The battle for the centre - and the 2015 election

Last week, we received a large postbag from readers objecting to <a href="http://www.newstatesman.com/2013/09/miliband-isnt-chasing-power-rather-h... Hodges’s magazine column on “centre-ground” politics</a>. Here he

Whoever controls the political centre will win the 2015 general election. Or at least that’s the view from the first-floor flat of 10 Downing Street.

David Cameron’s strategists came away from the recent Conservative party conference in Manchester with the sense of a job well done. Those I spoke to were frustrated that some of their work had been overshadowed by the uproar over the Daily Mail’s attack on Ralph Miliband. They acknowledged that Ed Miliband’s announcement he would freeze energy prices had resonated with the public. Yet they also believed Labour had made a crucial strategic error.

“The idea that Labour is marching off to the left has been embedded,” a Tory strategist told me. “Before [the conference season], our dilemma was whether we painted Ed Miliband as a joke or as someone who was dangerous. We’re now confident we can do both.”

Before the Tory tribe arrived in Manchester, there were debates about whether Labour’s so-called core vote strategy (the belief that the party can win the next general election with no more than 35 per cent of the vote) should be matched by one of its own. There were attractions. It could help neutralise the threat posed by the UK Independence Party and reassure activists unsettled by the gay marriage controversy and by Nick Clegg’s provocative flourishing of a list of Conservative policies he had successfully vetoed.

In the end, the lurch to the right that some had been predicting did not happen. “We’ve got our strategy and we’re sticking to it,” a Downing Street source told me. That strategy is clear. For the first time since Tony Blair won a landslide victory in 1997, the Conservatives believe that the middle ground of politics is theirs for the taking. The challenge for them is how to occupy it.

In the aftermath of Cameron’s conference speech, I asked one his advisers why, if the centre ground was so important to the Prime Minister, he hadn’t just stood up and said: “We are the party of the centre now.” The public reason given was a tactical one. “Our strategy is show, don’t tell. Look at Ed Miliband’s speech. It was all about what a strong and decisive leader he was. Well, if you really are strong and decisive, you don’t need to shout about it.”

There are other reasons why the Tories are edging, rather than marching, towards the political centre. First, they are not entirely sure where the centre is. They know, for example, that cuts to welfare help reinforce their reputation as the “nasty party”. Yet they are equally aware that their policies on welfare are popular in the country.

Similarly, they recognise that a tough stance on immigration is vital for bringing back the Ukip defectors. But they are also aware that if they cannot make inroads into the BAME (black, Asian and minority ethnic) vote, their chances of winning a majority in 2015 rapidly diminish.

That’s why a number of senior Downing Street aides are now keen to stress the importance of the “common ground” rather than the “centre ground”. That means giving guarantees on areas such as NHS funding and then balancing this with tough measures, such as the so-called bedroom tax, which place them firmly on the right.

Another problem is that, after three and a half years of coalition, the Conservative Party is not in a consensual mood. Cameron is stuck between reassuring his party that he will govern as a true blue as soon as the Lib Dem shackles are broken and reassuring the country that a vote for the Conservatives does not mean a vote for a full-on neo-Thatcherite renaissance.

Whatever dilemmas Labour’s abandonment of the political centre pose for the Prime Minister, they’re as nothing compared to the concerns being shared among some of Ed Miliband’s shadow cabinet.

There is relief among Labour’s inner circle that Labour’s position in the polls stabilised in the conference season. However, there is also unease at the way Miliband remains wedded to the so-called 35 per cent strategy. So much so, that over the coming weeks, we can expect to start hearing talk of a “40 per cent strategy”.

This may appear to be dancing on a psephological pinhead. Yet those advocating it say that ignores its significance. “If you’re aiming for 35 per cent of the vote, you can play safe,” I was told. “You take the base, bolt on some Lib Dems, some first-time voters, some nonvoters and you’re basically home and dry. If you set your sights at 40 per cent, then you can’t get there without starting to reach out to soft Tory voters. And that, in turn, means getting into some serious, grown-up politics.”

Whether Miliband wants to engage in that sort of grown-up politics is unclear. There was concern – and not just from the New Labour wing of the party – at the purge of the Blairites in the shadow cabinet reshuffle on 7 October. There was a sense that the Blairites were being airbrushed out of the picture, as if they were now an embarrassment to the party.

There is a consensus among those in the shadow cabinet untouched by Miliband’s long knives that Labour’s perceived shift to the left has reached the limit of its elasticity. There surely must be what has been called a “recalibration” towards the centre and tough policy changes in areas such as welfare and education are going to have to be addressed.

Some NS readers might not like it but David Cameron is eyeing up the political centre. He is growing increasingly confident that a recovering economy, as well as doubts about Ed Miliband’s overall strategy, will enable him to claim it as his own.

 

David Cameron and Ed Miliband fighting for control of the centre ground. Photo: Getty

This article first appeared in the 11 October 2013 issue of the New Statesman, Iran vs Israel

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How Donald Trump is slouching towards the Republican nomination

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb.

