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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As we reach the 50th anniversary of China's Cultural Revolution, are we seeing echoes of Mao?

With the official verdict being that Mao was “70 per cent good, 30 per cent bad”, his legacy is never far from the mind of today's politicians.

The Great Hall of the People on the western side of Tiananmen Square in Beijing is normally the scene for formal occasions, such as the annual meeting of the National People’s Congress. In early May, however, it resonated with singing by a group of young women, 56 Flowers, at a concert staged by an organisation calling itself the “Propaganda Department Office of Socialist Core-Value Propaganda and Education”. Tickets sold for up to £200.

The repertoire of the singing group was of a kind heard only rarely in China today. It consisted mainly of anthems from the Mao Zedong era, among them “Sailing the Seas Depends on the Helmsman”, which compares the chairman’s thinking to “the sun that never sets”. The maverick politician Bo Xilai used such songs in his campaign to challenge the central leadership earlier this decade but he is now in prison, serving a life sentence for corruption.

The singers, who describe themselves as “the socialist band fallen from heaven”, wear the sort of scarves worn by Young Pioneers in the Cultural Revolution that Mao launched, 50 years ago this month, to shake up China and assert his leadership.

Some other songs praised the current leader, Xi Jinping, but the event was determinedly retro, demonstrating nostalgia for the era before China embarked on its race for economic growth and before society modernised. In a country where the leaders shape history to their purpose, this was a distinct political statement, and that the performance was permitted at all raised eyebrows among China-watchers. There was even more puzzlement when the organisation that put its name to the show turned out not to exist. Speculation spread that the whole thing had been staged by opponents of the current leadership in an attempt to embarrass it.

While Mao remains the biggest figure in the narrative of the People’s Republic, his three decades in power were marked by killings on a huge scale and the repeated use of terror, ending with the ten-year disaster of the Cultural Revolution. His heritage poses a problem in a country with a vastly changed society that has little affinity with the rampaging Red Guards. The Communist Party-run state needs the Great Helmsman at the centre of its history and its conquest of power. But the kind of nostalgia peddled by 56 Flowers has little relevance in China today, where materialism is more important than Maoist Marxism and where the pressing issues are how to deal with a mountain of debt and reduce excess industrial capacity.

In an unprecedented move in mid-May, the party newspaper People’s Daily ran a severe condemnation of the Cultural Revolution as a grave mistake. However, Mao’s body still lies embalmed in Tiananmen Square, his head is on the banknotes and the official verdict is that he was “70 per cent good, 30 per cent bad”.

Mao launched the movement that convulsed his country after a politburo meeting on 16 May 1966, which identified “representatives of the bourgeoisie who have sneaked into the party, the government, the army and various spheres of culture” but were merely “a bunch of counter-revolutionary revisionists”, aiming to instal “a dictatorship of the bourgeoisie”.

The man who had led the Chinese communists to power in 1949 had been feeling disgruntled. He had been marginalised by his lieutenants Liu Shaoqi and Deng Xiaoping following the collapse of his attempt to industrialise the country in the Great Leap Forward at the end of the 1950s and the ensuing famine, which some estimate to have killed more than 40 million people. Mao was nearly 73 but he was not yet ready to be kicked upstairs into a ceremonial post.

Rousing himself for a final power play, Mao launched the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution to assert himself, to destroy the Communist Party’s “bourgeois” bureaucracy and to give China a shake-up as he led the nation’s young people on a crusade to “destroy the old”. Once more, he ruthlessly turned Chinese against Chinese to consolidate his power and to pursue a supposedly revolutionary adventure.

The effects were, as with earlier initiatives, catastrophic – politically, economically and socially – above all, for the many millions who suffered death, injury, torture and deprivations. The party, the army, schools, universities and practically all other institutions were caught up in the maelstrom.

The wrecking of the regime’s control mechanisms cleared the way to the economic reform that was officially approved by Deng after Mao’s death in 1976, as Frank Dikötter shows in his magisterial new book, The Cultural Revolution: a People’s History, 1962-76. But loosening control is the last thing that Xi Jinping has in mind. Since taking power in November 2012, he has pursued a crackdown on dissent and is centralising authority in a way not seen since Mao. At the same time, and in the lead-up to a crucial party congress at the end of 2017, he is trying to use his campaign against corruption to root out opponents and change the way that China works.

Some commentators have described it as a new Cultural Revolution, even though the attempt to impose draconian control from the centre under Xi hardly chimes with the Red Guards’ invocation to “storm the fortress” and destroy the centres of authority. Still, there are echoes of 50 years ago. In a speech published this month, the president denounced “careerists and conspirators” who were undermining party governance.

“We . . . must make a resolute response to eliminate the problem and deter further violations,” Xi added, in a tone that Chairman Mao might have used. The context changes but China’s leaders have always been adept at finding adversaries to be used to advance their own ends – though what happened under Mao should stand as a warning of where witch-hunting can lead.

Jonathan Fenby is the author of “Will China Dominate the 21st Century?” and “The Penguin History of Modern China”

This article first appeared in the 26 May 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Brexit odd squad