact I didn’t even go to it. Digressing slightly, I had a strong emotional reaction to the 2017 election – and an equally strong reaction to the 2019 defeat, which hit me like the loss of a friend. (Which, for anyone lucky enough not to have experienced bereavement, doesn’t mean ‘I felt very sad’; I did, obviously, but it was much worse than that.) My response to the launch of the YP mailing list was euphoric – echoes of July 2017 – and I went to the inaugural meeting on a high. After that, though – and particularly after the membership portal débacle – I started getting 2019 flashbacks, and started keeping a bit of a distance from YP for the sake of my own wellbeing.

The meeting was held in a bar’s function room; misgivings about meeting on licensed premises (would we put off observant Muslims? would the meeting be disrupted by drunks?) were addressed by having the towels put on during the meeting. In passing, I think these worries may have been a bit overdone. It seems to me that there aren’t likely to be many people interested in the explicitly non-religious Your Party who are also sufficiently devout not to want to set foot in a pub – and I strongly suspect that there’s a swathe of people on the Left who would actually prefer at least some of their meetings to be held in pubs.

Anyway, the lack of booze didn’t stop the meeting being a success in the obvious ways; it was well-attended and there were plenty of contributions from the floor. What turned out to be more problematic was a decision that had seemed like a no-brainer: both Corbyn and Sultana were going to be in the Northwest around the time we were meeting, why not get one of them along? A date was agreed with Sultana, the meeting was advertised on social media and tickets flew out. Which was great, except that having Sultana’s name on it made the meeting attractive to a slightly different, and much wider, range of people – and we didn’t have any way of limiting attendance to potential members of a Withington constituency YP branch. In retrospect I think we could have thought more about the potential mismatch between online organisation, publicity and ticketing, on one hand, and organising a face-to-face group within the geographical unit of a constituency, on the other – and between a meeting of Withington YP supporters and a YP supporters’ meeting in Withington.

Hindsight’s a wonderful thing! In any case, what took place was by all accounts the second kind of meeting, not the first. People did try to use the Q&A constructively, by getting answers from Sultana to some of the difficult questions – particularly around party structure – but without much success; she’s a politician, after all. At the end of the night it was a successful meeting, but it wasn’t the founding event for a party branch; the branch, at the time of writing, remains un-founded.

But what do we need a branch for? See next post.

 

 

By Phil | Also posted in big stuff, pinkoes | Comments (1)

On barons and libraries

9 October 2025 – 14:11

Here are two thoughts that occurred to me recently. They’re not obviously connected, but I’ll see if I can do something to tie them together when we get to part 3.

1. There Are Always Barons

Even the most autocratic ruler has to delegate. Kings and queens are all very well, but no one can actually rule a country on their own (there’s Dunbar’s number to think about, for one thing). They may delegate in ways that give occupants of the lower levels in the hierarchy little or no autonomy, making them effectively mouthpieces of the sovereign, but they will delegate to someone. There’s a persuasive argument, put forward by Lon Fuller (and probably others), that rigidly controlled delegation drastically reduces the efficiency of the overall system – that even an autocrat will be better, more efficiently, served by allowing some play in the organisational joints, meaning that an effective autocrat is a contradiction in terms – but I’m not concerned with that here. Good or bad, there is always delegation.

However much, or little, autonomy they have, there are always barons. Barons may reach their position by different routes. They may have started out as rulers in their own right – local sovereigns, in effect – whose territories were later absorbed into the overall sovereign’s domain; the sovereign may even have emerged out of their ranks. In one sense there’s a big difference between barons of this type and those who are raised and appointed by the sovereign – who are ‘created’, as they say, to answer the sovereign’s requirements. We could reserve the term ‘baron’ for the first-among-equals kind and call the centrally-appointed-governor type something else; ‘prefects’, perhaps. But for the purposes of the current argument they can all go in the same category. My sense is, in any case, that the function of these two groups is quite similar, and the nature of that role – to administer a population and keep the peace in the sovereign’s name – is such as to demand attentiveness both to the sovereign’s requirements and the happiness of the population, encouraging barons to become prefects and prefects to become barons.

There are always barons; there’s always somebody whose job it is to assert the will of the sovereign to the people, even impose it on them. What you won’t always find is anyone asserting the will of the people to the sovereign. (I stress ‘asserting’. A baron who’s good at their job will communicate the will of the people upwards, and a sovereign who’s good at theirs will want to hear it. But, if you’re the sovereign, hearing from a baron that the people are on the brink of revolting is very different from getting that same message from the people.)

In other words, there are always barons, but there aren’t always democrats. We have democrats now, of course: what else was the Labour Party founded for? Right across the political spectrum, in fact, we tend not to think of our politicians as barons; we think of them as democrats, representatives of the people. And it’s true that the MP for Manchester Central and the Mayor of Greater Manchester have a better claim to democratic legitimacy than the High Sheriff of Lancashire. But they’re both part of a governing apparatus; as such they’re only functioning as democrats when – and to the extent that – they’re implementing, or demanding, measures demanded of them by their voters. The rest of the time – when they’re working in ‘top down’ mode – they’re not democrats at all: they’re barons, and as such no different from the various unelected ‘senior figures’ in which our political system abounds (party apparatchiks, Prime Ministerial appointees and the unchanging, irremovable ranks of the “great and good“).

In particular, there’s nothing democratic about a politician pursuing policies for which their supporters didn’t vote, or simply continuing to develop the policies of a previous government. The fact that those politicians ultimately derived their position from a democratic vote doesn’t change this. Democratic legitimacy isn’t like a Blue Peter badge, gained once and displayed ever after; in fact it’s not a property of a person at all, even in their capacity as holder of a political role. What is or isn’t democratically legitimate is what those individuals do and say. And, just as barons take on the attributes of prefects (and vice versa), a democrat elected into the role of a baron will come under immediate and sustained pressure to act like a baron and think like a baron: by all means listen to your constituents’ complaints, pass them upwards if they merit it, but don’t get carried away thinking that they’re telling you what to do. You’re far more important than that: you’re a member of the government!

MPs, Mayors, even local councillors: none of them will operate as democrats unless at least one of two conditions obtain. One is a genuine commitment on their part to work democratically. The other condition, by far the more important of the two, is the regular assertion of democratic demands to them – which in practice means the existence of mechanisms for articulating those demands, telling representatives what their voters and supporters want from them. We need better MPs (although I’m sure yours is lovely), but more importantly we need better mechanisms for articulating popular demands: for keeping democrats democratic. Otherwise, whether politicians start out as rough-edged democrats or as TV personalities will ultimately be irrelevant: they’ll all be buffed to a baronial shine, as they are socialised on and into the job. As my English tutor in college once said, people who say they’ll “show you how to do it” are really offering to “show you how to do what you do because that’s how you do it”. And in British politics, the baronial element of “how you do it” has been being practiced for an awful lot longer than the democratic element.

2. When It’s Ajar

On a separate subject, we visited our local library the other day. It was unplanned, and I ended up borrowing five books without having my card on me, which was neat. All it took was for a member of staff to take my details, look them up on two separate PCs, key in the 13-digit number that was eventually displayed, then hit several separate keys for each book. (Rather hard, I thought, but by then perhaps that was understandable.)

But this isn’t about IT. Two things struck me about the library, that Saturday morning. One was how busy it was; the place was buzzing, with free tea and coffee on offer in one section, kids playing and running around in another section (well, mostly in that section), and people sitting reading the papers in the middle area. They’ve had a refurb recently, which included replacing the rather nondescript children’s section with an area clearly designed for (small) kids – complete with a slide – and in terms of footfall it’s really paid off.

The other thing that struck me was that we were the only two people in the place looking at books. I’m not saying the noise put people off, or the occasional two-year-old underfoot – I’ll admit that the ambience was a big change from libraries as I’ve known and loved them, but it didn’t stop me browsing (five books borrowed). The thing is, looking at books didn’t seem to be what anyone else had come there for.

Which got me thinking. Say there’s an institution with a core competence: not necessarily what it does best or what its people most love doing, but the thing that only it does; the thing that, if it wasn’t there, wouldn’t get done. Suppose you run a textile museum specialising in, and offering expert insights into, a type of woollen cloth which was once widely produced in the local area and is now largely forgotten. You’ve got a café, but it’s small – but then, the premises are small, and the rest of the floor space is taken up by exhibition space, curators’ workshops and offices. The whole place is looking a bit dingy these days, to be honest; it’s all in need of sprucing up.

You get a grant to renovate the premises – great news! But then someone proposes channelling the money into expanding the café, redecorating the galleries with whatever’s left. The textiles are the core function, the café is strictly an extra, and up to now you’ve been able to operate on that basis; now, you’re told, things have changed, and you need to embrace that change.

What is it that’s changed, though? Is it:

  1. The nature of the core function (the extras are no longer extras, full stop)
  2. The nature of the business (extras are no longer extras, for the well-being of this institution)
  3. The nature of the audience (extras are no longer extras, for them)
  4. The sustainability of the audience (the extras are still extras, and they’ll complement the core function)

In other words, which of these are we saying?

  1. “Textile appreciation used to be very much a solitary pursuit, but now it’s much more social – after people have looked at fabric samples all afternoon they want somewhere to sit and have a chat and a pot of tea.”
  2. “In this world it’s all about footfall: the curators are lovely people, but if we’re going to get people through the door we need to offer more than a lot of old shawls.”
  3. “Textiles are great, textiles are brilliant – I’m just saying that younger people won’t set foot in the place unless they can get a decent cup of coffee.”
  4. “A really good café can bring people in from miles around – and once they’ve seen the galleries, some of them’ll come back!”

I think that argument 1, while the example above is fairly silly, is the strongest of all of these; certainly it’s the only one that institutions absolutely need to pay attention to. Returning to libraries, books are still pretty much books, but the whole ‘reference’ function of libraries has been at best transformed, at worst made obsolete, by pervasive Internet access. Sometimes the nature of an institution’s core function does change, and the institution needs to change with it. Which isn’t to say that arguments made in this form should always be taken seriously – see silly example above.

Argument 2 is at the opposite pole to argument 1, despite the superficial similarity of the phrasing (above). Rather than embrace the core function in principle (while asserting that the way it is carried out needs to change), argument 2 starts from the managerial and/or commercial needs of the institution. In any institution with a core function, particularly those with trained and professional expert staff, the core function is, well, core. The institution will need to be able to keep its lights on, hitting a minimum threshold of commercial viability (or whatever shadow measure of virtual commercial success the managers of non-fee-charging institutions are held to) – but a minimum is what it is. In argument 2, though, commercial viability and the core function have swapped places: keeping the punters coming has become the core function, while the original core – the thing that only you do – is simply a lingering contractual obligation, to be performed up to an agreed service level alongside other, more productive stuff.

Argument 3 seems a less drastic contrast. Indeed, superficially it looks persuasive, even democratic: you may be able to study textiles all day on a Tracker bar and a swig from a water fountain, but we’ve got to listen to our visitors! On closer inspection, though, it’s incoherent: if the core function is still the most important thing, you can’t really argue that that it needs to give ground to the provision of extras. It’s an unstable hybrid of arguments 1 and 2: either the core function is still paramount but now includes extras (argument 1), or providing the extras is just as important as the core function (argument 2).

Argument 4 takes a more upbeat approach: the core function is still the core function, and there’s no conflict between it and the extras, because the extras will attract people who will use the core function! In practical terms I think this is highly unlikely to work, unless the extras are very carefully chosen – and how likely is it that you’ll be able to offer ‘extras’ that are both (a) complementary to your decreasingly-popular core function and (b) popular in their own right? Again, this is basically splitting the difference between arguments 1 and 2, attempting to argue that the business has fundamentally changed but not so as to dethrone the core function.

So no, I don’t think the renovation money should go on the café. Well, maybe some of it. We can envisage an extended version of argument 1 (argument 1a): even if the core function hasn’t changed, that minimum threshold of commercial or pseudo-commercial viability still needs to be hit, and there may have been a change in what that minimum threshold requires. But even this – the argument for at least getting a coffee machine to supplement that old tea urn – needs handling with caution. Once you cut loose from argument 1, argument 2 is always lying in wait (it’s all too plausible in our society), and there are no reliable stopping-points between the two.

As for what I saw last weekend in the library, I don’t think there was much of an argument-1 or even argument-1a justification for the changes that have been made – any justification for having all that activity take place in a library. I think a managerial variant of argument 2 had won hands down: essentially I wasn’t in a library, I was in a (hitherto under-utilised) council-run public space with certain shareable resources, including books. And that space was being very effectively used, to the general satisfaction of all concerned. But that’s the thing about argument 2: it tends to deliver, because it works by redefining what ‘deliver’ means. And that redefinition can happen quite gradually, by way of arguments that seem entirely reasonable (e.g. arguments 3 and 4).

3. Faced With The Choice

I think what the two parts of this post have in common is that they’re both about the path of least resistance, and an odd disconnect in the way we think about it. We recognise intellectually that people, in a whole range of situations, tend to take the path of least resistance, or at any rate one of the paths of lesser resistance. But the idea of taking the p. of l. r. is still stigmatised: we assume that you or I would make the right choice, would choose the best out of several equivalent options.

The disconnect is in the failure to take into consideration the key fact about paths of lesser resistance: they’re easy to take. Some things – some options, some ways of achieving a desirable result – are easier than others, and doing easy things is easier than doing hard things. Indeed, all other things being equal, the fact that one option’s easier than the other is a good reason for taking it.

In practice all other things generally aren’t equal – but there are always easier and harder options, and easy options (to restate the point) aren’t called that because they’re shallow or ill-thought-out, but simply because they’re easy to take. And, to add yet another statement of the obvious, consistently taking the hard option is hard. Particularly when the easy option is well-argued, and the hard option seems dogmatic or puritanical.

Keeping a library focused on books – or a museum on curation, or a university on research – isn’t at all the same thing as keeping an MP (or a mayor, or a councillor) focused on the needs of their voters: one’s about asserting professional and craft standards over commercial requirements, the other’s about asserting democratic demands over the requirements of government. But, as things are, they’re both hard choices [sic]. More importantly, they’re choices that need to be made over and over again: the countervailing pressure to take the easy option is always there. As a wise man once said, there is no final victory, as there is no final defeat; just the same battle, to be fought over and over again.

 

By Phil | Also posted in awfully deep, Britain, cheery thoughts, culture, everyday life, history, pinkoes, politics | Comments (0)

Should I stay or…

24 March 2024 – 16:33

Owen Jones recently made a bit of a splash by announcing that, despite having voted for Labour at every election in the last 21 years and despite having family connections to the party going back two generations, he’s cancelled his membership.

We all have political red lines: mine is supporting what would amount to war crimes against innocent civilians, toddlers and newborn babies among them, then gaslighting the public over doing so.

It’s interesting that what seems to have been the last straw for Owen isn’t Labour’s current stance on Gaza or its current policy positions, woeful though both of those are:

ending the two-child benefit cap would lift 250,000 children out of poverty, and lessen the effects of poverty on a further 850,000, but Starmer backed keeping it anyway. … This is the same Labour party that has ruled out bringing back a cap on bankers’ bonuses or instituting a wealth tax. The same Labour party committed to Tory fiscal rules that lock the country into dismal austerity policies that have delivered collapsing public services and an unprecedented decline in living standards. The same Labour party that gutted its one distinctive flagship policy, a £28bn-a-year green investment fund, not because it came under pressure, but because it feared it might.

Rather, what tipped the balance seems to have been the unprincipled cynicism and mendacity of the current leadership, and (to judge from the rest of the article) their authoritarian and openly factional approach to the party they ostensibly lead. Both these unpleasant attributes suggest that the current leadership sees British politics in essentially presidential terms, and fairly debased presidential terms at that: what counts is getting Keir Starmer into Number 10 and, er, that’s it. If achieving that goal means abandoning Labour policies, treating Labour MPs like members of staff and alienating Labour members – and then swearing blind that none of this is happening – well, so be it; do you want to win the next election or don’t you? Owen takes the view that this isn’t a form of politics he wants to endorse to the point of remaining a member of the party, and it’s hard to disagree.

I’ve been thinking of writing about (possibly) leaving the party for a while, as it goes. I wouldn’t say Owen’s stolen my thunder, but he has forced my arm; if not now, when? And I agree that Gaza has shown Keir Starmer in a very bad light, both in the positions he’s taken and in how he’s taken them. I found the clip I commented on here particularly depressing:

I can see where Starmer’s coming from, if I squint. It’s certainly true that a broadly pro-Israel position will go down easier with the US and the EU – and, in Britain, with the particular bodies that Labour has chosen to identify as representative of “the Jewish community” – than an anti-Israel one. If you carry that reasoning far enough, I guess you can reach a point where it just isn’t realistic for a Labour leader to take a stand against genocide; not unless it’s actually in progress, at any rate. It’s not a train of thought I’d ever want to follow; the words ‘awful warning’ spring to mind. (Obviously I couldn’t call for a ceasefire back in October – be serious! Back then Israel had hardly had the chance to kill anyone!) But what I find most depressing isn’t how morally repugnant Starmer’s position is but how self-evident he appears to find it: it suggests someone far more attuned to how a policy sounds (to a particular audience) that what the policy actually is.

So no, the thought of continuing as a member of this party, united around the objective of making this guy Prime Minister, doesn’t fill me with enthusiasm. What are the arguments in favour? When I began thinking about this post I identified one possible reason as ‘being a part of something’, but rapidly realised that all the reasons I could think of were variations on that theme; the only difference is in the ‘something’ that we’re talking about being a part of. Let’s start big and work down.

If I stay in the party I can be part of…

…the party that’s going to form the next government!

I’m not indifferent to this argument. I argued a few years back that the supposed paradox of voting (if no one vote can ever be decisive, no one person’s vote matters – and if no one person’s vote matters, nobody’s vote matters) disappears if you take a retrospective view of elections:

the day after the election something will have been decided; we vote to bet on a particular outcome while making it fractionally more likely, because we want to have contributed to bringing that outcome about … every time we go to vote we’re saying that there is a result we want to bring about, and we want to be among the people who can look back and say they made it happen.

Similarly, and more so, for party membership. But… how much do I really want to be part of the effort to elect that guy and his party? (See above.) I wasn’t rejoicing on 1st May 1997, and I already dread almost all the possible outcomes next time round – a Labour landslide very much included. Apart from anything else, how much (more) damage is the current leadership going to do to the party’s democratic structures before they’re finished?

There is, of course, an argument that nothing we’re hearing from Labour in opposition is a reliable guide to what they’ll do in government (after they’ve been elected on the basis of what they’re saying now) – any more than Keir Starmer’s ten pledges were a reliable guide to how he would act as leader, after he was elected on that basis. There’s also an argument that a woman who’s been beaten up by her unfaithful fiancé should still go through with the wedding, because (a) how he acts when they’re engaged says nothing about how he’ll act when they’re married, and what’s more (b) he’s already shown he’s capable of changing (by becoming unfaithful and violent).

So it’s a No to that one. What else would party membership let me remain a part of?

…the process of forming the policies of the next government!

This would be a great thing to be part of. Unfortunately, membership of the Labour Party gives me about as much access to the party’s policy-making process as it does to the Garrick Club. Under the reorganisation implemented in the early days of New Labour (and never reversed), policy development is the responsibility of the National Policy Forum (NPF), a body with a membership of 200; 55 places are reserved for elected representatives of the party membership, five each from the nine English regions plus Wales and Scotland. You’d have a better chance of getting on Mastermind – and probably more opportunities to make left-wing arguments if you did. My region – Northwest England – currently has only two NPF reps, for whatever reason; both are long-serving Labour councillors. (There are also nine places reserved for Labour local government representatives.)

The NPF does periodically invite submissions from party members, of course – and there is, of course, still an annual Conference, where policy resolutions are debated. But in both of these cases the chances of getting a hearing for anything remotely left-field (in either sense of the word) is minuscule – and, crucially, in neither case does the leadership consider itself bound by anything emanating from below. (This change in leadership culture is also a New Labour legacy, and one that simultaneously complements the organisational change and makes it meaningless. New Labour was like that.)

Really, the lack of effective democracy within the Labour Party is hard to overstate. Even in a democratic centralist party – whose policies, once agreed, are binding on party representatives on all levels – there are some mechanisms for proposals to be fed upwards from the membership to the leadership. They’re liable to be heavily filtered on the way, and the process of cadre formation will ensure that very few of them are at all heterodox to begin with, but there’s still the chance for the leadership to be caught on the back foot (as the Socialist Workers’ Party discovered to its cost). Not so in the Labour Party; not since Blair. The process of forming the party programme – and hence the policies of the next government – is owned by the leadership and whoever they may choose to listen to, which is a group that doesn’t include party members.

OK then, but how about being part of

…a movement within the party to change all this?

Have I considered, in other words, that I could not only stay but stay and fight? Well. To answer that question, allow me to quote a member of the radical autonomist A/traverso collective, commenting on the anti-repression conference held in Bologna in 1977 and its aftermath:

At the end everyone felt a slight sense of bitterness, disappointment, frustration as they went back to their own areas and the places where they lived and fought. Everyone was determined to carry on, to move forward, but nobody could ignore the crucial question: forward how? forward where?

Stay and fight how? Stay and fight where? I can stay and cast votes in internal party elections – I could vote for a Left National Policy Forum representative, or for Left candidates in the membership section of the National Executive Committee – but the effect would be extremely limited. Until recently there were six membership representatives on the NEC, with the numbers taken by the Left rising from 3 in 2012 to 6 in 2016; the Corbyn-era expansion of the section from six representatives to nine gave the Left nine NEC representatives in 2018, a bloc that would be worth voting for. However, this was effectively neutered in 2020 by the introduction of a preferential voting system, meaning that Left representation in the section went from 6 out of 6 in 2016 to 9/9 in 2018… and 5/9 in 2020.

The Left could stay and fight to take over individual parties, I suppose; I think a lot of ‘stay and fight’ discourse envisages this as the first step, as if the Left comes into being not as scattered individuals but as cohesive groups, each one large enough to swamp the local Right. Back in the real world, we have of course tried this – and had very limited success, even at the high-water mark of Corbynism. (Corbynism was great in lots of ways, but another time we are going to have to do better.)

Or might I want – thinking back to the ‘retrospective’ justification for party membership – to be part of

…the group who – at some point in the future, when the Left is stronger and the party’s internal democracy has been renewed – can say that they were here all along?

Well, no, not really. When leaving the party is being discussed, friends who have been in the party for longer than me often counsel patience, remind us that things have been a lot worse in the past and say that the party is going to be the best place to be when the current leadership falters and the Left revives again. The trouble is, I can’t see why that isn’t just an argument for joining the party when the Left revives again. Maybe I’d have difficulty rejoining then after leaving now; maybe new members generally would be barred from important votes for six months, as happened in 2016. But if the Left’s strong enough, they’ll be able to remove the obstacles its enemies have put in its path – and if (as with Corbyn) the Left ultimately isn’t that strong (or focused, or determined), well, better to know sooner than later.

In the mean time, though, don’t I want to be part of

…a community of like-minded people in the local area?

Dude, I live in Chorlton – this is a community of like-minded people. I don’t need to go to a local Labour Party meeting to find other people who read the Guardian and buy Fairtrade coffee, although I’ll certainly find some there.

I won’t find many socialists in a local Labour Party meeting, though, unless they’re people I know and we’ve gone along specially. The local Labour establishment held the line against the Left throughout the Corbyn period – even in 2017, when it was touch and go for a moment – and they’re holding it still. And holding the line, let’s be clear, means excluding the Left from any effective influence over the branch – even if that means having current office holders play musical chairs with the available positions. At the ward’s most recent AGM thirteen people were elected (to nineteen positions); ten of the thirteen had previously been elected on at least two occasions, eight of them four times or more.

I could understand it if the Left were a gang of Trots demanding the immediate nationalisation of leading local industries (Unicorn, Chorlton Cheesemongers and the Makers’ Market), and threatening to stop the party getting on with the serious business of building environmentally-conscious social democracy locally – and I think that is how the cliqueestablishment sees us. (At best – to judge from their contributions at party meetings, some of them just think we’re Nazis.) But if anything the opposite is closer to the truth. There was a contested election for Women’s Officer at an AGM a few years back; the Left candidate proposed campaigns on forced marriage, domestic violence and period poverty, to which the establishment candidate replied by proposing a picnic to celebrate International Women’s Day. The latter won comfortably; at the following AGM she was elected Chair of the branch.

All of that said, there is a local Left – an actual community of like-minded people, almost all of whom I met through the party in the Corbyn years; I’m still in touch with a lot of them through social media. But that’s not a reason to stay in the party, as an awful lot of them have either been expelled or left of their own accord – and even those who are hanging on in the party often focus their campaigning outside it.

That only leaves one reason to stay in the party – and it’s not actually a bad one (although it does sound quite negative when you first hear it). Do I want to be part of

…the group who persistently try to get left-wing motions through the local party hierarchy, even if the only real effect is to annoy the local cliqueelected leadership?

I’ve had a bash at this; I proposed that the party endorse the principle of allowing local parties to select their candidates instead of having candidates imposed or vetoed by the leadership, as advocated in 2020 by, er, Keir Starmer actually. The motion was carried at the branch, but ran into trouble at the CLP; arguments against included “this isn’t happening to any significant extent”; “it is happening, but everyone who’s been affected deserves it”; the baffling (and/or anti-democratic) argument that “party members aren’t elected by anyone, so they shouldn’t be selecting candidates”; and the all-purpose “we shouldn’t even be discussing this, it’s a distraction from winning the next election”. The last of these was particularly popular. (I would have thought a motion about selecting the best candidates for the next election had some relevance to winning the next election, but I’m not a Professor of Politics.)

Losing to some really terrible arguments was undeniably bruising, but up to that point it was quite fun – especially when I provoked one delegate from our ward into saying that letting local parties choose their candidates was just wrong, and if Keir Starmer had argued for it then Keir Starmer was wrong. (Implying that the Corbyn leadership was right when it imposed its chosen candidates. Hey ho.) Looking back I do regret making my submission in calm, conciliatory tones, having gauged the tone of the meeting (up to then) and scrapped my original plan of going in quite hard (“I don’t want to hear any nonsense about not caring whether Labour win”, etc). Being friendly didn’t obviously gain me any advantage, and it certainly didn’t gain me any votes.

That motion was never actually going to win, though, not in that room. The reaction of half – well, more than half – of the delegates to anything emanating from the Left was essentially

Invasion of the Body Snatchers: Donald Sutherland points and screeches

It wasn’t a complete waste of time, though, even if you discount the transient pleasure of winding up people you don’t like. (It’s not personal; they’ve given me plenty of reasons not to like them.) Something I noticed on the night, but didn’t really think about until later, was that the delegates who voted against the motion I was speaking for – which I was proposing, at the CLP, on behalf of the ward party – included several delegates from my ward, who were thus voting against their own branch’s motion. If they’d all voted in favour, in fact, the vote would have been tied. Some friends raised this at the next branch meeting, and I’m happy to say caused some embarrassment. I was half expecting the clique to claim freedom of conscience, point out that the Labour Party isn’t a democratic centralist party and generally brazen it out, but I suppose this line would have been difficult to sustain in front of the branch – which had, as we remember, passed that motion in the first place. The principle that a branch’s delegates should probably vote for that branch’s motions was fairly readily accepted, although there was some foot-shuffling over the evident fact that this hadn’t happened; one member of the clique even suggested that some branch delegates might also have been there as a delegate of an affiliated society (although in this case they would presumably have voted in favour of the motion as well as against, which I’m pretty sure nobody did).

So say not the struggle naught availeth, eh. It’s just that the struggle is a struggle, and at the end of the day it availeth not terribly much.

There is one, final, reason not to leave, which is that nobody will notice if I do, or indeed care – a thought that makes the idea of staying on to make trouble for the clique particularly persuasive. Equally, if I do leave, it would be nice to make a bit of noise on my way out (as Owen Jones indubitably has). But I’m not at all sure that these are good enough reasons to remain a member of a party with the Butcher’s Apron on its membership card, a leadership that’s running interference for a state committing genocide and few identifiable policies that I actually support.

By Phil | Also posted in bitterness and spite, Britain, new labour, pinkoes, politics | Comments (5)

Branch life (2)

24 October 2021 – 20:38

Earlier this year our Labour Party branch held its AGM (online). The main business of the evening was electing officers, or rather re-electing officers: of nine elected positions, seven office-holders were re-elected and an eighth position was taken by someone who had held other positions in previous years (eight other positions, to be precise, in the previous five years). Even the sixteen positions of delegate to the constituency party were mostly taken either by officers or by people who had served as delegate multiple times before.

The secretary, in particular, was elected to the post for the fifth successive time. Back in 2017, when the Left took a run at getting some positions in this branch, we stood a candidate for secretary, but they didn’t really have a chance: incumbents have many advantages over any challenger, and an incumbent secretary has more than most. Everyone who goes to so much as one party meeting knows the secretary; everyone knows he’s efficient and even-tempered, keeps things running and doesn’t wind anyone up. Which is all true. He’s also a member of a clique dedicated to keeping things much as they are, with offices shared between a rotating cast of familiar faces and with the Left kept firmly at arm’s length – but it’s hard to get the vote out on that basis, not least because any Left candidate would need to be able to show that they had the qualities to be a competent secretary. Which I’m sure lots of people do, but it’s difficult for any of them to demonstrate it to members of this branch without first getting elected to something.

A few weeks ago the branch was called on to re-select – or de-select – one of our three councillors. (The ward used to be competitive between Labour and the Lib Dems, but then came the Coalition, which had the usual effect on the Lib Dem vote; our councillors have all been Labour since 2011.) It was the turn of a long-serving, well-liked and not particularly right-wing councillor, and nobody was very surprised when reselection was a formality. What did come as a surprise was the announcement soon afterwards that one of the other two councillors was standing down for personal reasons; a by-election would be called, and we needed to elect a candidate to stand in it. Word was that the favoured candidate was our secretary.

A shortlisting meeting was duly announced to the membership, with a lead time of a few minutes over 96 hours; the same email also announced a selection meeting, to take place four days after that. Seven days, not four, is the minimum interval laid down in party rules; however, the rules also stipulate that the Manchester party hierarchy – like the NEC nationally – can waive requirements like this if it sees fit. I was surprised to see that a list of six candidates emerged from the shortlisting meeting – our secretary, a Left candidate and four others – but less surprised to hear, on the night of the selection meeting, that three of them had withdrawn.

In the mean time candidates had been given an opportunity to send out emails to all members – and, two days after the shortlisting meeting, our secretary and the Left candidate both did so. The Left candidate set out an impressive record of campaigning and activism, both in the party and in the local community. Our secretary for his part offered us a double-sided full-colour flyer, complete with pictures of himself out and about in the area, testimonials from colleagues within the party (“he will be a fresh face on the council and a brilliant councillor”) and five pledges to his (future) electorate – although on closer inspection these consisted largely of itemising the people he intended to “work with” (“our current councillors”, “local traders, businesses and the local Traders Association”, “officers at Manchester City Council”, etc). We also learned that he had been a caseworker for the local MP for the last six years. (A friend asked the Manchester party whether other candidates would have the chance to send out something like this, and was essentially told that there was nothing stopping them – with the strong implication that their candidate and ours started out on a completely even footing, and that neither had any materials or facilities available to them other than what they could rustle up in two days and pay for personally.)

At the selection meeting, two days later, quite a long time was spent on checking the credentials of everyone involved, by the novel method of having one person compile a handwritten list of names (in the order they logged in) and then call them out for checking by two other people who had the membership list, while a third person kept an eye on the chat and called out anything that cropped up there. (Strange that more people don’t attend these meetings, really.) When all that had been sorted out, the three remaining candidates each gave a brief address and answered a selection of questions. Questions on social care and on a local green space campaign gave both the Left candidate and the third candidate the chance to demonstrate principled commitment and engage with the detail of what’s possible locally, identifying specific actions which the council could take. A question on the EHRC report seemed less directly relevant – indeed, one Jewish party member objected to having their identity put up for debate at a council candidate selection meeting – and could have been designed to put a left-winger on the spot. Our Left candidate trod a careful line, neither minimising the problem of antisemitism in the party and society nor acquiescing in the conflation of anti-semitism with anti-Zionism. The third candidate’s answer seemed designed mostly to avoid the issue entirely, although they did begin with the curious assertion that the pandemic had made racism and antisemitism worse. (Whereas in fact antisemitism stopped being a problem in April 2020, of course.)

As for our secretary, his answers to the substantive local questions could not have been blander or more vague; his stress throughout was on damping down expectations of how much could realistically be achieved, and the need to “work with” people – and charities, and businesses – in order to deliver even that. He only really displayed any passion on the question relating to the EHRC report: those were dark times for Labour… how far an anti-racist party had fallen… he was proud to have put his name to a motion to affiliate to the Jewish Labour Movement… it was imperative for us to build bridges with the Jewish community… anyone who didn’t agree with that objective, frankly, he didn’t think they belonged in the party. We shall see if anything comes of that; all I’ll say here is that, considering the high probability of the axe falling on anti-Zionist Jewish socialists (here as elsewhere), talking about swinging it in the name of “the Jewish community” is a bad joke.

So the Left candidate performed well, at least in terms of having good ideas, being on top of the issues and handling a tricky question on the fly. The third candidate was a bit more vague and waffly, and the secretary didn’t really cover himself in glory at all – unless what you want from your local Labour councillor is extreme gradualism and a staunch commitment to one particular position in a century-long dispute within the British Jewish community. Would the voters be swayed?

Well, what do you think?

It was at our last council candidate selection meeting that the similarity between our local party meetings and a wedding first struck me. There were three candidates that night, too; the people the local establishment had turned out voted for their candidate, the people we’d turned out voted for the Left candidate, and the third candidate basically got the votes of the people she’d come with. It would have saved a lot of time to cancel the speeches and just station ushers on the doors where people came in – left-wing challenger side or centre-right establishment side, sir?

I wouldn’t have thought that the voting this time round could be even more polarised, but it was: the Left candidate got about a third of the votes, the secretary got two-thirds and the third candidate got… one vote. Second preferences did not need to be counted. This, for a safe seat on the council; this, for a candidate explicitly offering business as usual (with a side order of war on the Left); this, in one of the biggest ward branches in the city. All this, in a meeting taking place a week and a day after the vacancy was first announced to branch members, and attended by approximately one-eighth – maybe even less – of those members.

And that, children, is where Labour councillors come from.

By Phil | Also posted in bitterness and spite, new labour, pinkoes, politics, zionism | Comments (0)

Democracy now

7 February 2020 – 13:30

I was surprised, midway through my local Labour Party AGM, to hear the name “Steven Fielding”. Could it be?

Yes, it could.

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Point of information #1: I think the number I heard cited was 970. As of the 2019 local elections, the electorate of the ward stood at 10,452; if we carry on recruiting we’ll soon be up to one in 10 adult Chorlton residents. Plus 970 is actually higher than the number of votes received by the second-placed (Green) council candidate in 2019. We probably don’t need to bust a gut campaigning this year.

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Point of information #2: the factions. Those subtle, subdued factions! (Very Chorlton – factions by Farrow & Ball.) I defer to Steven’s expertise here; my highest qualification in Politics is a Master’s, and my book is only incidentally about electoral politics and political parties. But it seems to me that there weren’t actually two factions visibly active on Monday night, just the one – and that its operations weren’t at all subtle, but rather overt.

Perhaps it comes down to definitions. Put it this way: here are statements on behalf of two groups of people, A and B, both of whom are members of the same party.

A: “We support the elected leader and thoroughly approve of the party’s current programme – and so do our allies who have been denied party membership!”

B: “We think the party’s policy is wrong and the leader needs to change direction – and so do our allies in other, rival political parties!”

Call me an old eccentric, but I’d always thought that the label of ‘faction’ applied properly to group B, but not to group A. Ten, twenty, a hundred people who are involved in collective lobbying for the party to change (and may have other loyalties): that’s a faction. Ten, twenty, a hundred people who are content with how the party is now and back it every time: that’s not a faction, that’s just some happy party members. Broadly speaking, I’d always thought that supporting the party’s policies and leadership was the one thing a party member can do which is definitely not ‘factionalism’. True, sometimes parties go into crisis – I might mention the Cultural Revolution, I might mention Comrade Delta – and under crisis conditions it might make sense to talk of a ‘leadership faction’. But the Labour Party certainly wasn’t in that kind of crisis at the time of the 2017 AGM; we’d just deprived the Tories of their majority, apart from anything else, and were averaging 42% in the polls. This is the AGM that Steven referred to in his second Tweet; it’s also the one where I stood for election as a CLP delegate and (as I wrote at the time) found myself in the absurd position of “effectively running as a left-wing outsider, on a platform consisting of supporting the party’s elected leader and its agreed manifesto”. Running, in other words, against the locally dominant anti-leadership faction. (And didn’t get elected – a record I’ve maintained at both subsequent AGMs.)

Steven for his part was elected as a delegate this year – as his Tweet says – and good luck to him. I noticed that his personal statement led with his involvement in Another Europe Is Possible, a group whose Labour members surely ticked every group B box: an organised group, lobbying for a change to established party policy, on grounds of principle rather than pragmatism. (Whether that principle was correct, and whether it was important enough to override pragmatic considerations, are separate questions.) But the Remain cause has been big in our ward for a while – the incoming Chair is an enthusiast herself, according to her report from last year – so a reckoning with that particular faction of ideological purists may be a long time coming.

There was a report from last year from the incoming Chair…? Well spotted, imaginary reader. The incoming Chair could write a report because she had previously been a branch officer; the branch clearly didn’t think this was a problem, though. In fact, several officers either stayed in post or moved sideways, and several posts were uncontested. Contested elections are a pain, of course, particularly when you’re using paper ballots (in a branch with nearly 1000 members, at that) – and who can blame officers who want to go on working with people they know, or else try their hand at a different role? Still, though; looked at from outside it might seem odd that, in a ward branch with a membership nudging four figures – the size of some entire CLPs – it’s only possible to find one person interested in any of the officer positions.

It might also seem odd – or at least logistically challenging – for a branch this big to hold an all-member AGM: what did they do, hire a sports hall or something? No need, imaginary reader, there was no need. We met in the same place as last year, and I think we were pretty much the same people as last year; we were certainly in very similar numbers to last year, viz. around 70. Which is very much not one in 10 Chorlton residents; it’s not even one in 10 of those 970 members.

Which also helps explain the uncontested elections. Seven days (the notice period required when calling a branch AGM) is not a very long time – and membership secretaries don’t hand out contact lists to anyone who might want to do a quick bit of phone-banking. This is all according to the rules, of course, but these ‘home team’ advantages (and others created by officers’ role in the AGM itself) mean that the likelihood of anyone disrupting the orderly self-perpetuation of the dominant faction is pretty slim. Back in 2017, those Corbynite hotheads might have thought they could change the world by publishing a slate (i.e. printing some names on a piece of paper), but these days everybody knows what’s what and acts accordingly. Groups that are out of power don’t bother putting up candidates for inevitable defeat; the group in power doesn’t bother mobilising its softer supporters; and the wider membership ignores the one email they’ve been sent, and stays away from what sounds like a tedious meeting. The result is a kind of political Sealed Knot, an annual reunion of the office-holders and their factional activists on one side and the diehards of the excluded group(s) on the other. They might as well take allegiances at the door, like ushers at a wedding, and declare the results straight away.

You could argue that all this is beside the point: the party has able and effective officers, many of whom have proved their effectiveness in previous years; we have three Labour councillors; our Labour MP was re-elected in 2019 with a majority of 52%; what’s the problem? True, the dominant political tenor of the branch has been out of tune with the leadership for the last few years, but that’s not a problem – we don’t go around suspending branches just because they disagree with the leader – and besides, it may not be the case for much longer, depending on whether Keir Starmer wins (and which of his supporters he betrays). And, let’s not forget, the local party has nearly 1000 members, and they don’t seem to mind; they certainly didn’t turn up to complain.

But this doesn’t represent a healthy democratic party. A hard-fought meeting at which you pull out all the procedural stops, pour your heart into your statements and end up defeated is depressing enough, God knows, but a meeting where almost nothing gets fought because there’s no point trying is ten times worse. And what kind of message do these conditions send to the membership – what kind of membership are we building, if members keep seeing the same names in the same posts, or else (for a change) the same names in different posts? Come to that, should we be concealing from members the fact that different people in the party – although we all support Labour – think different things about the best way to get a Labour government, or about what a Labour government should do when it is elected? Reading party mailings – and attending party meetings – I often get the impression that we’re concealing that knowledge from ourselves.

I’ve always believed that uncontested elections and musical-chairs rotation of posts were signs of a local party in decline – not of one that’s going from strength to strength, as ours apparently is. Perhaps the problem is precisely the apparent absence of factions – or rather, the impossibility of multiple factions arising when a single faction dominates for long enough. Perhaps what we’re seeing is how unchallenged factional dominance sows the seeds of decline. Depending how you define ‘faction’, of course.

Update The second Labour Party meeting this week saw Withington CLP’s leadership nominations go to Keir Starmer and Angela Rayner, neither of whom I voted (or will be voting) for. These nomination meetings are something of a formality now – with three of the four leadership and four of the five deputy leadership candidates already on the ballot – and Withington’s nomination doesn’t actually have any effect on the vote, unless there are members out there willing to vote for whoever an email from the local party tells them to, which I would hope isn’t the case. (Then again, some people at the meeting were seriously arguing that we should vote for Starmer on the grounds that our MP supported him, an argument which to my ears sounds not so much unpersuasive as downright weird – we elected him, he didn’t delegate us.)

Anyway, it doesn’t matter greatly in the scheme of things that Keir Starmer won the vote over Rebecca Long-Bailey – although I feel compelled to mention that the win was fairly narrow and depended on transfers from Lisa Nandy’s supporters (so much for “time for a woman leader”) – or that Angela Rayner walked it for deputy (with Richard Burgon and Dawn Butler in distant second and third places).

The candidates’ statements – and the speeches in favour of them from attendees – were interesting, though. I’m not going to say much about the deputy leadership contest, but I do want to say a word for Richard Burgon’s statement; some really interesting proposals, particularly to do with democratising the party, which make me think he’d be a good complement to either of the main leadership candidates. His cause wasn’t helped on the night by his partisans, though – one went big on his (symbolic and easily circumvented) “peace pledge” proposal, while another said that Burgon would help Long-Bailey stay true to the “Corbyn project” (a phrase not guaranteed to win over the doubters).

More generally, there were some interesting contrasts between the speeches in favour of the three main candidates and those candidates’ statements. I tell a lie, there were some interesting contrasts between the speeches in favour of Keir Starmer and Starmer’s own statement. Long-Bailey and Nandy’s statements, and the interventions in their favour, both followed quite similar lines, viz:

Long-Bailey: policy 1, policy 2, policy 3, democratise the party, political experience, personal experience, local woman

Nandy: rebuild the party, unite the party, towns and cities, new, different

Starmer, not so much; his statement was quite policy-heavy and included some fairly explicit commitments to maintain the course set by Corbyn (which I found – in fairly rapid succession – surprising, gratifying and suspicious).

But – perhaps needless to say – this was not what made Starmer appeal to the people advocating him; the speeches in his favour (and there were several) could be summed up as three parts “unite the party”, two of “electability” and one “experience in senior roles”. As in Chorlton branch, there seems to be an odd association, for many members, between “not being on the Left” and “(correctly) having no position at all”. Later in the evening, as people ran out of more specific things to say and tempers began to fray, we were treated to several interventions on the theme of “you can either have the perfect ideological position [said with contempt] and be in opposition forever, or you can try and win the next election”. This is objectionable in a number of ways – it rewrites the history of the 2010-17 elections, which you’d think we’d want to learn from, as well as being quite extraordinarily insulting to members who are on the Left and have worked rather hard to try and get Labour MPs elected (thanks all the same). But what really stands out is the blithe assumption that they, the speakers, don’t care about having “the perfect ideological position”; that they’re a non-Left non-ideological non-faction.

(Nobody really spoke for Emily Thornberry, incidentally. It’s genuinely surprised me the way that she’s effectively dropped off the ballot; on paper it’s hard to see what Keir Starmer’s got that she hasn’t (ho ho). At one point somebody had the impertinence to ask whether Starmer’s “electability” had something to do with him being a white man from London who looks good in a suit. I don’t think I’ve ever heard an actual chorus of disapproval before.) 

The other interesting thing is how thinly attended the meeting was. This will sound like crazy talk to anyone who was there – we packed out a sizeable school hall, and the debate between loyalists and the anti-leadership faction was pretty lively. But consider: total attendance was in the region of 320. There are seven wards in the constituency and consequently seven party branches; one of them (as we’ve just seen) has a membership of 970. None of the others is that large or anywhere near, but total membership across the constituency must be around the 3000 mark. So: turnout at a meeting to decide, at least symbolically, who the constituency wants to see as the next leader of the party was approximately 10%. Which is 50% better than the 7% we managed on Monday night in Chorlton – but that’s a low bar.

The Labour Party’s half a million members are, still, a sleeping giant – even now, four years on from 2015. That’s an enormous, untapped asset; viewed less cynically, a membership that size has the potential to change the political culture of this country from the ground up, and at the very least to change the way that we think about political party membership. But if that’s going to happen, they’ll need to be mobilised, and mobilised politically – which means abandoning the pretence that everyone in the Labour Party thinks the same thing, or that all that any of us care about is electing good, hard-working Labour councillors and a good, hard-working Labour MP to represent all the good, hard-working local Labour voters. (Apart from anything else, how is that going to draw anyone in? Let’s face it, a diet of “re-elect Councillor X” and “what shall we ask the council to do about local issue Y?” is pretty thin gruel, even if you supplement it with events to mark key calendar dates.)

The trouble is that the keys to making that kind of mobilisation happen are, very often, in the hands of people who gained their current position in just the conditions of unchallenged factional dominance – with all its depoliticising and demobilising effects – which need to change.

 

By Phil | Also posted in cheery thoughts, pinkoes, politics | Comments (0)

What happened?

6 February 2020 – 17:04

My MP has just asked me – and a few thousand other members of his CLP – what went wrong in December: what do we blame for Labour’s defeat?

Now, you don’t ask a ‘quantity’ question if you want a ‘quality’ answer; if you wanted to hear a measured argument weighing up multiple factors before coming to a judiciously qualified conclusion, you wouldn’t ask several thousand people at once. Presumably what our man is after is something to replace the row of dots in a statement like “Members have told me over and over again that…” or “What I’m hearing again and again is…”. So I don’t suppose my MP will be reading and considering my arguments very carefully, or (to be brutally honest) at all. But I wanted to get it straight in my head, so I thought it was worth doing for that alone. And hey, free blog post!

What do I blame for Labour’s defeat in 2019?

1. Brexit. Brexit has to be top of the list; it was always going to make winning in 2019 a long shot. Ultimately I don’t think it mattered very much exactly where Labour’s policy ended up – we were always going to lose x% to hard Brexit parties and y% to hard Remain parties, it was just a matter of which was bigger. Perhaps a more Brexit-friendly position would have saved some (net) votes and seats, but we can’t be sure – although I definitely don’t think that going any further towards Remain would have helped. What we do know is that the constant lobbying and nudging to shift Labour’s Brexit policy didn’t help at all – it made us look indecisive, made our policy look incoherent and exacerbated divisions within the leadership. In retrospect we should have set out a line quite early on and stuck to it – even if that line was ‘accept Brexit but blame the Tories’.

2. Populism. Brexit also exemplified a broader problem – the way that politics (“the art of the possible”, objectives and how to achieve them) has increasingly been supplanted by a kind of populist spectator mentality, in which people cheer on their side and don’t care what actually happens as long as the other side loses. Talking policy to an audience primed for slogans is a waste of breath – but how did we end up with an audience that wants slogans, and how do we get them to think about policy again?

3. Margaret Hodge. Or if that’s giving too much prominence to one person, I blame the lack of loyalty and discipline within the PLP more generally. Like him or loathe him, after 2016 there was no possibility of removing Corbyn as leader; anyone who continued to agitate against him, under those conditions, was only working for a Tory victory. But, as disgraceful as many MPs’ conduct was, they don’t bear all of the blame here; Corbyn’s lack of interest in party management came back to bite him, and us. The next leader must do better, which means learning (selectively) from New Labour. (A little Leninism goes a very long way, as Philip Gould once said.)

4. Online. Postal votes are one of the things killed us – I suspect that many of the people I spoke to on the doorstep, and thought I’d persuaded to consider voting Labour, had already voted Tory. I think the underlying lesson is that the Tories’ online operation – particularly targeting Facebook – is scarily good; we need to work on ours. (We also need to rethink what we think we’re doing – and in particular who we think we’re talking to – when we do online campaigning.)

5. The manifesto. The manifesto was a programme for a sweeping social-democratic transformation of the economy; we could never have done it all in one term. I don’t think there’s much wrong with the proposals themselves, but we should have been clearer about what we were proposing for the first term and what was more of an aspiration. Also – most importantly – we should have been working towards those policy announcements from 2017 onwards, not springing them on an unsuspecting electorate with a few weeks to go till the election.

6. There is no point 6. I’m not saying a word against Jeremy Corbyn – plenty of people will do that for me – but even if I did I wouldn’t put the leadership’s contribution to our defeat any higher than sixth in a field of six. Scapegoating Corbyn might be satisfying, but it’s a distraction – and won’t help us win next time.

By Phil | Also posted in just me then, pinkoes, politics | Comments (1)

Reasons to be cheerful?

24 November 2019 – 23:01

Sunday 24th November
I confess, I was expecting the polls to have picked up by now. Labour’s share of voting intentions has been stuck in the 29%-30% zone for a week or more. It’s a lot better than where they started – and the weighted average is 30 rather than 29 – but it’s not election-winning territory, not by a long way.

Will the polls be wrong? Almost certainly. Wrong enough for the party on 30% of the polls to form the next government? Almost certainly not – if things don’t move quite a bit in the next seventeen days, it’ll be goodnight Vienna.

But do Labour need to be polling in the 40s to form the next government? Definitely not. On a uniform national swing, with adjustments made for Scotland and Wales, the Tories will not have a majority if they finish less than 4% ahead of Labour, as indeed they didn’t in 2017; it will also be difficult for the Tories to get a majority if their vote share falls below 37% (or below 39% if the Lib Dems do well). Labour could end up as the largest single party on as little as 36% of the vote, as long as the Tories’ vote was even lower. All of these scenarios seem a fair way off at the moment, but they’re considerably more achievable than putting Labour on 42% and the Tories on 30%.

Moreover, I think there are a number of factors at work in this election which will work to Labour’s advantage, and may well see a party polling in the mid-30s punching well above its weight. In no particular order:

The Brexit Party
Farage’s party has done the main thing it set out to do, which was to pump up the Kipper vote and then give the Tories a boost by handing it back to them. But that still leaves the small matter of candidates standing in nearly 300 seats, most (but not all) of which are held by Labour or the Lib Dems. What, we have to wonder, are they playing at? What can they realistically achieve? There must be some thought of harking back to the glory days of the 2015 election, when UKIP candidates took 10% or more of the vote in 400+ seats – but two-thirds of those seats were and are held by Conservatives, which by sheer arithmetic means that a good half of the seats where they’re standing in 2019 are very long shots indeed. (Interestingly, the Tory/Labour ratio is different with respect to the much smaller number of seats where UKIP got over 20% of the vote in 2015 – 39 Labour out of 69. It’s not entirely a myth, there are Labour seats out there with a good, solid chunk of far-Right voters (several of those seats had had substantial BNP votes in 2010); there just aren’t very many of them.)

Evidence of UKIP’s spoiler capacity in 2015 – and hence BXP’s spoiler potential in 2019 – is very limited. While there were 78 Conservative-won seats in 2015 where the majority was smaller than the UKIP vote, suggesting that UKIP may have stolen votes – and seats – from Labour, there were also 63 Labour seats where the same was true. If, rather than assume that the entire UKIP vote would otherwise have gone to the Tories – or, even less believably, to Labour – we assume that only 2/3 of UKIP voters would have been available, the numbers are even more evenly balanced. In 2015 there were 46 Conservative seats where the UKIP vote was 150% of the Conservative majority or more – and 45 Labour seats. If UKIP were equal-opportunity spoilers in 2015, all they did was hand one group of (what would otherwise have been) Tory seats to Labour and another, similarly-sized group of Labour seats to the Tories – and if they weren’t equal-opportunity spoilers, they hurt the Tories more than they did us. All of this, moreover, was on the basis of a rising tide of UKIP support, not a dying fall of BXP concessions and withdrawals, with polling numbers in the low single figures.

Of course, even if BXP are polling 3-5%, that effectively means they’re polling 6-10% in the seats where they’re standing. This time they won’t be an equal-opportunity spoiler; they will effectively lend votes to the Tories in Conservative seats, while still stealing votes from Labour in Labour seats. At least, that’s the theory. I wonder how effective this will be; I wonder what proportion of the voters attracted by slogans about Getting Brexit Done will have been drawn away from the Conservatives rather than from Labour, even in Labour seats. (Ware the ecological fallacy! Not every working-class voter in a Labour seat is a working-class Labour voter.) As for the Conservative no-show seats, I wonder how many natural Brexit Party voters will, in the absence of a Faragist candidate, go back to voting Conservative on the day – and how many will stay at home, meaning that the advantage BXP votes have given the Tories in the polls will melt away in the poll that matters.

At the end of the day, the Brexit Party benefits the Conservative Party most when it doesn’t stand, or campaign, at all. With the Tories on 42% and BXP on 5%, that effect is in the bag; now we move on to campaigning. BXP/UKIP in campaign mode don’t win anything and never have done; they’re wrecking parties, and naturally tend to do most damage to the Conservative Party (even stealing a couple of its MPs for a while). At worst, I think the effect of the Brexit Party on the actual result will be small; at best, it may actually be to Labour’s benefit.

The Liberal Democrats
A lot of people seem to have left Labour for the Liberal Democrats recently, for two main reasons as far as we can tell: clarity over Brexit and Jeremy Corbyn. Now, there are two ways of quarrelling with that statement, only one of which I’m going to entertain: I’m not going to put any weight on suggestions that there’s no substance to these issues, that nobody seems to know what they actually don’t like about Corbyn or that Labour’s position on Brexit is actually clearer than the Lib Dems’. I could make a case for either of those, but there wouldn’t be much point; the fact is, those defections happened and for those ostensible reasons, around the time of the European election (which was also when the Brexit Party hit the big time). And, unlike the growth of the Brexit Party at the expense of the Tories, they haven’t yet been reversed.

Well, not entirely. Back in March the two main parties were each polling around 35%, with the Lib Dems and Greens on 15% between them; at the European election in May, the Conservatives and Labour were on 9% and 14% respectively, while the Lib Dems, Greens and Change UK took 35% of the vote between them. Today’s averages – Conservatives 42%, Labour 30%, Lib Dems plus Greens 18% – look a lot more like the first set of figures than the second; any argument that Labour, unlike the Tories, hasn’t made back the losses of the European election has to be qualified.

Nevertheless, we haven’t made those losses back as completely as the Tories have; a good 5% of voters do seem to have dumped Labour for the Lib Dems, and 5% of voters is a lot of voters. The question is what effect that will have. The short answer is, probably not very much of one; even if the Lib Dem vote isn’t squeezed any further (which is unlikely, as it has been inching downwards), 15% is well below the threshold at which the party – or any third party – can make serious gains.

As for what difference that extra 5% of ex-Labour voters will make, an awful lot will depend on where they are. I know personally quite a few people who are (a) rock-solid Remainers and (b) dubious at best about J. Corbyn Esq; they’re also members of the Labour Party, but never mind that now. More importantly, all those people live in a safe Labour seat. I wonder if the “internal opposition” mentality (as encouraged by e.g. Tom Watson) tends to flourish in safe Labour seats, where it’s possible to kick up about everything the leadership gets wrong without any risk of opening a flank on the Right – and, if so, whether the same can be said of those people who go the extra step of abandoning the party altogether. In short, I wonder if that extra 5% of Lib Dem voters, the ones who swung away from Labour at the Euros and then stuck, is actually an extra 10-15% in half or a third of the constituencies – specifically, the safe Labour seats. In all honesty there’s nothing to support this speculation; if it is the case, though, the effect will be that Lib Dem votes will count for even less at the election than usual (Labour would just take those seats with 45% of the vote instead of 55%).

Nature and arithmetic abhor a vacuum, so the knock-on effect of Lib Dem votes counting for less is that Labour (and Tory) votes would count for that bit more. Imagine 10% out of the Labour vote share shifting to the Lib Dems in 65 seats without affecting the result – that “winning on 45% instead of 55%” scenario repeated 65 times; imagine 5% in 130 seats, if that’s more believable. Either way, you’ve just dropped the Labour national vote share by 1%, without any decrease in the number of seats won. If it was going to take N% to win M seats, thanks to those defections to the Lib Dems it now only takes N-1%.

Who gets polled and who votes
The Graun reports that there are 56 seats where the number of potential first-time voters exceeds the winner’s majority in 2017 – and 28 where the number of voters aged below 35 is ten or more times the size of the 2017 majority. Thanks to the appalling state of electoral law at present, an estimated nine million potential voters are currently unregistered, but that number looks like being considerably smaller by the time registration closes at midnight on Tuesday.

Simply, we don’t really know what the demographic makeup of the electorate is going to be, although we do have reason to believe that it’s changed noticeably in the last few days; 670,000 people aged below 35 have registered to vote in the past week. Moreover, we don’t know what turnout is going to be like in particular groups – and, when political polarisation varies as much between age groups as it currently does, differential turnout can make a huge difference. All that polling organisations can do is make assumptions about the likely makeup of the electorate, assemble the most representative panel they can – a panel which is likely to be undersupplied with people aged below 35, let alone 25 – then weight the results to achieve representativeness, then weight them again to match turnout assumptions. And that’s a lot of assumptions – there’s many a slip between sample and result.

For many types of error you would expect different pollsters to err in different directions, so that their errors would cancel one another out, but in this case it wouldn’t be at all surprising if multiple companies made the same good-faith assumptions about the demographics of registration and turnout – nor would it be surprising if those assumptions turned out to be incorrect. And the likeliest effect of all these errors is an underestimation of the votes cast by younger people – who are much, much more likely to vote Labour.

The polls, notoriously, were wrong in 2017. Looking back at the data preserved at UK Polling Report, it turns out that they were wrong in a particular way: they clustered around figures of 44% for the Tories and 36% for Labour. In other words, they over-estimated the Tories by 2% – and underestimated Labour by 4%. There’s a chunk of salt to take the polls with. Of course, the polling companies carried out post-mortems – nobody wants to be wrong – and made changes, many of which (ironically) consisted of reversing adjustments they’d brought in to correct errors identified after the 2015 election. So maybe they’re on the money now. Or maybe the same thing’s going to happen again – or (perhaps most probably) something different is going to go wrong this time. Ci vedremo.

The ground war
If you go to the Website https://events.labour.org.uk you can find details of nearby canvassing sessions; all welcome! (I recommend it – you get to meet some interesting people and hear their stories, and it’s great exercise.) As I write it’s Sunday evening, and the Website lists 31 different events taking place tomorrow. (Which, as you may have worked out, is a weekday.) Labour has a lot of members, and we are doing a lot of canvassing. It’s a good thing to do. Where people have issues they feel strongly about, we can explain how Labour would help them; where people have negative preconceptions about the party or its leadership, we can offer alternative ways of looking at them; where people simply don’t want to know about ‘politics’, we can be there as a reminder that they have got a vote and they can use it.

Even a membership of half a million isn’t going to be able to knock on every door in the country, of course – but that’s not what we’re trying to do. We’re not focusing on safe seats (with all due apologies to everyone currently stranded in safe Conservative seats) – and safe seats is what most seats are. Personally I don’t expect to be spending much time in Stretford & Urmston or Tatton, as nothing’s remotely likely to happen this time which would make those seats change hands. But there are marginals in the Manchester area, and I’m going to be flying the flag for Labour down their streets – listening to what the people have to say about disability assessments and Brexit and parking permits and academy schools and anti-semitism, nodding and smiling when they say they just don’t like Jeremy Corbyn, sympathising and agreeing where I can, arguing where I have to, and generally being the friendly face of Labour. (Two people this afternoon thanked me for stopping to talk; one said I was the first political campaigner who’d knocked on the door in “years and years”.) I’m going to be doing that, along with lots of other people, over a period of nearly three weeks. A lot of people in those marginals are going to end the campaign with a very different view of Labour from the one they began with – and, perhaps, a very different view of Labour from the national picture, which is to say the one that gets into the opinion polls. It certainly can’t hurt.

So there’s quite a lot going on that doesn’t make the polls. The makeup of the sample consulted in the polls may not reflect the makeup of the electorate, while the turnout assumptions applied to polling data may not be reflected by actual turnout patterns; indeed, for Labour, ensuring that turnout patterns are different is a standing challenge. If the Brexit Party polls 5-10% in Labour seats, those vote shares may well come out of the potential Tory vote and make those seats that much safer. If the Lib Dems poll 15%, that’s unlikely to win many seats, and a substantial element of the 15% may run into the sand in safe Labour seats. And, even if the national results suggest that the Tories ought to come out ahead, the work that Labour volunteers are doing in marginal seats may be enough to swing them, and swing the overall result, our way.

As a Labour Party member I’m hoping that all of this will be academic, as Labour will be polling two per cent ahead of the Tories by the 12th of December. But if that’s not the case, it may be that climbing a smaller mountain will be enough to get the job done. 30%? Nowhere near enough. 35%? You might be surprised. (After all, it was good enough for Tony Blair…)

By Phil | Also posted in pinkoes, politics, stats | Comments (1)

Cheers then mate

20 September 2017 – 16:47

Jeremy Corbyn is not the leader of the Labour Party.

What is the Labour Party? Fundamentally, it’s an institution. Institutions – local councils, charities, the BBC, the Museum of Science and Industry – have two key properties. First, they stand for something – corporate mission statements are a backhanded homage to the sense of ‘mission’ that a true institution always already has. Second, they perpetuate themselves: they keep themselves going, so that they can do the things they believe in. But, of course, institutions aren’t alive: everything they ‘do’ or ‘believe’ is mediated through people, specifically people occupying particular roles and sharing a particular institutional culture. What the British Museum ‘believes’ is what the Director of the British Museum believes – and vice versa. There’s a certain way of criticising politicians that counterposes ‘idealism’ to ‘careerism’, but in reality they’re two sides of the same coin: the classic occupier of an institutional role is, precisely, a careerist idealist.

Any time an institution gets a new ‘leader’, that person will find that it already has an institutional culture and a good supply of people occupying institutional roles. This is all the more the case if the institution is articulated across multiple levels of authority and/or geographical locations. Changing an institution’s culture is a slow and laborious process; it’s one of the things that differentiates an institution from a business, or a Leninist party. The Labour Party is not a corporation (or even a university), and Jeremy Corbyn is not its CEO (or vice-chancellor): it was never going to be possible for Corbyn to wipe the slate and inaugurate Year Zero of Corbynite Labour. However much support Corbyn had, there were far too many people throughout the party who had careers or were building careers, occupied institutional roles or hoped to occupy them, on the basis of a culture and ideals very different from his. (And I stress ‘ideals’; these are all good Labour people that we’re talking about, let’s not forget.)

Just how slow and laborious it is to turn an institution around will depend on how bureaucratic it is. Bureaucracy is inherently conservative: it tends to keep things going. A heavily bureaucratised institution can weather periods of low social mobilisation, but risks being left behind by periods of high mobilisation. Periods of high mobilisation are when looser, more membership-driven institutions – broadly speaking, more democratic institutions – come into their own: they allow new leaders in off the street, making established office-holders look over their shoulder. Bureaucratic institutions wear newcomers down, turning this year’s spiky radical into next year’s smooth operator; newcomers live with the awareness that existing office-holders are doing a perfectly good job, and that they will just have to wait their turn. Democratic cultures tend to radicalism; bureaucracies tend to conservatism, and sometimes they tend pretty hard that way. When I first came to Manchester, the Labour council had a (left-wing) Labour opposition group, many of whose members were repeatedly suspended from the party. In 1984 the numbers shifted and the opposition group took over the council, which duly became a byword for anti-nuclear and anti-apartheid advocacy and for the municipal ‘loony left’ generally. The leader of the group was Graham Stringer. Tempora mutantur et nos mutamur in illis, eh?

When Corbyn was elected leader, I was surprised by the failure of most of Labour’s MPs and power-holders to fall in behind the new boss. (I say ‘surprised’; ‘outraged’ would be another word, or ‘disgusted’.) This was naive of me; I should have realised that the change at the top was only the beginning of a process of democratic renewal in the party. Maybe I’m still naive, but what has continued to surprise and disappoint me is the strength of the bureaucratic resistance to that democratic renewal. When the rank outsider has won on the first ballot (and won again when challenged); when the party’s membership has grown and kept on growing; when the Labour general election vote has risen after everyone expected it to collapse – doesn’t that suggest to even the most sceptical observer that something’s going on out there? And might this not be a time to start working with the new leader and his supporters, rather than paying lip service to our numbers and our ‘energy’ and then fighting us for every office and every vote? Apparently not. It’s taken two years even to reorganise the National Executive Committee so that the leadership – and the membership – will have a fighting chance of getting their way, and that change won’t actually take effect for another year; it’s trench warfare all the way down. (Which, incidentally, explains an awful lot of the negative stories about Corbyn. “Damaging Labour split”? People are organising against the leadership. “Labour in chaos”? People are organising against the leadership and talking to the press. “Corbyn misses crucial vote”? People are organising against the leader, and on this occasion they’ve managed to outmanoeuvre him. And so on.)

And so it came to pass that, when my local branch held its annual election of officers and delegates to the constituency party, a number of delegates signalled their allegiances and intentions through key phrases in our personal statements: things like “I support Jeremy Corbyn” and “I support the party’s manifesto”. That’s the ludicrous position I personally found myself in – effectively running as a left-wing outsider, on a platform consisting of supporting the party’s elected leader and its agreed manifesto. And so it was that, when the votes were counted, I and other ‘Corbynites’ got absolutely rinsed. Existing office-holders, as well as being protected by a variety of – doubtless entirely rulebook-compliant – procedural devices, were given the opportunity to assure the meeting that things were going swimmingly under the current management and that no kind of renewal was needed, or if it was that they were the best people to manage it; most of the votes went 55/45 or 60/40 in their favour; and the outsiders between them ended up with one officer (an uncontested position), and a total of four delegates out of 17. All of which isn’t going to make anyone lose sleep, or divert the local party from its present, comfortable course.

Corbyn stands for turning Labour into an active, outward-looking, campaigning party, and that’s one of the things that’s attracted all of those new members. Is that going to happen while local parties are managed by the same people who were managing them three years ago – people whose political culture and ideals are very different from Corbyn’s? It doesn’t seem likely. And if the local party was working with Momentum, agitating to get suspensions of good comrades reversed, holding political discussions, working to build the party in target seats and generally contributing to the renewal of the party nationally, would that be such a terrible thing? Terrible enough to make it worth organising to secure practically every post for a safe candidate? I really don’t understand the mentality here. I’m temperamentally rather conservative (I’m a folk singer, for goodness’ sake), so I can certainly see the appeal of not rocking the boat unnecessarily as a general principle. But there’s such a thing as moving with the times – and the times have been moving rather quickly since September 2015.

So, no – Jeremy Corbyn isn’t the leader of the Labour Party; at best he’s the leader in name only (LINO?). He is the leader of a movement whose membership is numerically dominant within the Labour Party, and which wants to transform the Labour Party. Unfortunately that movement, despite its numbers and its association with the elected leader, is currently being blocked by office-holders with an excessive attachment to the status quo and/or insufficient attachment to democratic principle. But I’m sure that won’t always be the case. Jeremy Corbyn is not the leader of the Labour Party – yet.

By Phil | Also posted in bitterness and spite, history, pinkoes | Comments (1)

On second places

22 May 2016 – 00:25

Thinking about the elections the other week, and in particular the amount of noise that was made about the Tories taking ‘second place’ from Labour in Scotland. From a Manchester perspective, this chimed with the comments we’ve heard from Liberal Democrat sources about the City Council being a ‘one-party state’, on the basis that all 96 seats were occupied by Labour. (‘Were’ being the operative word; we now have one (1) Liberal Democrat councillor, former MP John Leech, who can thus consider himself the leader of the opposition (and probably does).) The implicit suggestion was that the local Lib Dems were snapping at Labour’s heels – or rather, that they would be, if only the electoral system allowed it – in much the same way that the Scottish Tories are supposedly on the SNP’s tail.

The problem with this kind of argument is that not all second places are equal. (Essentially, talking about ‘places’ in an election – instead of votes or shares of the vote – is converting an interval/ratio variable to an ordinal ranking; you inevitably lose information in the process.) Here are a couple of charts for you to compare and contrast.

Screen Shot 2016-05-21 at 15.38.02

Screen Shot 2016-05-21 at 15.38.16

What’s going on there? Clearly we’ve got two different distributions, both normal-ish and with a right skew; one has nothing under the 10% mark and is truncated on the right (at 100%), the other has nothing over 80% and is truncated on the left (at zero). Whatever we’re measuring, there’s a lot less of it in the second chart.

What we’re measuring is opposition. Specifically, the first chart is based on the votes received by second-placed candidates, in English constituencies in the 2015 General Election, as a proportion of the winning candidate’s vote. So, for example, there were 35 seats (6.6% of the total of 533) at which the election was close enough for the second-placed candidate to receive 90% or more of the winning candidate’s vote – as against 17 (3.2%) where the vote was so one-sided that the runner-up got less than 20% of the winner’s vote.

As for the second chart, those are second places in the 32 council seats that were contested in Manchester this May. As you can see, there were no seats in which the runner-up came as close as 80% of the winner’s vote, let alone 90%; only two of the 32 exceeded 60%. Both of these, it’s worth stressing, are the product of a big campaigning push by the local Lib Dems at this election in particular; one seat they won, with Labour on 69% of the Lib Dem vote, while in the other the Lib Dems came second with 76% of the Labour vote. In none of the other 30 seats did the runner-up’s vote exceed 52% of the (Labour) winner’s. In 9 of the 32 seats – 28% of the total – the runner-up vote was 20% or less of the winner’s; the 20-30% range accounts for another nine.

Three points. Firstly, this is not a political earthquake waiting to happen, for anyone; those are some distant second places. Secondly, in a situation like this it doesn’t much matter who occupies second place. Another quick and dirty chart:

Screen Shot 2016-05-21 at 17.43.10

That’s number of seats vs winner’s share of the vote; it starts at 50%-60% because the lowest winning vote share is in that range. (To be precise, the Lib Dems got 52.6% in the one seat they won; in their other main target seat they pushed the Labour vote right down to 50.3%.) As you can see, the seats where Labour got as little as three-fifths of the vote are in the minority; the mean winning vote share is over 65%, and the median is just under. In a situation where, on average, Labour are getting two votes for every one cast for all the other parties put together, caring very much about who’s in second place demonstrates either wild optimism or innumeracy.

And a whole range of people are in second place. In this table of runners-up – screenshotted from Excel, because I couldn’t be bothered to sit here for ten minutes typing in <tr> and <td> tags – I’m going back to the ‘share of the winner’s vote’ metric. In other words, ‘51%’ in this table represents getting over 20% of the vote when Labour get 40%, or over 30% to Labour’s 60%; it’s really the bare minimum to have any kind of shot at ever actually winning the seat.

So, who are the runners-up, and how are they doing?

Screen Shot 2016-05-21 at 18.05.47

(Sums to 30, not 32; one seat was won by the LDs, as mentioned above, and in one other the runner-up was an Independent.)

That’s an awful lot of not a lot going on, particularly considering that two of the three Lib Dem runner-up scores in the rightmost column were 50.1% and 51.6% (of the Labour vote). Yes, there are Kipper runners-up – quite a few of them: ten to the Greens’ eight, and a couple of them not too far below 50% of the Labour vote – but really, there’s nothing here to worry about. What we’re looking at here isn’t the rise of UKIP – their single best vote share was 27.4%, in a seat where Labour took 59.4% – but the total collapse of the local Tories and the (more recent and more dramatic) near-total collapse of the Lib Dems. In some parts of the city, in fact, the collapse of the old opposition parties is all that’s happened. Look at that top left square: four seats where the Tories were in second place to Labour, with 10% or less of the vote. (It wasn’t for want of alternatives, either; five candidates stood in three of those four seats, six in the other.) In other parts, Greens have started work on replacing the left-liberal Lib Dem opposition voice, or Kippers on replacing the Tories. But they’re in for an awfully long haul, with no guarantee of any success at all – particularly now that the Lib Dems are starting to pick themselves up again.

And that’s the third point I wanted to make: there’s a big difference between getting 40-50% of the winning party’s vote and getting votes in the 70-80% range which put you properly in contention. And a large part of what makes the difference is party organisation: having party members willing to put posters in their windows, chip in to support party funds, let you know what local people are worried about and (not least) go out on the knocker, just to make sure everybody knows that there’s an election on and that your party’s standing. Another screenshot, this one from the Manchester Evening News local elections liveblog:

Screen Shot 2016-05-06 at 14.31.49

You need people, in short – and Manchester Labour’s got plenty of those, particularly since last September.

Two final thoughts, one about electoral systems and one about Scotland. Given that, in 31 wards out of 32, Labour took more than 50% of the vote – with a winning margin (the difference between Labour’s and the runner-up’s share of the vote) ranging between 12% and 74%(!) – you might think that proportional representation wouldn’t have a lot to offer. And you’d be half right, but only half. A strictly proportional allocation of the votes cast – say, a party list system electing to a single 32-seat constituency – would give 21 Labour seats (instead of 31), 4 Lib Dems (1), 2 Tories (0), 3 Greens (0) and 2 UKIP (0). Split the seats elected more or less in two and use an additional member system – as seen in the Scottish Parliament – and you get 21 Labour, 4 Lib Dems, 1 Tory, 4 Greens and 2 Kippers (but please don’t ask me to show my working). Multiply by three for the full council, and we have Labour occupying 63 seats out of 96 (instead of 95). I admit, it’s a bigger impact than I’d anticipated before I did the number-crunching. Whether it would make Manchester any less of a ‘one-party state’ is another question. Labour would effectively be faced with three separate opposition groups, numbering 12, 12, and 9 – all of which they could outvote, jointly or severally, till the cows came home.

The lesson for Scotland, meanwhile, is to look at the big picture and not get distracted by minutiae of electoral arithmetic. Whether the Tories or Labour are in second place in Scotland is about as significant as whether the Greens or UKIP have more second places in the Manchester council results – which is to say, not significant at all. Manchester is Labour, and the party has an army of people devoted to keeping it that way; any challenger has more than one mountain to climb. Since 2015, exactly the same things can be said of Scotland and the SNP. We can argue about who threw Labour Scotland away, and whether it can ever be restored in its old form, but the political reality is that it’s gone – and that it won’t be recreated easily or soon, by anyone. This, of course, has implications for how Labour goes into the next General Election campaign – but that’s a subject for another post.

By Phil | Also posted in Britain, England, pinkoes, politics | Comments (1)

100 Years Ago (5)

13 December 2015 – 00:23

The Oldham West and Royton by-election result, coming after and improving on the same constituency’s result in the General Election, was uncharted waters for partisans of the “working-class drift” theory: Labour didn’t lose votes to UKIP, but equally Labour didn’t win votes back from UKIP by playing their tunes. (If my reading of the General Election result is correct, there weren’t any great number of Labour votes to win back from UKIP.) So what was going on? The other stereotypes for explaining working-class Labour votes – the Popular Local Figure and the Deep Unthinking Loyalties – didn’t seem to fit either, in a constituency whose popular local figure had just died, and at a time when a new leader was making everyone think about whether they wanted to be loyal or not. On the doorstep, in fact, the answer often seemed to be ‘not’: recall Abby Tomlinson’s Tweets, quoted earlier.

And yet the vote went to Labour, in quite a big way. Why? we might well ask; we might even ask how?

I think Stephen Bush was looking in the right direction in his post-match analysis:

it could be that Labour’s North West operation simply used its activists very well – if your activists are spending a lot of time talking to firm Labour promises before the final days, they may be missing out on persuadable voters.

It was the North West that saw some of Labour’s best results in May 2015: gaining Wirral West and City of Chester against the tide. It may be that the reason why so many Labour members left Oldham convinced it would be tricky is because the campaign team sent them to exactly where they wanted them to go, meaning that on the day itself, they could be confident of only talking to cast-iron Labour voters.

The idea that the local party steered its activists towards the less likely prospects – thus making good use of whatever persuasive power those activists had, while at the same time guaranteeing that the activists themselves would think it was looking pretty rough – has an appealingly counter-intuitive, parsimonious appeal. But I wonder if the real explanation is simpler. Firstly, whichever direction these activists were being sent, there were an awful lot of them. Check this out:

Seven hundred volunteers! That’s a bit more than one for every hundred people on the electoral roll; if you think of it as one volunteer for every street in the constituency you won’t be far off. Perhaps the local party didn’t target them; perhaps they didn’t need to. If activists like Abby were, simply, put in the position of knocking on a hundred doors and asking everyone who answers if they’re voting Labour, it’s not surprising if they got a lot of No’s and slammed doors. In that situation the word “No” doesn’t necessarily mean “I have the fixed intention of voting for a party other than Labour or else not voting Labour at all” – the slammed door still less so. “No” may also mean “get off my doorstep”, “I don’t want to have this conversation now” or “I’m not having some fresh-faced youngster tell me how to vote”, among other things.

But all those interactions – including the ones that ended badly – had the effect of reminding somebody that there was an election on, that there was a Labour candidate standing, that voting Labour was something they could do. It’s called “getting out the vote” for a reason: there are lots of people who will make a free and rational choice to vote Labour if they find themselves in a polling station, but who may need a bit of help to dislodge them from the comforts of home for long enough to get there. Of course, there’s nothing particularly novel or left-wing about door-knocking; in that sense this was a perfectly ordinary, old-style Labour by-election win. But seven hundred is an awful lot of volunteers – and I’ve got a feeling that a large number of them wouldn’t have been there, wouldn’t even have been in the party, if anyone but Corbyn had won the leadership election. This influx of new recruits – along with an influx of returning ex-members, at least according to one of my local councillors – is Corbyn’s gift to the party; last Thursday we saw how valuable it can be.

So I wonder how many of the door-slammers and the “not with your leader” grumblers ended up voting Labour anyway – and how many would have been slightly less likely to do so if they hadn’t had that doorstep encounter. I also wonder if there’s some misreading of signals going on here, based on an underlying mismatch of political vocabularies. Tony Blair was, for better and worse, a charismatic leader – a figure who voters could identify with, and pin their hopes on, in fairly personalised terms. For Labour right-wingers who grew up under Blair, having a set of political beliefs and believing in a political leader are likely to be closely allied concepts. When someone with this background looks at Jeremy Corbyn, they see somebody who’s entirely without credibility as a leader and a set of ideas which they oppose. Again, the two things go together: a credible leader wouldn’t have those ideas; a politician with different ideas would have more credibility. So who knows whether Corbyn quoted Enver Hoxha because he’s a secret Stalinist, or just because it amused him – and who cares? It doesn’t matter; the two are the same thing, or might as well be. (It certainly doesn’t matter enough for it to be worth getting the story straight before printing it.)

I became a Labour supporter when I started caring about politics here and now, which was some time in my late teens. The leader of the Labour Party at the time was Jim Callaghan. It wasn’t until 1983 that Labour had leaders I could believe in, in Kinnock and Hattersley – and my belief in them didn’t last into 1984. I felt strongly about Tony Blair – by the time of the 1997 election I loathed him, and feared what he was going to do to the party and the country (oh yes I did). But he was the exception: towards every other leader from Callaghan to Miliband – including Kinnock after the shine had worn off – I’ve felt nothing stronger than tolerance and the faintest glimmer of hope that this time might be different. The idea of believing in them never crossed my mind. I wouldn’t say I believe in Corbyn, either, although I do approve of pretty much everything he’s done and said as leader (as well as liking his sense of humour and thinking he seems like a really nice bloke). But he’s not credible as a ‘presidential’ style of leader, and he’s not trying to be; he doesn’t believe in that kind of leadership. That’s OK, because neither do I.

And, I suspect, neither do a lot of the voters of Oldham West. They may think (unlike me) that Corbyn should have dressed up a bit on Armistice Day and shown more respect to the Fallen; they may think he’s an idiot and needs to get his act together. They may not believe in Corbyn at all. But that won’t necessarily stop them voting Labour – because they, like me, came up in a political world in which you don’t generally believe in your party’s leader, and you vote for your party for other reasons (particularly if the party you vote for is Labour). This in turn suggests that Corbyn’s personal qualities – even his personal popularity or otherwise – may be irrelevant to his success or failure as a Labour leader: the things that make you want to choose to vote for a party are very different from the qualities that make you identify with a leader personally. Politicians who have left-wing principles and are willing to explain and justify them – without evasion and using full sentences – may have an appeal that a more charismatic leader lacks.

In short, the Oldham West result suggests, not only that the great working-class drift to UKIP is a chimera (I’ll be writing more about this), but that Labour under Corbyn can win. It also suggests that winning is anything but guaranteed: the party needs to have the chance to get its message across, the party needs to unite and the members need to get out there. None of these things are in Corbyn’s gift, but Labour as a whole can make them happen. Hopefully the more pragmatic parts of the Right of the party are taking note.

Update “Perhaps the local party didn’t target them”, indeed. The very thought!

We had three rounds of canvassing in total. Our first round focused on every individual that had ever voted in any election, regardless of political history. Our second round of canvassers visited those voters that had either remained uncontacted from the first round, or who had told the first canvassers that they might be supporting Labour, were still undecided, or wouldn’t say. Our third and final round of canvassing, most of which was done in the final week, was focused on firming up the weak Labour vote.

But having 700 people to do it won’t have hurt.

By Phil | Also posted in new labour, pinkoes | Comments (2)

100 Years Ago (4)

10 December 2015 – 00:46

Let’s revisit the “working class drift” model. Here’s Stephen Bush:

Under Ed Miliband … Labour was divided between “people who drink wine, and people who drink lager”. Wine drinkers drifted away to the Green Party. Lager drinkers trickled away to Ukip. The result: thumping defeats across England and Wales. Under Corbyn, that Greenward drift has gone into reverse. … The Ukip trickle, however, is turning into a flood in some places.

And Rafael Behr:

the immediate worry is Ukip gobbling up Labour’s white working-class support

the malaise in Labour heartlands is … a function of votes long taken for granted, combined with a sense of Labour’s capture in the 90s by arrogant southern elites: that it was “poncified”. That expresses deeper alienation, connected to the decline of secure manufacturing jobs and to mass migration

[Corbynism feels like] a catalyst for decline … distinct from Blairism only in the sense that they are opposite sides of one Islington coin

Feel the liberal middle-class guilt: those poor white working-class voters, left stranded by the destruction of heavy industry, feeling beleaguered by immigration, finding nobody to speak for them but a bunch of privileged southerners who’d rather be speaking to immigrants anyway… Labour has abandoned its (White) working-class roots, and the White working class is returning the favour by drifting away from Labour. Moving to the Left is no help, because these days that just means attracting wine-drinking, Guardian-reading Green sympathisers (Bush) or another variety of soft southern elitists (Behr). What we need is… well, what do we need, at the end of all this? What do we need, to address the people of the heartlands whose deeper alienation is associated with mass migration, and who are so disconnected from political debate that they see no difference between Blair and Corbyn? What starts as introspective New Labour guilt-tripping ends as straightforward UKIP populism – anti-political (seriously, no difference between Blair and Corbyn?) and distinctly tinged with racism.

In another, saner world Labour Party watchers would have seen last week’s by-election as the test of whether there was any truth to the “working class drift” model, and would have greeted the result with whoops of joy. Because, surely, if this theory was ever going to work anywhere, it would work in Oldham, with the most left-wing leader Labour has had in decades. Ta-da – the theory’s been put to the test and it’s failed: there isn’t a vast, inexorable drift of working-class support to UKIP and away from Labour! Happy days! Better put that political obituary on hold, and get back to thinking about how we’re going to win next time.

In reality, of course, the reaction has been rather less positive. Some people have simply trotted out the same old story again: an article on LabourList takes the “it’ll happen next time, you mark my words” approach, while Roy Greenslade wonders whether to revise a piece he’d prepared earlier (“I spent days wondering whether I should publish this piece”) and decides not to bother:

It has been noticeable for many years that there has been a disconnect between the culture, lifestyle and social outlooks of the majority of the party’s MPs and the people they seek to represent. Note, for instance, Ukip’s level of support in Labour working class areas where its anti-immigrant message has proved a potent vote-gatherer.

I feel your pain, Roy. Or rather, pleasure, obviously – what Labour supporter wouldn’t be pleased by a result like that? (Come on, Luke Akehurst is pleased. Yes, it’s happened – I agree with Luke Akehurst, up to a point.)

But, as we saw in the first of these posts, most of the commentariat reacted to the good news by simply shifting from one line of attack to another, rather less plausible line. You can’t say working class voters are drifting away from Labour when the figures in front of you say they aren’t, but you can say that the majority wasn’t as big as it looked, it should have been bigger, it doesn’t matter anyway, and so on. (And look over there! Enver Hoxha!)

Coming from self-avowed Labour supporters, it’s all very odd – but maybe not inexplicable. One of Freud’s breakthroughs in analysing dreams was the – apparently dogmatic – insight that all dreams are wish fulfilment: the fear and disgust you feel in dreams are states of affairs you want to relive, either because they’re perversely coded as security and pleasure or because they’re a price you believe you should pay, and hence fantasise about paying, for those things. Working out why you have those attachments, and what they’re rooted in, is the job of dreamwork – the patient’s free-associating disentanglement of the dream and everything related to it (and everything that comes up in dreamwork is related to it). I’m not saying that the rise of UKIP is a fantasy – it’s out there and we’re stuck with it, at least for the time being (the party’s ever more overt racism is surely a sign of desperation). But UKIP’s clamorous success in the 2015 General Election owed a great deal to two one-off political events – the implosions of the BNP and the Liberal Democrats – and one anomalous condition which has thankfully ceased to obtain, viz. the attention and respect which the BBC paid to the party during the last parliament. I don’t think it’s the case that UKIP’s modus operandi is poaching votes in large numbers from Labour – still less that the party has a hotline to the collective unconscious of the ‘White working class’. If Labour people are having that kind of nightmares, it’s because they want to have them. Perhaps, deep down, they can’t imagine a working class that isn’t collectively ignorant and bigoted; perhaps they believe that sacrificing their liberal principles to appease ignorant bigots is the price they should pay for taking power.

Or perhaps it’s simpler than that. The aftermath of last week’s election reminded me forcibly of a period in the 1980s when by-elections always seemed to be greeted by Anthony King or Ivor Crewe announcing that this was a very disappointing result for Labour, even if Labour had just won the seat. I remember a Steve Bell strip in which an unnamed Newsnight pundit is challenged on his relentless negativity and replies, “Well, you just have to look at the facts. And the facts are that I don’t like the Labour Party, I never have liked the Labour Party and I never will like the Labour Party!”

And maybe that’s all there is to it. If King, Crewe, Peter Jenkins, Polly Toynbee(!) and the rest were relentlessly negative about the Labour Party in the 1980s, that’s not unrelated to the fact that they were pinning their hopes on an entirely different party – a party that could only succeed by replacing, or at least displacing, the Labour Party. Perhaps Behr, Bush, Cowley, Harris et al are also hankering after an entirely different party – not the SDP but the party that absorbed (or re-absorbed) some of its best people, which is to say New Labour. If so, though, it’s not at all clear what their game plan is. The SDP had a plan and followed it through: first split Labour, then discredit the party, then defeat it electorally (and Profit!). However, it didn’t work, and led most of the leading participants either into the political wilderness or round the houses and back into the Labour Party; it was also instrumental in giving the country 18 years of Tory government, which was a bit of an adverse side-effect. So the nostalgists for New Labour are fighting shy of splitting the party, and long may they do so (I agree with Luke on that one). But this isn’t accompanied by a broader rethink on how to replace the party with something entirely different, or even whether replacing the party with something entirely different is actually a good idea. Rather, they’ve simply skipped to step 2, discrediting the party, and set up camp there: attack the party’s leadership, pour scorn on the party’s members and talk down the party’s achievements, and repeat. (From Mao to Momentum to that disappointing result in Oldham… to Hoxha, and off we go again.) I don’t know what this is supposed to achieve, or how it’s supposed to achieve it; the sad thing is, I don’t think they do either. At this point I circle back to thinking about psychological explanations – if you know, deep down, that Labour Party politics is about abandoning your principles and playing to the middle ground, the rise of a politician like Corbyn must be almost physically painful. I picture the first draft of some of these columns reading something like this:

Jeremy Corbyn today no! no! wrong!

Jeremy Corbyn announced today that he NO! WRONG!

Jeremy wrong! WRONG! Not how we do it!

Then they go and make a coffee, take a few deep breaths and sublimate the rage into printable snark:

Jeremy Corbyn today shocked even his diehard acolytes with an announcement seemingly straight out of the Eastern Bloc playbook

and that feels a bit better, for a while.

In the fifth and final part: all right, clever clogs, what did happen in Oldham?

By Phil | Also posted in awfully deep, bitterness and spite, class, new labour, pinkoes, press | Comments (0)

100 Years Ago (3)

8 December 2015 – 23:54

In the last post I discussed a narrative of Labour decline – particularly in predominantly white working class communities – which got a lot of exposure before the Oldham West and Royton by-election. The idea was that Labour was losing the white working class and plugging the gap by appealing either to well-meaning middle-class liberal types or to local ethnic minorities – both of which tactics could only work temporarily, as they would both repel the white working class even more. One exponent of this theory, Stephen Bush, went so far as to apply it directly to Oldham West and Royton, although when asked he explained that he was referring to the General Election result in the constituency:

In Oldham West and Royton, Labour sought salvation in the seat’s Asian vote – but white working-class constituents defected in large numbers, to Nigel Farage’s party, or simply by staying at home.

Is that the kind of thing that’s been happening? Let’s look at some figures. Here’s the vote share in Oldham West and Royton, going back to 1997.

Screen Shot 2015-12-07 at 10.45.24

Note the steady decline in vote share through the New Labour period, following the national trend. (If ever there was a time when the working class was being told Labour wasn’t all about them…) Also note the big third- and fourth-party votes; never, since Nick Griffin stood for the BNP in 2001, have Labour and the Tories together taken as much as 75% of the vote in this constituency. (There was even a couple of percent each for the Socialist Labour Party and the Referendum Party in 1997.) There’s a sizeable sod-the-lot-of-’em vote in Oldham West – and a lot of those people aren’t too fussed about not being called racists.

Now look at the last three results – the 2010 and 2015 General Elections and then the by-election. Do you see white working-class constituents defect[ing] in large numbers from Labour to UKIP, or from Labour full stop? No, me neither. Between the two General Elections, two big changes seem to account for almost all the other differences. Firstly, the BNP didn’t stand, for the first time since 1997: cue a windfall for UKIP. Secondly, a previously strong Lib Dem vote collapsed almost to nothing, as it did in so many other places; most former Lib Dems seem to have gone to Labour, but some to UKIP. Add a little Tory-to-UKIP switching and you’re basically there. I’m not saying there was no Labour-to-UKIP traffic – masked by larger flows into Labour from the Lib Dems – just that this doesn’t seem to have happened on a large scale. My analysis depends on a third or more of the Lib Dem vote going to UKIP, but it’s not as if that’s hard to imagine; as anyone who’s read local election literature knows, local Lib Dem campaigners are adept at picking up protest votes and attracting people who are disaffected with both the major parties. (That’s the polite version.)

As for the by-election result, this looks even simpler: the Lib Dems stayed irrelevant and both Labour and UKIP put on voters at the expense of the Tories, Labour more successfully than UKIP. This doesn’t necessarily mean that there were any vote shifts at all: what may have happened is that UKIP and Labour mobilisation kept turnout relatively high, while Tory apathy, incompetence or simple lack of feet on the ground permitted the turnout of their voters to plummet. (If we compare the numbers of votes cast in the two elections, Labour and UKIP were both down about 27%; the Tory vote was down 70%.) Either way there is – once again – no obvious evidence for the two shifts Stephen Bush wrote about – from Labour to UKIP and from Labour to abstention. It looks more like straightforward polarisation, with Labour and UKIP fighting over Tory votes in much the same way that, seven months earlier, they’d fought over the spoils of the local Lib Dems.

Can we make Stephen’s model work? Voters only have to vote – there’s no requirement to fill in a form detailing their previous voting history; three- and four-way shifts are increasingly common, making a mockery of simple ‘swingometer’ pictures of vote movements. We know what the headline figures look like, but is it possible that the process Stephen describes was going on in Oldham West and Royton, in May 2015, in December 2015 or both? If it’s going to work at all, in fact, it does need to work for both elections: nobody has suggested that the supposed disaggregation of the Labour base is something that wasn’t happening at all before Corbyn was elected leader, still less that Corbyn’s election stopped it happening. These are long-term trends which, it’s generally agreed, haven’t been rectified by Corbyn’s election, and may even have been exacerbated.

If they exist, that is.

The next bit involves numbers, so buckle up. The proposition we’re testing is “white working-class constituents defected in large numbers”, from Labour to UKIP and from a Labour vote to abstention. I’ll define ‘large numbers’ as 5% of the turnout: Labour losing 2-3% of its support would hardly qualify as a trickle turning into a flood (and I think a party attracting voters in ‘large numbers’ would be able to keep its deposit!). So that’s 2,000 people in the General Election, 1,400 at the by-election. I’m also assuming that, when Stephen wrote that Labour voters defected (in large numbers) “to Nigel Farage’s party, or simply by staying at home” the implication is that large numbers of voters did both of these things: 2%-worth of UKIP switchers would look more like a trickle than a flood, even accompanied by 3% abstention.

So: between 2010 and 2015 Labour in Oldham West and Royton lost 2,000 votes to UKIP and 2,000 to abstention (but “sought salvation in the seat’s Asian vote”). Can this possibly be true?

The first problem here is that, between 2010 and 2015, the Labour vote rose by 4,000. (UKIP’s vote was up 7,500; the Tories were down 2,000 and the Lib Dems down 6,500, while the BNP (not standing) were in effect down 3,000.) Assume a 2,000-vote flow from Labour to UKIP and you have to assume that the Labour vote actually went up 6,000, presumably taking almost all of the Lib Dem vote. I don’t have any difficulty believing that the 2010 Lib Dem vote broke disproportionately towards Labour – it happened all over the country – but I do find it hard to believe it broke towards Labour by a factor of 12:1.

As for turnout, here we need to look at the demographics. “Around a fifth of the electorate is of Bangladeshi or Pakistani heritage”, said Rafael Behr. He may have better data than me, but the 2011 Census said that the population of Oldham is 80% White British and 13.5% Asian, which is a bit different. The Asian population of Oldham is concentrated in five wards, two of which are in the Oldham West and Royton constituency, so I wouldn’t expect the Census figures to be far out; I’ll work on the basis of 80% White British and 14% Asian, which is to say that there are approximately 55,000 White British people on the electoral roll and 10,000 Asians.

The contention we’re dealing with here is that White working-class Labour voters abstained in “large numbers” – say 2,000 of them, above and beyond any transfers between parties. So 2,000 White voters abstained, and their place was taken by 2,000 additional Asian voters. Instead of an overall turnout of 60% reflecting 60% turnout across all groups, turnout was lower among Whites and higher among Asians. 60% x 55,000 = 33,000; actual White turnout, without those 2,000 votes, would be 31,000 or 56%. And 60% x 10,000 = 6,000; actual Asian turnout would be 8,000… or 80%. As turnout figures go, that’s staggeringly high. As with the 12:1 split of Lib Dem votes to Labour rather than UKIP, it’s not outright impossible, but it’s very hard to believe without compelling evidence in its favour. (And in this case there’s basically no evidence in its favour, other than word of mouth from disgruntled Labour voters – a topic I’ll come back to.)

What really kills this theory, though, is the by-election. OK, so you’ve staved off disaster by replacing one lot of UKIP defectors with most of the Lib Dem diaspora, and another lot with hyper-mobilisation of the local Asian community: what’s going to happen next time? If “white working-class constituents” had “defected in large numbers” in May, there would have been absolutely no reason not to expect another tranche of defections in December; on the contrary, electing Corbyn to replace Miliband – who did at least look good in a suit – should have stepped up the defection rate. Let’s suppose that we start from the basis that everything happens in December just like it did in May, but on a 2/3 scale, as there’s a 40% overall turnout instead of 60%. So we’re expecting roughly 16,000 Labour votes, 6,000 UKIP and 5,400 Tory, on the basis of 38% White turnout and 54% Asian turnout (2/3 of 56% and 80%, respectively). In fact 17,000 people voted Labour, so we’ve got to gain 1,000 votes from somewhere. But – whoops – there go 1,400 White Labour voters, abstaining and being replaced seamlessly by Asian voters; turnout is now 35%, while Asian turnout has shot up to 74%. Perhaps that’s not outright impossible, but both the 2:1 disparity between communities and the figure of 74% itself would be very, very unusual, particularly in a by-election. It’s far more likely that Asian turnout would stay around about where it was, the White Labour abstainers would not be replaced – and the Labour vote would fall, instead of going up by 1,000. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, we’ve apparently lost another 1,400 Labour defectors to UKIP, so we’re short by 2,400 votes. Where are they going to come from? Not from the Lib Dems – we’re only expecting 1,000 of those to start with (which is also how many we got). Tory voters transferring to Labour – Corbyn’s Labour? Hardly.

In short, and with less maths, the “white working-class constituents defect in large numbers” story, in Oldham West and Royton, will hold up in the face of one good result for Labour – but only one. Those Lib Dem transfers and those newly-mobilised Asian voters are non-renewable resources: if the drift away from Labour had happened in May 2015 and then again in December, the Labour share of the vote would inevitably, necessarily have gone down. Even if the drift away from Labour had started after the General Election – which of course wasn’t what Stephen Bush was suggesting – the disappearance of local support for the Lib Dems would by now have taken away the only place Labour could get reinforcements. If “white working-class constituents” were “defect[ing] in large numbers” to abstention and UKIP, there is no way in the world that Labour’s share of the vote would not have gone down substantially at the by-election. And (new readers start here) it didn’t – it went up, from 55% to 62%.

In part 4: why? I mean, seriously, why?

 

By Phil | Also posted in bitterness and spite, decent left, pinkoes, stats | Comments (0)

100 Years Ago (2)

8 December 2015 – 17:00

As we saw in the previous post, the Oldham West and Royton result may have looked positive, even triumphant, for Labour – a solid vote of confidence in the party under its new leadership – but clear-eyed, responsible commentators have warned us that this is not necessarily so. We should always look at the full picture, however unpalatable it might seem, and take our warning signs wherever we find them. For example, if we weren’t careful we might run away with the idea that Corbyn won the by-election:

Since the late Michael Meacher was a long-term ally of Jeremy Corbyn, the answer is presumably Yes. But it’s a fair question and raises genuine issues which cast serious doubts over the… oh, I don’t want to do this any more, I’m bored.

Guys, come on. It’s not what you were saying before the result, was it? I read quite a bit of comment in the run-up to the election – and in one case during the election – and I don’t remember any of this teeth-sucking perils-of-overconfidence don’t-count-your-chickens stuff. What we were reading wasn’t “when Labour win, remember to give the candidate his due”; it wasn’t “don’t get carried away by a large victory on a small turnout”, or “Labour’s majority may go up, but by how much?”, or “by-elections shouldn’t distract us from the long haul”. That’s not what everyone was saying, was it?

Take Rafael Behr (please…)

If defeat is averted

Hold on a second. Seven months ago, in the same seat, Labour took over 50% of the vote. If defeat is averted.

No, carry on. I just needed a moment.

If defeat is averted, it will be down to McMahon’s local record and support in the constituency’s south Asian population. Around a fifth of the electorate is of Bangladeshi or Pakistani heritage, and Labour canvassers say their vote is holding up best in areas where that community is concentrated. … the incipient segregation of party voting habits along ethnic lines is cause for longer-term concern. But the immediate worry is Ukip gobbling up Labour’s white working-class support in seats with no such demographic cushion.

That’s “the incipient segregation of party voting habits along ethnic lines” which isn’t actually happening – except in the sense that if you’re not White you’re probably not going to be voting for UKIP (or, increasingly, the Tories), and that realistically only leaves Labour. But right-wing parties turning ethnic minority voters away doesn’t seem to worry Behr as much as left-wing parties welcoming them.

the malaise in Labour heartlands is … a function of votes long taken for granted, combined with a sense of Labour’s capture in the 90s by arrogant southern elites: that it was “poncified”.

There are a number of direct quotes in Behr’s article, but none of them includes the word ‘poncified’ – which does, however, make it into the title of the piece.

That expresses deeper alienation, connected to the decline of secure manufacturing jobs and to mass migration. … Hopes that Corbynism might be the adhesive reconnecting a dislocated core to the party seem misplaced. It feels more like a catalyst for decline, another iteration of tin-eared disregard for local sensibilities – distinct from Blairism only in the sense that they are opposite sides of one Islington coin.

A catalyst for decline, by jingo. Talk about doubling down – Behr is now arguing, not only that Labour’s working class vote is falling unstoppably, but that Corbyn’s election will make it fall even faster. An interesting theory and a bold prediction – if only there was some way of putting it to the test!

Well, last Thursday was supposed to be the test; last Thursday was supposed to be the ‘naked lunch’ moment, when the fog cleared away and we could all see who wanted what – and, in the case of the Labour Party and its supporters, who didn’t want what. Last Thursday, not to put too fine a point on it, was supposed to be when the wheels came off the Labour Party, and Corbyn’s leadership in particular. Labour’s traditional supporters were poised to jump ship, and who was going to replace them? Non-voters? Can’t see it.

No wonder that some despaired of the whole mess and said that we need something completely different:

Not sure what Jason means by ‘liberal’ here – or ‘ultra-left’ for that matter – but that’s by the way; we get the gist. “What’s needed”, of course, was “needed” on the basis of the cataclysm that was about to engulf the party; that‘s how bad the political landscape was going to look when the dust settled. Or, as it turns out, not. The good people of Oldham seem not to object to the ultra-left liberals and their unpatriotic schemes – not as much as Jason Cowley does, anyway. (If you are interested in patriotic social democracy, check out the Patriotic Socialist Party (h/t Jamie). Their policies include redistribution of wealth, opposition to all forms of discrimination, withdrawal from the EU, “a system of immigration based on economic sustainability” and “the unification of the British Isles … under a single central government with devolved government bodies for each constituent nation”. That’s right, they want to annex Ireland. Forward to 1801!)

The best exposition of the world-view underlying Cowley’s despair and Behr’s prophecies of doom came from Stephen Bush. On Thursday he published this piece online, ahead of print publication and also ahead of the polls closing – although that didn’t actually matter, as you’ll see.

Like most European social-democratic groupings, Labour is an uneasy coalition between its industrial or ex-industrial core and what Michael Frayn called “the Herbivores” … Under Ed Miliband, as the academic Tim Bale put it, Labour was divided between “people who drink wine, and people who drink lager”. Wine drinkers drifted away to the Green Party. Lager drinkers trickled away to Ukip. The result: thumping defeats across England and Wales.

Under Corbyn, that Greenward drift has gone into reverse. Labour’s new leader is catnip to the Herbivores. The Ukip trickle, however, is turning into a flood in some places. In Oldham West and Royton, Labour sought salvation in the seat’s Asian vote – but white working-class constituents defected in large numbers, to Nigel Farage’s party, or simply by staying at home. It is a journey that Labour MPs have seen voters make before. “In 2005 it was: ‘I’ll vote Labour one more time,’” recalls one grandee. “In 2010 it was: ‘I’ll stay home.’ In 2015 it was: ‘I think I’m voting Ukip.’”

Jeremy Corbyn’s challenge is to find a way to bring together his sympathetic Herbivores and Labour voters, in towns such as Oldham, who are tempted by Ukip, and – if that wasn’t hard enough – win some Tory voters in the process. … It may be that, whether the choice is losing votes to Ukip and the Tories, or to the SNP and groups to Labour’s left, the party must simply decide which direction it wants to turn to face the sunset.

(West, I’d say, but that’s just me.)

When I first read this piece I looked at the second paragraph quoted here – Under Corbyn, that Greenward drift … The Ukip trickle … In Oldham West and Royton – and assumed that the article was writing about an election taking place in Oldham West and Royton under Corbyn’s leadership, i.e. Thursday’s by-election. While the by-election would be safely in the past by the time the New Statesman came out, it was actually happening when the piece was published online. Morever, if calling the election ahead of time was bad form, it seemed particularly regrettable to call the election against Labour (that phrase ‘sought salvation’ suggests rather strongly that they didn’t find it).

I put this to Stephen on Twitter, and he confirmed promptly that this was not a reference to the by-election then taking place; the reference was to shifts in the Labour and UKIP vote between the 2010 and 2015 general elections, in Oldham West and Royton. The narrative is the same in any case: the white working class defecting from Labour in large numbers and the gap being plugged either by latte-drinking liberals or by appeals to local ethnic minorities – both of which, in a savage irony, repel the white working class even more, sending the Labour vote into an inexorable downward spiral out of which it could only hope to escape by…oh, hang on, we won. Never mind. 62%? Good one.

Snark aside, there is a serious question here. Is this the kind of thing that’s been happening? Or rather – since we can’t know for certain whether this has been happening or not – is it a believable interpretation of the figures?

In part 3: no, it’s notlet’s find out!

By Phil | Also posted in bitterness and spite, meeja, new labour, pinkoes | Comments (0)

100 Years Ago (1)

8 December 2015 – 10:04

I agree with Dan Hodges, up to a point.

Hold on, though – didn’t Labour in fact get an increased majority, what with the Labour majority growing in percentage terms from 34.2% to 38.7%? As Harry Hill would say, Of course not! You won’t catch Dan out like that:

In fact, as Dan pointed out several times, Labour’s majority fell: from 14,738 in May to only 10,722. Surely a stark reminder of the underlying problems for Corbyn’s Labour cont’d p. 94

Obviously, this is a bit silly. What you count on the night is how many people have voted for each party, and it’s perfectly normal practice to calculate majorities in percentage terms to reflect this – particularly when comparing General Election votes with by-elections, which are notorious for having low turnout. A Labour majority of 15,000, on the basis of Thursday’s 40.3% turnout, would have required Jim McMahon to take 70% of all votes cast. Hodges could reasonably object that the point of his comment was that Corbyn’s army of volunteers could be expected to drive turnout up, to a point where an increased numerical majority was realistic. If that was the argument, though, he hadn’t done the maths to support it. There were 21 by-elections in the last parliament; average turnout across all 21 was 39.5% – even lower than Thursday’s – and the highest turnout of any of them was 55%, for Martin McGuinness’s old seat. Even if we make the heroic assumption that the combined forces of local parties and the hordes of Momentum could have driven turnout up to 55%, a 15,000 majority – the gauntlet Dan effectively threw down for Labour – would have necessitated taking 66% of the vote, giving Jim McMahon one of the top 20 safest seats in the country. If that’s the bar Hodges is setting, his next column might as well begin “After Oldham, Corbyn’s leadership has been cast into doubt by his glaring failure to go and catch a falling star and get with child a mandrake root”. (My name’s Mark Steel, goodnight.)

Stephen Bush of the New Statesman was having none of Hodges’ fixation on raw numbers. But wait…

Mmm?

This is clutching at straws, though – or whatever it is when you’re scraping around for criticisms of your own side. (Clutching at straws to stab yourself in the back with? Needs work.) Yes, Labour’s share of the vote rose by (only) 7.3%, from 54.8% to 62.1%. But, in a multi-party system – and, as we’ll see, Oldham West and Royton is nothing if not a multi-party seat – once a party’s vote gets over 50% there just isn’t much higher it can go. A reassuringly solid “10+” rise would have taken us to above 65% and into ’20 safest seats in the country’ territory. (It’s in the top 30 as things are – 62.1% is pretty damn good, let’s not forget.)

Still – might it not be a bad sign for Corbyn’s Labour that they’re currently underperforming the achievements of Ed Miliband’s party? I mean, we know what happened to them. Tom Brooks-Pollock of the Independent developed the argument further; under the no-nonsense title “Why Jeremy Corbyn is doing worse than Ed Miliband”, Brooks-Pollock pointed out that one of the ‘early doors’ by-election successes for Miliband’s Labour was in Oldham:

on 13 January 2011, the new Labour candidate, Debbie Abrahams, romped to victory. She increased Labour’s share of the vote by 10.3 per cent compared to the general election – more than Mr McMahon’s increase of 7.3 per cent. The Conservatives, both in Thursday’s by-election and in 2011, came third. This time, their vote share fell by 9.6 per cent – then, it fell by 13.6 per cent. So, at the risk of going into far too much detail, swing from Conservative to Labour (the only two parties who can realistically win a general election, remember) in the 2011 by-election was a stonking 11.95 per cent, compared to 8.45 per cent this time.

By all means let’s not go into far too much detail, but it might be worth reminding ourselves (again) that McMahon’s increase of 7.3% was on top of 54.8%, the share of the vote won by a popular MP in a polarised election. Debbie Abrahams had a lot more headroom, as her predecessor – Phil Woolas – had been elected on 31.9% of the vote in a tightly-fought three-way contest. Something similar applies in reverse for the Tory vote: the Tories’ vote in Oldham West just didn’t have as far to fall. In fact the Tory vote in both seats fell by just over half – from 26.4% in 2010 to 12.8% in 2011, and from 19% in May to 9.4% in December. But I have to admit that it would have been better if the Tory vote had fallen by 14% (or three quarters) in Oldham West; it would have been better still if it had fallen by nine tenths, or if nobody had voted Tory at all. Anything short of that just has to be classed as a bit disappointing.

There you are, you see: these may be superficially positive, even triumphant results, but we should always look at the full picture however unpalatable it might seem and take our warning signs wherever we find them. How true that is, how very true.

In Part 2: no, it’s not.

By Phil | Also posted in bitterness and spite, decent left, idiocy, meeja, pinkoes | Comments (0)

Dear Mr Echo

11 June 2012 – 09:30

The council are consulting on the future of our local library and leisure centre. I say “library and leisure centre”, and that seems to be what we’re likely to end up with, but they’re currently two separate things; the library, in fact, is a Carnegie library, built before the First World War with money from the great American Republican philanthropist Andrew Carnegie. (Republicans were different then.) And I say “consulting”, but they’re doing it in their own particular way: they state that they’ve identified the three key priorities in libraries’n’leisure, and then ask if we’ve got anything we’d like to add.

The key priorities are:

  1. Facilities should be sited whenever possible in community hubs tailored to the specific needs and requirements of the surrounding neighbourhoods, where residents can access activities, information and advice and use self-service in one place.
  2. The Council should continue to work with commercial partners and external funding bodies to provide new facilities with the aim of improving customer satisfaction levels and reducing running costs.
  3. All Manchester City Council residents should live within a 20-minute walk, cycle ride or public transport journey of a high-quality swimming pool.

Auf Englisch:

  1. Facilities should be sited … in community hubs … activities, information and advice … in one place.
  2. The Council should … work with commercial partners and external funding bodies … with the aim of … reducing running costs.
  3. All Manchester City Council residents should live within a 20-minute … journey of a high-quality swimming pool.

In descending order of enthusiasm, I’m at best neutral about #3; it smacks of drawing circles on a map around three or four shiny new High-Quality Pools and closing the rest. I suspect that all Manchester residents do already live in reasonably easy reach of at least a ratty old local pool, and I suspect more people get more use out of pools that way. I’m suspicious of #1, particularly when the ‘facilities’ we’re talking about are (a) leisure centres featuring a swimming pool and (b) libraries – I can’t see any benefit to anyone in having a swimming-pool in a library, or vice versa. (Has somebody misread Alan Hollingshurst?) As for #2, no, I don’t believe that this is what the council should do; in fact, I think this just what the council should not do. This is a simple case of robbing Peter to pay Paul: the only way that running costs can be reduced (while also making a profit for those “commercial partners”) is by finding the money from somewhere else, by making users pay a bit more on the door or by driving down salaries and service levels. You’d end up, all being well, with a lower council tax, higher per-usage charges and lower salaries, and with profits being taken out of the system – all of which is, of course, the precise opposite of the principles on which council-funded services were set up in the first place.

But there wasn’t a box for that. So I contented myself by adding a fourth priority

All Manchester City Council residents should live within a 20-minute walk, cycle ride or public transport journey of a high-quality library.

Curious omission, that one.

There was also some stuff about what we’d like to see in our shiny new leisure centre (didn’t answer, never go) and what we’d like to see in our shiny new library (I carefully ticked everything that you can only do in a library – see below – and left everything else blank). Then I completed the demographic information at the end, which seemed more like owning-up than usual (Oh, OK, it’s just another Guardian-reader…). And now they’ve consulted me.

There are also proposals – or advance warnings – for what’s going to happen to the Central Library, which has been closed for refurbishment for a couple of years. Things don’t look quite as bad as Jamie suggested – it will be a library, with books – but I think he was right to be suspicious. Highlights:

New ideas, new technology and new storage methods mean we can accommodate a better, more modern library service and accommodate partner organisations, but still streamline and open up spaces, making a feature of this building’s impressive architecture.

We don’t want the new library to just be a place where you come if you have an essay to write. We want you to relax there, meet your friends, drink coffee, enjoy performances, go online or just browse for a few impulse take-home treats. We want you to consider the Central Library home-from-home, open for longer and open for everyone.

They’ve been talking for some time about doing something new and different (but library-based) with the Town Hall Extension. It turns out that the Town Hall Extension will house the extended Central Library (not to be confused with the Central Library, which will be in another building). The extended Central Library will offer… oh, everything. Well, nearly everything.

The extended Central Library will be integrated with a customer service centre providing a one stop shop front for Council services. Open for longer than ever before; the library will be packed with all the things you like best, from best-sellers to DVDs, music and computers. There’ll be something on our shelves for every taste.

This is where new technology will really play its part in making the library more convenient than it’s ever been. You’ll be able to browse online, then call to pick up what you’ve chosen, then issue it yourself with your library card. You’ll be able to download e-books and audio books from home or in the library.

Everyone will find a niche in the extended Central Library, there’ll be songs and stories for little ones in a bright and exciting children’s zone; young people will have a place of their own with computers for school or for gaming, plus books and study support. There’ll be a decent latte in the café and a comfy place to sit while you sip it. We’ll have quiet places and noisy places, you simply choose where you want to be that day. New layouts and technology will enable all types of visit, from groups working collaboratively on projects through to those who want to read the paper in peace.

To sum up:

In the past, libraries were all about books. Now they’re about people.

I responded to the consultation… no I didn’t, there wasn’t one. All of this is coming, ready or not – “quiet places and noisy places”, “partner organisations” and all. But the City Council’s Web pages all have a little “Was this information helpful?” feedback widget, like so:

Image

So I left a comment there. I don’t know if anyone will ever read it, but you never know. It’s just a grumpy pushback, but sometimes a grumpy pushback is all there is to do. Here’s what I wrote:

Perhaps that last paragraph was meant to be provocative. If so, it’s succeeded.

What is the one thing that you can find in libraries and nowhere else? Books. Physical books, to search or browse through at random; books you’ve heard of but never seen, books you never knew existed, books you always wanted to read, books you never knew you wanted to read. Books that can be borrowed at no charge. Books, and lots of them.

A library is a place of discovery: it’s not a place to go for something you already want, it’s a place to go to find out what you want. And I know this may sound boring – I sometimes think the definition of a librarian is somebody who’s bored with books – but shelves of books do that job better than anything else. All that information, all those ideas, all those stories, packed into an object that fits into your pocket – and next to it, another one, and another, and another.

There’s no better aid to literacy – at any age, but especially for kids – than shelves of books, freely accessible, not being pushed at you by educational diktat or marketing hype, just sitting there waiting to be picked up and read. There are only two places in the world that can offer that, particularly to a child; one of them is a home well supplied with books, and most kids don’t have one of those. The other is a library. Turn a library into a cool multi-media meeting-place that isn’t “all about books” and you destroy the library.

Manchester City Council is one of those councils that were so Labour in the 80s that they effectively had a (right-wing, old-school) Labour council and a (left-wing) Labour opposition. The latter eventually took over, and they’ve been running on self-congratulation and a vague sense of shiny new radicalism ever since. Essentially they were New Labour avant la lettre, and they’re still New Labour now. And they’re still in charge.

By Phil | Also posted in everyday life, new labour, up to my eyes | Comments (0)

They really are a treat

23 July 2011 – 23:26

On a not particularly amusing day, I was amused by the news that the LGBT section of the EDL had planned a leafleting session on Canal Street in Manchester, but had bottled ithad a change of plan.

What do we know about Canal Street? Three things. Firstly, it is mad busy these days; the top end of the street, especially, is basically paved with little round tables, and if you pass through after work on a weekday you’ll find a good half of them occupied. (I should say before I go much further that Canal St makes a particularly good short cut from the station to a bus stop that I use; I’ve passed through quite a few times over the years.) Some of the venues are bar/clubs, some are restaurant/bars; some are ‘mixed’ (i.e. straight-friendly), some are gay but tolerant of the hen-night trade, several are gay with a capital G. It doesn’t make much difference: walk down Canal Street at 5.00 on a Thursday and they’ll all be buzzing. What a sunny Saturday afternoon is like I don’t know, but I can guess. If we assume that the Canal St clientele has a similar political makeup to the population as a whole, that would mean that 60-70% of those people were positively hostile to the EDL. Tough crowd.

Secondly, it’s been the place to go for a gay venue from way back. Back in the 80s – before any of the joints I’ve just referred to existed – there used to be more of a (heterosexual) ‘red light’ vibe to Canal St; once when I was heading for my bus a young & cheerful woman actually fell into step with me and walked along next to me describing her services. (Wonder where she is now. Hope she’s OK.) Even then, pubs like the Rembrandt and the New Union were spoken of in hushed tones, as if to say no really some of the people who go in those places actually are gay, some of them even look gay… Then came Manto, a ‘mixed’ bar at the bottom of Canal St where I used to go quite a lot on Saturday afternoons in the mid-90s; at the time I don’t think there was anywhere else in Manchester where you could drink beer while sitting on hard chairs at little round tables on a terracotta pavement, and the novelty was quite appealing for a while. There also weren’t many places where nobody would care whether you were gay or straight. Compulsory heterosexuality has never really cramped my style, but I still quite liked the atmosphere created by a bit of discreet outness. Manto was the first of many, and not the most assertive by any means. (It’s still there now, under different management, although it’s looking a bit sad; it’s been rather left behind by the development of the area.) The point is, Canal Street was gay-friendly at a time when being gay-friendly was deeply unfashionable, culturally and politically – and the nationalist right were the most hostile of all.

Thirdly, the hostility was reciprocated. Digressing a bit, here’s something I wrote in response to Michael Walzer a few years ago:

We live in a complex, enduringly structured and meaningful social world, Bhaskar argues; wherever we go and whatever we do, there will always be a lot of other people out there, whose actions and words will influence us. Consequently, we can never hope to achieve absolute liberation, a leap “into a realm free of determination”; what we can hope to do is move “from unneeded, unwanted and oppressive to needed, wanted and empowering sources of determination”.
…
the question is whether there are groups whose ‘determinations’ I regard as malign; whose freedom to infringe on my freedom of action I would therefore like to see restricted; and to whom I don’t have any reasonable means of communicating this preference, short of the use or threat of force. I’m not, by any stretch of the imagination, a street-fighting man, but I can think of several candidates without pausing for breath. A bridge in Manchester which I used to pass regularly bore the graffiti “KILL NAZI SCUM”. As I say, I’m not a violent type, and death to me is quite a big deal, but I found it very hard to see that message as anything other than a public service. The message I would like to get across doesn’t involve death – it’s more along the lines of “SEVERELY DEMORALISE NAZI SCUM” or “NAZI SCUM ARE UNWELCOME VISITORS TO THIS AREA” – but I can’t help feeling that these messages were conveyed more effectively by the graffiti as it stood.

The bridge was over the canal, beside Canal St. Happy leafleting, lads.

By Phil | Also posted in academe, beer, everyday life, political violence, the Right, you young people | Comments (0)

Always been the same

6 May 2011 – 22:52

Some thoughts on AV, mostly culled from the BBC’s Vote 2011 liveblog/twitterfeed/thing.

No to AV means PR is dead, say opponents of PR, who know how to make hay while the sun shines:

2050: No campaign director Matthew Elliott gets a massive cheer as he address supporters at the official count in London. He says the result is “emphatic” and will “settle the debate” on voting change for the “next generation”.

No to AV means PR is dead, say supporters of PR, who apparently don’t:

2130: New Statesman journalist George Eaton tweets: “Those who said “No to AV, Yes to PR” couldn’t look more foolish tonight. Electoral reform dead for a generation.”

1858: Labour’s Tessa Jowell, an AV supporter, says the issue is now closed and there should be no more talk of changing the voting system. The “chance has gone”, she tells Sky News.

You’re all thick, says Prof:

2115: Elections expert Prof John Curtice says the No campaign has apparently won the referendum by securing the support of older people, Conservatives and those who have not enjoyed a university education.

Steady on, say punters:

1920: David Pybus in Whitby writes: “I resent the implication that I’ve been swayed by a dirty No campaign or an inadequate Yes campaign. I haven’t listened to either of them as I had a view before the campaigns started – I voted No because I didn’t want a system introduced that allowed floating voters to have as many votes as there are candidates instead of casting one vote honestly for their preferred candidate”.

2036: Bashir Shah in Blackburn writes: “We were promised PR – we got sold down the river by Clegg and the Lib Dems with AV – a costly, unworkable system that would have caused more confusion and even less participation. The UK has answered in the only way it knew how and the only way it could – NO to AV and NO to the Lib Dems”

2136: Simon Reid in Slough, writes: “Dismayed at the condescending attitude of some Yes supporters. However the essence of democracy is the election of the most supported, not the least unsupported, and so I feel it was doomed to failure. PR would be a different matter, with a genuine alternative”

And it could all have been so different!

2112: It is scant consolation but Yes voters have prevailed in Oxford. There’s a certain irony here as their varsity rivals Cambridge were among only a handful of other areas to support change

Cambridge Yes vote: 54.3%. Oxford Yes vote: 54.1%. Seriously, there is no need to overthink this. Of the minority who bothered to vote, nearly 70% voted No. If seven people vote one way and three vote the other, it’s not generally the seven whose behaviour needs explaining – least of all by invoking their deficient education or creeping senility. The Yes camp scraped a majority in a handful of highly atypical urban districts (they don’t come much more atypical than Oxford and Cambridge), and even there the vote was hardly a thumping majority. (Manchester: 44.5% Yes. Even in Brighton the Yes vote got stuck below 50% – 49.9%, to be precise.)

All that’s just happened is that a big and unpredictable change was proposed, and it was rejected. It wasn’t an outstandingly good change (there were plenty of good arguments against it, and almost all of its main proponents had been in favour of something else a year ago); its effects weren’t explained very well; and the campaign in its favour was spectacularly bad. The entirely unsurprising result was that only 30% of the people bought it. (If we’re talking about campaigns, I have to admit that the No campaign was even worse, but they didn’t have to convince anyone; voting No just meant that you didn’t want the Yes campaign to win.)

A horrible Tory gloats horribly:

The idea that anyone would see Tony Robinson or Eddie Izzard as anything other than a paid-up member of the metropolitan elite was risible. The “Yes” campaign made no attempt to deploy any arguments, or any personnel, with appeal beyond a narrow slice of the soft Left – the one constituency whose support was guaranteed in any case.

The liberal Left was, with pleasing karma, undone by its own narcissism. “Yes” campaigners seemed genuinely not to understand that Caroline Lucas, Ed Miliband and Benjamin Zephaniah do not, among them, cover the entire political spectrum.

(Don’t tell me you didn’t just wince, hypocrite lecteur.)

Another Tory tells it like it is:

Most Liberal Democrats loathe being in coalition with the Conservatives – not least because they know they are now loathed in turn by the ex-Labour supporters who have been lending them their votes since the Iraq War. This is a divided and unhappy party which was never keen on AV in the first place and was neither inclined nor able to win over a sceptical public; any energy it had left was devoted to its traditional pursuits of bellyaching and character assassination. I’m sorry if I’m labouring the point, but there was a reason that the Yes to AV campaign turned so nasty, and that was because it was dominated by Liberal Democrats.

And the fat lady sings:

2015: Actor Stephen Fry tweets: “We AV yessers got our botties spanked. Hey ho. Such is democracy.”

By Phil | Also posted in bitterness and spite, pinkoes, politics, the Right | Comments (1)

Cold water in the face

13 January 2011 – 22:12

A remarkable variety of people have poured scorn on Clegg Minor’s contribution to the Sun, and rightly so. The point I want to make, following on from that fourth link, is that we need to watch the Liberal Democrats – now more than ever. (‘Watch’ here includes ‘exacerbate the contradictions within’; there are some good people in Clegg’s party, even now.) The problem is not just that the party’s support is going down the drain, or that the party’s reputation as a byword for unscrupulous vote-whoring has escaped the politically active minority and gone viral: trust can always be regained, to a greater or lesser extent. (And at the end of the day they don’t have to outrun the bear: it doesn’t matter if they don’t look whiter-than-white any more, just as long as they look cleaner than the other two parties.) What’s more to the point is that the reputational capital the party built by coherently positioning itself to the Left of New Labour was thrown to the winds last May; a sizeable chunk of the party’s 2010 vote went with it, and it’s not coming back. On top of that, the experience of coalition – the extraordinarily passive and timorous experience of coalition – is surely chipping away at the party’s bedrock support: from David Steel back to Jo Grimond, the party always stood for something, whatever that might actually be in any given period. The ‘standing for’ part seems to elude the party at the moment – quite possibly because they’ve been stitched up like a kipper by their coalition partner – and their former supporters have noticed.

The problem for the Lib Dem leadership is that they need to stem the flow of disaffected supporters. (The party took 23% of the vote last May; UK Polling Report currently has them averaging 9%, and doesn’t record a single poll when they’ve exceeded 15% since the beginning of November.) Or if they can’t do that – and they haven’t had much luck so far – they need to get support from somewhere else. And cue “Alarm Clock Britain”:

There are millions of people in Alarm Clock Britain. People, like Sun readers, who have to get up every morning and work hard to get on in life. People who want their kids to get ahead. People who don’t want to rely on state handouts. People who don’t need politicians to tell them what to think or how to live their lives. People who are not poor but struggle to stay out of the red.

They are the backbone of Britain. These are the people who will get this country moving again. It is their hard graft, day in, day out, that will get us out of the hole Labour left us in.

This Government is formed by a coalition of two parties and we want to join the people of Alarm Clock Britain in another coalition. A coalition of people prepared to roll up their sleeves and get the nation back on its feet. Ed Miliband may be prepared to hide under his duvet from the problems Labour left us with. But we will get up every morning and face up to them. In Alarm Clock Britain, people don’t want a handout but they appreciate a helping hand. And that is exactly what the Coalition Government is offering them.

I know that times are difficult right now. We are having to make cuts to pay off Labour’s debts and some bills are going up. Now more than ever, politicians have to be clear who they are standing up for. Be in no doubt, I am clear about who that is.

That is why the Liberal Democrats made a promise to voters on the front of our manifesto. That no basic rate taxpayer will pay any tax on the first £10,000 they earn. We’ve already taken the first steps which will take nearly 900,000 out of paying tax altogether. From April, every single taxpayer earning less than £42,500 a year will see their income tax bill cut by £200. By the time of the next election, 23 million people will be paying £700 less.

The Government is lending a hand in other ways, too.

(That’s enough Lib Dem promises – Ed.)

“Now more than ever, politicians have to be clear who they are standing up for. Be in no doubt, I am clear about who that is.” And who is he standing up for? Why, it’s you, you lucky Sun-reader! “People, like Sun readers, who have to get up every morning and work hard to get on in life.” People in work, in other words. Follow it through: these are also people who “want their kids to get ahead”, “don’t want to rely on state handouts” and (bizarrely) “don’t need politicians to tell them what to think or how to live their lives”. And they’re “the backbone of Britain”: Nick Clegg thinks they’re great, he really does.

Obviously life isn’t always quite that neat, but that’s OK too. Maybe you are receiving benefits of some sort or other – lots of working people do – but that’s all right: you’re just one of those people who “don’t want a handout but … appreciate a helping hand”. Maybe you’ve found that you just can’t “get on in life”, no matter how early you start work, but not to worry – you’re not poor, it’s just that you “struggle to stay out of the red”.

Which is just as well, because if you were poor, or – God forbid – if you didn’t have a job to get up for in the morning, then this offer would no longer apply. You would no longer be putting in the “hard graft, day in, day out, that will get us out of the hole Labour left us in”; on the contrary, you would be digging that hole deeper with every day you lived on benefits, and making life harder for “the backbone of Britain” with every morning that you didn’t stir from your lazy idle bed.

Who Nick Clegg is standing up against turns out to be just as important as who he’s standing up for. The message seems to go something like this: Tired after a long day? Taking on extra shifts? Working unpaid overtime? Blame them – blame the workshy, blame the bone-idle, blame all those people living on benefits. They don’t know the meaning of a hard day’s work, not like you do… This would be nasty, vindictive stuff at the best of times. At a time when the unemployment rate stands at 7.9%, or 2.5 million people – and when (as Clegg well knows) the government is poised to throw many more people out of work – it’s outrageous.

Having abandoned any pretence of a position to the Left of Labour, Clegg seems to have decided that fishing for support to the left of the Tories isn’t working either, and he’s trying out the populist far Right. I’ve got a nasty feeling this isn’t going to be a one-off: Clegg may be staring into the abyss, but he’s not going down without a fight. In 2011, watch out for our Deputy Prime Minister celebrating Crimestoppers Britain (“people who don’t want to see lynch law, but can’t let petty criminals make their lives a misery”), Easter Egg Britain (“people who are not racist, but simply know how to value their own traditions”), Beside The Seaside Britain (“people who don’t hate other nations, but know the truth of that old adage – east, west, home’s best!”) and (of course) Poppy Day Britain (“people who don’t glory in war for its own sake, but know that sometimes it is the only honourable choice”).

On the plus side, by the end of the year they’ll probably still be stuck on 9%.

Update Oldham East and Saddleworth: Labour 42.1% (up 10.3%), Liberal Democrat 31.9% (up 0.3%), Conservative 12.8% (down 13.6%); turnout 48.1% (down 14.1%). An interesting result, not least because the shares of the vote aren’t that different from earlier results:

Votes for the main parties in Oldham East and Saddleworth, 1997-2011 (rounded to nearest %)

Year Labour Lib Dem Tory Tory + LD
1997 42 35 20 55
2001 39 33 16 49
2005 41 33 18 51
2010 32 32 26 58
2011 42 32 13 45

At every election from 1997 to 2005, Labour has been at least 6% ahead of the Liberal Democrats, with the Tories taking less than 20% in third place. You could see 2010’s result as a local example of last year’s swing against Labour, and last night’s result as the return of business as usual. But if 42% and 32% are around what you’d expect Labour and the Lib Dems to be getting in OE&S, 13% is very low indeed for the Tories; there will have been some defection to the extreme right, but not a lot (the combined BNP and UKIP vote share went up by a little over 1% against last May). The best explanation is surely that the consistency of the Lib Dem vote is deceptive, and that some – perhaps quite a lot – of last night’s 32% were tactical Tory votes. It’s also worth noting that the combined Tory and Lib Dem vote was lower last night than it’s been at any time since 1997; it’s only the second time it’s been below 50% (and 2001 was an unusual election; this was the year of the BNP’s big push in Oldham, when they took 11% of the vote).

However, unlike Tom Clark, I don’t believe that this result supports Clegg’s apparent new direction:

YouGov this week reported that by 51% to 16% , the small band of remaining Liberal Democrats would prefer a Tory government led by Cameron to an Ed Miliband Labour administration.

The shrinking Lib Dem electorate, then, is now much more inclined to the centre-right than it has been historically, and Oldham suggests that as it retreats from the left it can hope to make good some of the losses by advancing on the right.

Dear oh dear. The Lib Dems have lost 14% of the 23% support it had in May 2010 – more than half; 51% of 9% equates to 20% of 23%. Lib Dem voters are more right wing than they used to be because there are fewer of them, and the left-leaning voters are the ones that have given up on the party. (As UK Polling Report puts it, “the remaining rump support for the Liberal Democrats is made up of those more positively inclined towards the Tories”.) This doesn’t mean that there are votes to be gained by “advancing on the right”; in fact it specifically and precisely means that that’s a good way to lose votes.

Nor does OE&S suggest that there are votes to be won on the Right; actually what it suggests is that the party’s vote is only holding up thanks to the generosity of Tory voters. This kind of grace and favour arrangement may keep the lights on for a while, but it doesn’t bode well for the party’s future; it suggests that a party with Liberal in the name is, once again, locked into a decaying orbit around the Conservative Party. Into which, precedent suggests, they would disappear without a trace.

Update 19/1/11 Polling data bears out my speculation that the unchanged Lib Dem percentage vote masked a partial collapse in the vote, propped up by borrowed Tory votes. UK Polling Report:

of 2010 Lib Dem voters, only 55% of those who voted in the by-election stuck with the party, with 29% instead defecting to Labour … This drop in Lib Dem support was cancelled however out by Conservative tactical voting: of 2010 Conservative voters, 33% who voted in the by-election ended up backing the Liberal Democrats.

Only 49% of the 2010 Conservative voters in the sample voted Tory in 2010; 91% of the 2010 Labour voters stayed loyal, but then there were fewer of them. Shift all the Tory-LD defectors back to the Conservatives and you get a notional Tory vote share of 22%, vying for second place with the Lib Dems on 23%. Of course, this is working back from answers to a phone poll to the actual result, which isn’t really legitimate, but what’s interesting about these figures is how much of the shift in voting patterns they do in fact seem to account for. You can do it yourself if you’ve got a spreadsheet handy:

2011 Labour = 91% 2010 Labour + 29% 2010 LD + 5% 2010 Tory (!)
2011 LD = 5% 2010 Labour (!!) + 55% 2010 LD + 33% 2010 Tory
2011 Tory = 0% 2010 Labour + 3% 2010 LD + 49% 2010 Tory

Let 2010 Labour = 32%, 2010 LD = 32% and 2010 Tory = 26%, and the 2011 figures come out at 40%, 28% and 14%; you only need to massage the figures a bit to cover variable turnout and you’ve got the real results of 42%, 32% and 13%.

These figures bear out the big difference between the Tory base and its Lib Dem counterpart. Tory support is flexible, and will go under other colours if it’s for the good of the party. Lib Dem support is just soft – and, given what they’re currently being asked to support, it’s no wonder.

By Phil | Also posted in bitterness and spite, cheery thoughts, meeja, predictions, stats, the Right | Comments (1)

Look who bought the myth

12 December 2010 – 16:22

we as a party still support the policy of moving towards the abolition of fees and I suspect that we will have something like that in our next manifesto. – Tim Farron MP, President of the Liberal Democrats

Let’s get this straight.

Firstly, the Lib Dems’ collective volte-face on tuition fees has done enormous damage to the party’s credibility on any issue you care to name. To put it bluntly, why should we believe anything they promise ever again? As for believing promises on the specific issue of moving towards the abolition of fees… words fail me. We are not going to be fooled again in the same way, by the same people, on the same issue. I’m sure lots of individual Liberal Democrats, up to and including Tim Farron, are unhappy about the way the vote went; I’m glad that so many Lib Dem MPs (including both Farron and my own MP) voted No on the day. But that day is over. For better or worse – mainly worse – the Lib Dems are not, now, a party that supports the abolition of fees. Voting Lib Dem doesn’t even mean voting for a party that supports fees being frozen, or linked to inflation, or doubled. Voting Lib Dem, as of now, means voting for the party that made it possible for the Tories to treble fees – and, failing some fairly radical developments over the next few months, that’s what it always will mean.

Secondly, there’s an argument going round (notably from Vince Cable) to the effect that we shouldn’t set too much store by what the Lib Dems said before the election – which, just for the record, was:

We will scrap unfair university tuition fees for all students taking their first degree, including those studying part-time, saving them over £10,000 each. We have a financially responsible plan to phase fees out over six years, so that the change is affordable even in these difficult economic times, and without cutting university income. We will immediately scrap fees for final year students.

We shouldn’t hold them to that undertaking, Cable told us, because it related only to the eventuality of a Liberal Democrat majority government; once they actually had to negotiate from a position of weakness, why, naturally all bets were off. There’s one obvious answer to this, which is that the promise which was signed by 500 Liberal Democrat candidates wasn’t about what the party was going to do: each of those 500 candidates (including every sitting Lib Dem MP) pledged “to vote against any increase in fees in the next parliament and to pressure the government to introduce a fairer alternative”. Not a huge amount of wiggle room there. But I don’t think the party collectively can get off the hook that easily, either. 6.8 million people voted Liberal Democrat in May; I doubt that very many of them thought the party was going to form a majority government. Nobody in the Lib Dem leadership ever said “there will have to be negotiation and in practice not all of this will get done”, because nobody needed to: Lib Dem voters were well aware that the best the party could hope for was to enter government as a junior member of a coalition. Everyone knew that what was implemented in practice would be a complex set of trade-offs, with only a few policies surviving unchanged and most being heavily watered down. But what Lib Dem voters did expect, quite reasonably, was that the party’s leaders would at least attempt to keep their promises and to implement a diluted version of their policies – not to shred their promises, implement the diametric opposite of their policies and then plead political realism.

Thirdly, a promise is not just a promise: every commitment on a single issue takes its meaning from a broader set of arguments and values. The politician who promises to keep a military shipyard open is affirming his belief in the armed forces, imperialism and the glories of war; the politician who privatises hospital cleaning services is stating her love of profit, her contempt for public service and her hatred of trade unions. (Not invariably, obviously, but I think these are good rules of thumb.) And the politician who – like Nick Clegg, before the election – commits himself to abolishing university tuition fees is also committing himself to a belief in higher education and public provision. People understand this. Clegg, Cable and the rest of the whole sick crew have not just ditched a promise; they have made a handbrake turn on two of the most important issues in politics. It’s not too much to say that they’ve gained power by promising to do the right thing, and used it to do the wrong thing.

There are three distinct but related political fallacies here. The first point – like Farron’s incredible comments – relates to the fallacy of good intentions: ask not who we are, where we’ve been or what we’ve done, ask what we can do for you next time! The second fallacy you could call the fallacy of executive omnipotence: the assumption that electoral promises relate only to the situation in which the party is powerful enough to have a free choice about whether to implement every single one of them; if those conditions don’t obtain (as they never really do), all the promises can be shelved, or turned into open-ended statements of aspiration. The third is the fallacy of the single promise: the idea that individual political promises are simply that – single items on a list of promises, like beads on a string – so that a politician should be held to account, at most, for the number of promises he or she fails to implement. In any case, they couldn’t realistically have been expected to implement all of them (fallacy 2) – and isn’t it more important to think about what they can do for you next time (fallacy 1)?

Instead of judging politicians on their record and on their overall political direction, we’re implicitly being asked – by Farron as well as Clegg – to look at policy commitments as free-floating mood statements, and give our vote to the politician who seems to be making the right kind of noises. Taken together, this adds up to a formidable depoliticisation of politics, as well as a Get Out Of Jail Free card for individual politicians.

Or you could just call it base, cynical vote-whoring. And from the Liberal Democrats, too – I’m shocked, shocked.

Update If you want to know what the fees issue is really about – and why the reaction of so many academics has been one of incredulous horror – read this. As Colin rightly points out, a graduate tax could have forced students to pay just as much money for their education, and would have been easier to administer – and easier to make more equitable – than the nightmare system we look like being landed with. However, a tax would also have been channelled through the state, effectively keeping universities publicly funded; it also wouldn’t have set universities competing against one another on price, and hence on cost (if you can deliver the same teaching with fewer staff, you won’t need to charge your students as much). As our Vice-Chancellor recently commented, few of us went into higher education with the aim of working in the free market, but that’s where most of us look like ending up.

By Phil | Also posted in academe, bitterness and spite, cheery thoughts, saying the thing that is not, the Right | Comments (0)
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