Jeremy Browne: Clegg’s man in the Home Office

The Orange Book liberal is preparing for a renewal of coalition vows after the next election.

The Home Office is not a place to be squeamish about state power. As the department responsible for preventing crime and disorder, its stock-in-trade is monitoring, control and coercion. Under the coalition government, it seems perpetually to be “cracking down” on something.
 
It was the Home Office that came up with the idea of driving mobile billboards inviting illegal immigrants to “Go home or face arrest” around multiracial boroughs of London. It was a mistake, says Jeremy Browne, the Liberal Democrat minister of state at the department responsible. “I was not consulted beforehand, neither was Nick Clegg, and that is a serious oversight.” Browne defends the voluntary repatriation policy but is scathing about the way the signal was sent out: “The debate about immigration should be conducted in a tone that is civilised and humane, rather than pandering to the least attractive elements in the human spirit.”
 
We meet in Browne’s sparse room at the Home Office, where he has been for just a year. He was previously Clegg’s man at the Foreign Office. The move was seen in Westminster as an attempt to get more leverage in a department that often aggravates liberal scruples. But if Browne’s unofficial job title is thwarter-in-chief of authoritarian Tory tendencies, he isn’t letting on. The Conservatives, he says, are the second most liberal party when it comes to home affairs, while Labour attacks the coalition from populist, right-wing positions.
 
“The Conservatives may be a magnetic force pulling the Lib Dems away from a purer form of liberalism but it’s not true that if we were in coalition with Labour, it would represent some easy, liberal utopia. There would be a much bigger gap to bridge to try to accommodate the authoritarian instincts of the Labour Party.”
 
Browne is a classical liberal from the Orange Book wing of his party – the side that was suspicious of socialism and state intervention even before the opportunity arose to make common cause with the Conservatives. While some left-leaning Lib Dems are wary of their party’s proximity to David Cameron, Browne is certain that the Tory leader has a firmer grasp of the challenges facing the country than Ed Miliband does. He declares “the global race” – Cameron’s pet theme – to be “the big issue of our time”. By contrast, he describes Labour as “intellectually lazy, running on empty” and suffering from “a leadership void”. “I just don’t think of them as equipped to run the country,” he says.
 
It sounds as if Browne is preparing for a renewal of coalition vows after the next election. There are, he claims, Tories who would rather keep the current arrangement than go it alone and be held to ransom by maverick backbenchers. For these “moderate Conservatives”, the worst-case scenario at the next election is a small majority. “They would be beholden to the people on the right of the party, who have a lot more in common with Ukip than they do with David Cameron.”
 
In Browne’s view, there are between 25 and 30 Tory MPs who reject the Prime Minister’s authority. (“They actually like the idea of wielding their collective muscle to push him around.”) He says that, as a result, “The Conservatives would have difficulty governing in as stable a fashion as this coalition government has done with a majority of much less than 40 or 50.”
 
This is a rehearsal of the Lib Dems’ pitch at the next election. Neither of the two main parties, they will say, can be trusted to govern alone; both need leavening with a dose of Cleggism. It is an optimistic line from a party whose poll ratings languish in single figures. Ukip, I suggest, is now performing the function that the Lib Dems once had as the place voters go to express a rejection of the big Westminster parties.
 
Browne does not recoil from the comparison. Nigel Farage’s party, he says, is mimicking the strategy that the Lib Dems used to graduate from protest vehicle to potential party of government. Ukip is here to stay. “We are moving away from bipolar politics, where every opinion is corralled into two main parties, to a situation where more and more things are being unpackaged.”
 
Browne even argues that the Lib Dems and Ukip, despite competing for third place in opinion polls, represent a more precise account of the rival visions that politics offers Britain. “Essentially, the big choice the country faces is not really embodied that well by the two biggest parties: it is represented by the Lib Dems and Ukip. That’s where it’s thrown into stark relief.” He defines the contest as between “pulling the drawbridge up, erecting barriers to the outside”, and “being a welcoming, liberal, outward-looking, internationalist country that embraces the opportunities of globalisation”.
 
That means being more relaxed about immigration than British politics seems to allow. Browne describes himself as part of the “unfashionable minority” that celebrates the opening of British borders to EU workers from eastern Europe. “I don’t think there was a mistake. It was transformational in terms of Britain’s relationship with countries like Poland . . . It was in our foreign policy interest but, at a much more direct, micro level, there are lots of employers in my constituency and around the country who are full of praise for the contribution that Poles have made to their businesses and the economy more generally.”
 
Will the Lib Dems be so enthusiastic about the Romanian and Bulgarian migrants who will enjoy new freedoms to work in Britain from next January? “They’re only complying with the same rules as British people who live in Spain or have holiday houses in France, or who work in Germany.” Browne is quick to add the caveat that the influx has put pressure on public services, which accounts for much of the political backlash. “But I think if you look at the overall ledger . . . the positives outweigh the negatives.” 
Nick Clegg and Jeremy Browne speak with a police officer at the Stockwell Park Estate on April 25, 2013 in London. Photograph: Getty Images.

Rafael Behr is political columnist at the Guardian and former political editor of the New Statesman

This article first appeared in the 16 September 2013 issue of the New Statesman, Syria: The deadly stalemate

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Charlottesville: a town haunted by the far right

Locals fear a bitter far right will return.

On 12 August, a car ploughed down pedestrians in the street where I used to buy my pecan pies. I had recently returned to London from Charlottesville, Virginia – the scene of what appears to have been an act of white supremacist terrorism – having worked and taught at the university there for four years. While I unpacked boxes of books, the streets I knew so well were full of hate and fire.

The horror began on the evening of Friday 11 August, when thugs with torches marched across the “Lawn”. Running through the heart of the university, this is where, each Halloween, children don ghoulish costumes and trick-or-treat delighted and generous fourth-year undergraduates.

But there were true monsters there that night. They took their stand on the steps of the neoclassical Rotunda – the site of graduation – to face down a congregation about to spill out of St Paul’s Episcopal opposite.

Then, on Saturday morning, a teeming mass of different groups gathered in Emancipation Park (formerly Lee Park), where my toddler ran through splash pads in the summer.

We knew it was coming. Some of the groups were at previous events in Charlottesville’s “summer of hate”. Ever since a permit was granted for the “Unite the Right” march, we feared that this would be a tipping point. I am unsure whether I should have been there, or whether I was wise to stay away.

The truth is that this had nothing to do with Charlottesville – and everything to do with it. From one perspective, our small, sleepy university town near the Blue Ridge Mountains was the victim of a showdown between out-of-towners. The fighting was largely not between local neo-Nazis and African Americans, or their white neighbours, for that matter. It was between neo-Nazis from far afield – James Alex Fields, Jr, accused of being the driver of the lethal Dodge Challenger, was born in Kentucky and lives in Ohio – and outside groups such as “Antifa” (anti-fascist). It was a foreign culture that was foisted upon the city.

Charlottesville is to the American east coast what Berkeley is to the west: a bastion of liberalism and political correctness, supportive of the kind of social change that the alt-right despises. Just off camera in the national newsfeeds was a banner hung from the public  library at the entrance of Emancipation Park, reading: “Proud of diversity”.

I heard more snippets of information as events unfolded. The counter-protesters began the day by drawing on the strength of the black church. A 6am prayer meeting at our local church, First Baptist on Main (the only church in Charlottesville where all races worshipped together before the Civil War), set the tone for the non-violent opposition.

The preacher told the congregation: “We can’t hate these brothers. They have a twisted ideology and they are deeply mistaken in their claim to follow Christ, but they are still our brothers.” Then he introduced the hymns. “The resistance of black people to oppression has only been kept alive through music.”

The congregation exited on to Main Street, opposite my old butcher JM Stock Provisions, and walked down to the statue of Meriwether Lewis and William Clark – the early 19th-century Bear Grylls types who explored the west. They went past Feast! – the delicacy market where we used to spend our Saturday mornings – and on to the dreamy downtown mall where my wife and I strolled on summer evenings and ate southern-fried chicken at the Whiskey Jar.

The permit for the “protest” was noon to 5pm but violence erupted earlier. Between 10.30am and 12pm, the white supremacists, protected by a paramilitary guard, attacked their opponents. As the skirmishes intensified, police were forced to encircle the clashing groups and created, in effect, a bizarre zone of “acceptable” violence. Until the governor declared a state of emergency, grown men threw bottles of piss at each other.

At noon, the crowd was dispersed and the protesters spilled out into the side streets. This was when the riot climaxed with the horrific death of the 32-year-old Heather Heyer. Throughout Saturday afternoon and evening, the far-right groups marauded the suburbs while residents locked their doors and closed their blinds.

I sat in London late into the night as information and prayer requests trickled through. “There are roughly 1,000 Nazis/KKK/alt-right/southern nationalists still around – in a city of 50,000 residents. If you’re the praying type, keep it up.”

No one in Charlottesville is in any doubt as to how this atrocity became possible. Donald Trump has brought these sects to group consciousness. They have risen above their infighting to articulate a common ground, transcending the bickering that mercifully held them back in the past.

In the immediate aftermath, there is clarity as well as fury. My colleague Charles Mathewes, a theologian and historian, remarked: “I still cannot believe we have to fight Nazis – real, actual, swastika-flag-waving, be-uniformed, gun-toting Nazis, along with armed, explicit racists, white supremacists and KKK members. I mean, was the 20th century simply forgotten?”

There is also a sense of foreboding, because the overwhelming feeling with which the enemy left was not triumph but bitterness. Their permit had been to protest from noon to 5pm. They terrorised a town with their chants of “Blood and soil!” but their free speech was apparently not heard. Their safe space, they claim, was not protected.

The next day, the organiser of the march, Jason Kessler, held a press conference to air his grievances. The fear is that the indignant white supremacists will be back in greater force to press their rights.

If that happens, there is one certainty. At one point during the dawn service at First Baptist, a black woman took the stand. “Our people have been oppressed for 400 years,” she said. “What we have learned is that the only weapon which wins the war is love.”

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear