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Showing posts with label the Labour Party. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the Labour Party. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
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There is a spectre haunting Labour. And it's got a truly magnificent beard.
I turned 18 a couple of days after the 2001 General Election. Had I been able to vote it would have been the only time I could have voted Labour without holding my nose. After the disaster of the Iraq War, the crackdown on civil liberties and the party gradually slinking towards the centre right the only reason to vote Labour became "well, at least they're not the Tories".
Now they are. In 2015 the differences between the two parties are minute; both advocate the discredited economic dogma of austerity; both treat heavy cuts to public services as a necessity; both are in thrall to the false narrative of 'strivers and scroungers' and, most disturbingly, both are eager to pile any blame on those in society least able to defend themselves. After Harriet Harman's disturbing edict that MPs to abstain on the Welfare Bill, you can't help but wonder... What's the point of the Labour Party?
That question was on the tip of everyone's tongue at the Bloomsbury Central Baptist Church last night. This was a joint meeting hosted by two candidates who hope to shape the future of Labour; Diane Abbott and Jeremy Corbyn. Abbott has designs on becoming the next Mayor of London, Corbyn on being the leader of the party and next Prime Minister. Joining them were a smattering of personalities from the Labour left, Clive Webb MP, Councillor Claudia Webb, Christine Shawcroft of the Labour Party NEC, Andrew Berry from UNISON and Siddo Dwyer, Young Labour BME rep.
The atmosphere was electric. Queues snaked around the block, the hall rapidly filling to standing room only. Organisers urged the 800 strong crowd to "share like good socialists" and squeeze together to fit more in. Even after this a sizeable number were pressed against the back wall, sitting on the steps between rows - or relegated to an overspill room where the speeches were televised. The source of all this excitement? The MP for Islington North, Jeremy Corbyn.
Corbyn has electrified this leadership contest, throwing the qualities (or lack of) his three opponents into sharp relief. Andy Burnham, previous the de facto 'left' candidate has proved to lack any political credibility whatsoever, abstaining from the Welfare Bill then criticising it. Yvette Cooper is... I don't know.. her campaign seems largely predicated on her gender rather than any discernible political stance. And then there's Liz Kendall. At least she's got principles. The problem is they're the principles of a middle-of-the-road Tory MP. Perhaps most telling is that in a poisonous sea of anti-Corbyn sentiment, none of them has managed to articulate any coherent argument either against Corbyn's politics or for their own.
In this field of non-entities, Corbyn stands out a mile. Rather than some freshly birthed, Ozwald Boateng-clad PPE mannequin, he's a backbencher of more than thirty years experience, an iron clad set of principles, a powerful sense of justice, an almost surreal humility and a truly excellent beard. I'd first met him during the election campaign at a housing hustings organised by Islington Private Tenants, and before all this leadership hoo-ha he impressed me as an intelligent, practical man who genuinely cares about his constituents.
He would be an excellent party leader; able to counter Cameron's slick n' heartless positioning with integrity and compassion. He recognises that at the heart of Britain's problems is social inequality. As he spoke, there was palpable anger in his voice at the notion of London being filled with uninhabited luxury flats while homeless people scratch out a life in the gutter below. When he straightforwardly decries benefits systems under which people suffering from obvious disabilities are pronounced 'fit for work', driving some to suicide, he doesn't sugarcoat it. When he berates those who'd sell council houses to private landlords, renting the state's property back to the tenants whopaid for their construction, you feel a weird excited thrill. He means what he says.
All other candidates are engaged in the triangulation game - desperately trying to position their views to appeal to vacillating Tory voters. They squabble amongst each other to be 'tough on immigration' or 'willing to make the difficult cuts': their views an amorphous, shifting entity apparently dictated by the whims of the right-wing press. This inevitably leads to our homogenous politics where parties quibble over minute policy differences. Their intellectually bankrupt position can be boiled down thusly: the Tories won, maybe if Labour is Tory they will win too.
Then there are those within the party intent on smearing Corbyn; denouncing him as unelectable and treating his supporters like infants. "Now now" they condescend, "we know you're disgusted by politicians who abandon their principles to seize power, but we're never going to seize power if you don't abandon your principles." Bollocks to that! I gritted my teeth and voted for Labour's neoliberal rubbish in 2010 and 2015, and what did that achieve? Two crushing defeats! Creeping ever more towards the right is not the answer.
Corbyn's runaway success in the polls, gathering more volunteers and donations than his campaign knows what to do with, amassing crowds of energetic supporters who cram themselves into last night's speech, prove that there's a burning need for socialism in this age of economic Darwinism, where a person's value is dictated by their bank balance.
Doomsayers predict the end of the Labour Party in the event of a Corbyn victory. Apparently the party will split, fundraising will dry up, voters will disappear into the ether and the party will become a mainstream laughing stock. But what if the other three win? Their slow transformation into a Diet Tory party squashes political debate - what's the point of democracy when the opposition party is in ideological lockstep with the government?
Last night's speeches were delivered to an intelligent, active audience hungry for political change. These have been taking place up and down the country; rooms packed full of those ecstatic that a politician with unimpeachable socialist convictions is primed for success. The idea of Burnham, Kendall or Cooper filling a hall to bursting point is laughable (I doubt they could fill a phonebox) - theirs is a cynical brand of politics that's proved to have gossamer thin credibility.
Labour shouldn't be terrified of a Corbyn victory. Rather, they should be thankful they have men and women of Corbyn's calibre in their back benches. He should win this election. He must win this election.
He will win this election.
Monday, October 22, 2012
Monday, October 22, 2012
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In London On Saturday over 150,000 people beat a raucous and angry path through the corridors of power. It was a march for 'A Future That Works'. From all over the country they gathered: teachers, nurses, bakers, shop workers, civil servants, schoolchildren and many, many more. Whistles were blown, banners were raised, drums were beaten and brass bands played triumphant tunes. The leader of the opposition spoke to the gathered crowd in Hyde Park, followed by the luminaries of the Trade Union movement. It was a glorious day. And it achieved fuck all.
Does that sound harsh? As the crowds walked down the Embankment and through Westminster on their way to Hyde Park spirits were high. It's hard not to feel inspired at the sight of tens of thousands standing up for the rights of essential workers, standing up for those who strive away on vanishing or frozen wages to keep the country running. Under this government the populace sometimes feels like it's undergoing a mass conversion to an unsympathetic, cruel and predatory outlook. The victims are those who rely most upon the state, the ill, the poor, the young, the disabled, the unemployed, the elderly. Meanwhile, Cameron shamelessly enacts a tax cut that means those earning over a million pounds a year will be £40,000 a year better off. Who can stand to live in a land where those with the least pay for the mistakes of those with the most? The rich get richer, and the poor get poorer (or just die off, whichever is quicker).
As we march through the streets we see all kinds of banners. Some have (literally) been through the wars, rail workers banners faded with age showing streamlined art deco locomotives speeding through the countryside. Shipbuilders use the RMS Queen Elizabeth as a symbol of their technical excellence. Trombonists play happy tunes as they march under the orange and black banner of the GMB. You begin to get caught up in the fever of the crowd. "Surely" you think, "surely if this many people feel strongly, if this crowd can gather from around the country, then something can be done!"
But what can be done? There's a lot of sound and fury here, but it feels increasingly and frustratingly unfocussed. As we get to Hyde Park we're directed towards the stage. The ground is soggy underfoot, with wood chips being put down to try and soak up some of the puddles that dot the field. As I move towards the front to get a good view I realise "... is that Glenn "he's old and sullen vote for' Cullen up there?". It is! Or rather, it's James Smith wearing a fetching scarf and explaining the health and safety procedures for the site to us. Seeing him up there gives the moment an odd tinge, satire and reality are colliding. 'The Thick of It' is frequently spookily prescient at times, and at that moment I wouldn't have been particularly surprised if Nicola Murray had wandered on stage to give a typically incompetent and blithering speech.
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| James Smith |
But first some music by Natalie McCool. After building up this head of steam through London, and finally arriving at Hyde Park, pumped up, ready to cheer and yell, it was a bit strange to watch a band for a bit. Especially as their songs were pretty apolitical. The highlight of their short set was an acoustic cover of some of the 'Drive' soundtrack. Now, I really like the 'Drive' soundtrack, especially 'Night Call' and 'A Real Hero', which they mixed together, but what I wanted to hear was something spiky, sloganeering and punky. I wanted to hear a call to arms, to see some real anger on stage. But I suppose some low-key acoustic indie music about feelings n' stuff is good too. I understand that Natalie McCool and her band were there as grateful recipients of some young person's music grant, which is nice, but as good as they were I wished they'd played something with a little more fire in the belly.
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| Natalie McCool |
Like a general surveying his troops he majestically mounted the stage, and you could just tell that behind that noble countenance was a speech primed to unite us all under his banner, the battlecry that would fill us with vim and vinegar and send us out off around the country to devote our time and energy to kicking this cabal of stuck-up, psychopathic rich boys out of government. A hush fell upon the crowd. Miliband began his speech and told us that basically he agrees with what the government is doing but if he was in power maybe he'd try doing it a bit slower.
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| Ed Miliband |
It was the speech of someone who was obliged to be there rather than someone who wanted to attend. Strategically speaking his lack of effort has a point. I mean, this isn't exactly a crowd of undecided voters, no-one here is hardly likely to decide to vote Conservative just because he doesn't tell them what they want to hear. But it just seemed too transparent, as if he not only assumes he has our votes, but refuses to even humour us by acknowledging our existence. The momentum that I'd felt during the march itself seemed to dissipate like a mirage in the desert. Standing up on that stage was the real face of political change, and it's the exact same thing as I detest, just with a slightly more attractive surface coating of red paint.
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| Outside Downing Street |
The government has managed to legislate their way exactly where they want to be in relation to strikes. Any 'legal' strike would be challenged this way and that through the courts until the 'correct' verdict was reached. Any illegal strike would merely be another cudgel for the government to beat 'shirking' workers with and further their policy of divide and rule against the working class. A ripple of alarm might spread through Westminster if they realised the workers could organise themselves in one nationwide strike, but the government has the tools, both legislatively, politically and physically, to contain it.
What is the effective response to austerity? Around the world governments are bulk-buying tear gas to defend themselves against their angry citizens. It seems that after a certain economic choke point there springs a violent street based resistance to austerity, as seen across Europe and particularly in Greece. But what's as apparent is that governments will not shy from inflicting violence back upon those who might threaten the enactment of their crippling and failed economic philosophy.
We're seeing our public services being diced up piecemeal and sold to shady, politically corrupt companies while millionaires become multi-millionaires on the proceeds. In a way it's darkly funny that David Cameron accuses Ed Miliband of waging a class war. As if we should be so lucky. Weirdly enough it falls to one of the richest men in the world to point out what is blindingly obvious, as Warren Buffett says: "There's class warfare alright, but it's my class, the rich class, that's making war, and we're winning." It's a depressing notion, and if you consider the current government as waging a social war against the poor, then it becomes increasingly apparent that we have no weapons with which to combat them.
As I was walking away from the protest I came across a miniature street occupation at the corner of Oxford Street and Bond Street. Music was pumping out, and people with scarves wrapped around their faces were busy dancing and blocking traffic on one of the busiest thoroughfares in London. Police vans dotted the streets, with officers looking on, presumably waiting for the order to go in, batons swinging. It was a pointless bit of protest theatrics, the equivalent of an ant tickling an elephant's foot. But pointless and juvenile as it was, it was still as effective as anything I'd seen the union leaders on stage at Hyde Park suggest.
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| Police on Oxford Street |
Of all the positive, optimistic banners of strength through unity I saw there was one that stuck in my mind in it's frankness, accuracy and anger. It scared me a little, but if anything is pointing the way to the future, it's this:
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