In America, you can judge a crowd by its merchandise. Outside the Connecticut Convention Centre in Hartford, frail old men and brawny moms are selling “your Trump 45 football jerseys”, “your hats”, “your campaign buttons”. But the hottest item is a T-shirt bearing the slogan “Hillary sucks . . . but not like Monica!” and, on the back: “Trump that bitch!” Inside, beyond the checkpoint manned by the Transportation Security Administration and the secret service (“Good!” the man next to me says, when he sees the agents), is a family whose three kids, two of them girls, are wearing the Monica shirt.

Other people are content with the shirts they arrived in (“Waterboarding – baptising terrorists with freedom” and “If you don’t BLEED red, white and blue, take your bitch ass home!”). There are 80 chairs penned off for the elderly but everyone else is standing: guys in motorcycle and military gear, their arms folded; aspiring deal-makers, suited, on cellphones; giggling high-school fatsos, dressed fresh from the couch, grabbing M&M’s and Doritos from the movie-theatre-style concession stands. So many baseball hats; deep, bellicose chants of “Build the wall!” and “USA!”. (And, to the same rhythm, “Don-ald J!”)

A grizzled man in camouflage pants and combat boots, whose T-shirt – “Connecticut Militia III%” – confirms him as a member of the “patriot” movement, is talking to a zealous young girl in a short skirt, who came in dancing to “Uptown Girl”.

“Yeah, we were there for Operation American Spring,” he says. “Louis Farrakhan’s rally of hate . . .”

“And you’re a veteran?” she asks. “Thank you so much!”

Three hours will pass. A retired US marine will take the rostrum to growl, “God bless America – hoo-rah!”; “Uptown Girl” will play many more times (much like his speeches, Donald J’s playlist consists of a few items, repeated endlessly), before Trump finally looms in and asks the crowd: “Is this the greatest place on Earth?”

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb. Only a minority within a minority of Americans, it was assumed, could possibly be stupid enough to think a Trump presidency was a good idea. He won New Hampshire and South Carolina with over 30 per cent of the Republican vote, then took almost 46 per cent in Nevada. When he cleaned up on Super Tuesday in March, he was just shy of 50 per cent in Massachusetts; a week later, he took 47 per cent of the votes in Mississippi.

His rivals, who are useless individually, were meant to co-operate with each other and the national party to deny him the nomination. But Trump won four out of the five key states being contested on “Super-Duper Tuesday” on 15 March. Then, as talk turned to persuading and co-opting his delegates behind the scenes, Trump won New York with 60 per cent.

Now, the campaign is trying to present Trump as more “presidential”. According to his new manager, Paul Manafort, this requires him to appear in “more formal settings” – without, of course, diluting “the unique magic of Trump”. But whether or not he can resist denouncing the GOP and the “corrupt” primary system, and alluding to violence if he is baulked at at the convention, the new Trump will be much the same as the old.

Back in Hartford: “The Republicans wanna play cute with us, right? If I don’t make it, you’re gonna have millions of people that don’t vote for a Republican. They’re not gonna vote at all,” says Trump. “Hopefully that’s all, OK? Hopefully that’s all, but they’re very, very angry.”

This anger, which can supposedly be turned on anyone who gets in the way, has mainly been vented, so far, on the protesters who disrupt Trump’s rallies. “We’re not gonna be the dummies that lose all of our jobs now. We’re gonna be the smart ones. Oh, do you have one over there? There’s one of the dummies . . .”

There is a frenzied fluttering of Trump placards, off to his right. “Get ’em out! . . . Don’t hurt ’em – see how nice I am? . . . They really impede freedom of speech and it’s a disgrace. But the good news is, folks, it won’t be long. We’re just not taking it and it won’t be long.”

It is their removal by police, at Trump’s ostentatious behest, that causes the disruption, rather than the scarcely audible protesters. He seems to realise this, suddenly: “We should just let ’em . . . I’ll talk right over them, there’s no problem!” But it’s impossible to leave the protesters where they are, because it would not be safe. His crowd is too vicious.

Exit Trump, after exactly half an hour, inclusive of the many interruptions. His people seem uplifted but, out on the street, they are ambushed by a large counter-demonstration, with a booming drum and warlike banners and standards (“Black Lives Matter”; an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, holding aloft Trump’s severed head). Here is the rest of the world, the real American world: young people, beautiful people, more female than male, every shade of skin colour. “F*** Donald Trump!” they chant.

After a horrified split-second, the Trump crowd, massively more numerous, rallies with “USA!” and – perplexingly, since one of the main themes of the speech it has just heard was the lack of jobs in Connecticut – “Get a job!” The two sides then mingle, unobstructed by police. Slanging matches break out that seem in every instance to humiliate the Trump supporter. “Go to college!” one demands. “Man, I am in college, I’m doin’ lovely!”

There is no violence, only this: some black boys are dancing, with liquid moves, to the sound of the drum. Four young Trump guys counter by stripping to their waists and jouncing around madly, their skin greenish-yellow under the street lights, screaming about the building of the wall. There was no alcohol inside; they’re drunk on whatever it is – the elixir of fascism, the unique magic of Trump. It’s a hyper but not at all happy drunk.

As with every other moment of the Trump campaign so far, it would have been merely some grade of the cringeworthy – the embarrassing, the revolting, the pitiful – were Trump not slouching closer and closer, with each of these moments, to his nomination. 

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism