Tally ho! But they won't kill the fox
Published 12 June 2000
What did you do during the war? I cycled over the Pennines and missed the whole damned thing. The "class war" spanned the Whitsun recess and drew to a close when Tony Blair returned from paternity leave. Alastair Campbell dismissed talk of class war as absolute rubbish, and that was that. Yet I had believed, as I listened to the bulletins amid the northern gales, that something dramatic was going on. Indeed, for days, newspapers and radio bulletins reported little else but the class war.
It was a characteristically new Labour episode. The eruption of headlines meant everything and nothing. They were choreographed by the government and then stopped by the government, which blamed the media for reporting what ministers had themselves started. The episode will not lead anywhere significant, and yet it was in itself illuminating. The "class war" will join the welfare green paper, the transport white paper, and countless other moments that have lit up the political sky, before the government itself blew out the light.
Gordon Brown meant what he said about Laura Spence's rejection from Oxford. He has no time for privileged elitism. His oral outburst was the equivalent of his earlier sartorial rebellion, when he refused to wear a dinner-suit at the annual Mansion House dinner. I would guess that Brown is not enthralled, either, by the military establishment; in public spending rounds, Brown has sought, largely unsuccessfully, to prune the defence budget. I would not be surprised if, deep within his soul, he is no great fan of the monarchy - although he is too much of a politician ever to give voice on this issue.
Brown's unstuffiness says something refreshing about this government as a whole. For all the misleading talk of a new, omnipotent Blairite establishment, ministers still regard themselves as outsiders. After all, they were out of power for 18 years and spent much of that time assuming they would never get near government. In its own way, Blair's conference speech on the forces of conservatism sounded like an outsider's cry of despair about the challenge of reforming Britain's outdated institutions. This government has not grown arrogant with power. If anything, its leading members remain frustrated and nervy.
Brown has emerged as the government's best instinctive tactician.While portrayed as the government's great brooding philosopher, he can think in terms of headlines. I remember waiting to interview him before last year's Labour Party conference. A television was on in his office. He strode in during a report on the Lib Dems' conference. "What's the time? Oh, it's ten past one . . . that's quite high up in the running order for a package on the Lib Dems. It must be a quiet news day." He reads many books and works endless hours. He has been, fleetingly, a journalist - which showed when he single-handedly transformed the news agenda: before I headed for the Pennines, William Hague was everywhere; by the time I returned, Hague was being attacked by the Sun for defending the old Establishment against the crusading Brown.
But will Brown act on his outrage at the Oxbridge cliques? I doubt it. That is why Campbell, commenting on the press interpretation of Brown's comments, declared that the brief class war was over. On the whole, leading new Labour figures prefer symbolic gestures to implementing policies that carry a whiff of danger. Brown eschewed a dinner-jacket at the Mansion House, but what policies accompanied the radical gesture? His bold move implied nothing of substance.
One policy would, however, put some beef on his Oxbridge onslaught. Labour considered it briefly. On New Year's Day in 1995, David Blunkett told a Sunday newspaper that the party had not ruled out the possibility of imposing VAT on school fees. That morning, with most of the country recovering from the revelries of the night before, the Blairite bleepers started to vibrate furiously. By Sunday lunchtime, the policy had changed. Blunkett first heard confirmation that the change had taken place as he sat in Radio 4's The World This Weekend studio waiting to be interviewed. Brown led the frenetic bleeping, insisting that VAT on fees should be emphatically ruled out.
Blair, too, enjoys radical gestures while sometimes standing back from the policy implications. He opened his speech at last year's Labour Party conference, where a huge demonstration against a ban on hunting took place outside, by declaring that it was a good day for foxes; he added mischievously: "Oh well, tally ho!"
He has no time for fox-hunting. But as he was making his endearing gestures, a scheme was being hatched to delay any moves towards a fox-hunting ban in this parliament. Sure enough, a day or two later, Margaret Beckett announced that the ban would have to await a fully reformed House of Lords. Now a clever scheme is being devised along the lines of the Thatcher government's approach to Sunday trading. It is more than likely that MPs, probably after the election, will be given a choice of options on fox-hunting and allowed to decide for themselves.
Similarly in education, a more delicate, pragmatic approach has prevailed. Behind the scenes, Blunkett has been encouraging Oxbridge vice-chancellors to take more pupils from comprehensives, while working tirelessly to raise the standards in all state schools. This neatly avoids dealing with the structures that, partly, determine the standards in schools and universities.
I understand why the government treads carefully around these issues, but it treads too carefully too often. There has been no class war. The gales on the Pennines were far more real and warlike than the distant din from Westminster.
Post this article to
We want to encourage people to comment on our content and to exchange views with other readers and hope this will be done on a courteous basis. However, if you encounter posts which are offensive please let us know by emailing comments@newstatesman.co.uk and we will take swift action where necessary.
