Miliband doesn’t want to sack Balls – he just wants to steal the Treasury’s power

The Labour leader's plans for government can factor in the prospect of having Balls as his chancellor, but in a shrunken empire.

For three stagnant years, Labour failed to convince people that the country’s economic troubles were George Osborne’s fault. Now, Ed Miliband and Ed Balls want to persuade voters that the Chancellor has cooked up the wrong sort of recovery. The strength of this argument is that optimistic headlines belie household experiences of on­going hardship. The weakness is that Labour can’t prove that things would have been any better if it had been in charge. Opinion polls suggest that many think they would have been worse.

There is also a sound argument that the growth in Britain’s economy is uneven and unsustainable. The coalition promised a nationwide, export-driven manufacturing renaissance. Instead, we have a sugar rush of cheap credit, house-price inflation and consumer spending in the south-east. Again, that doesn’t help the opposition if it can’t be proved that Ed Balls would have presided over a higher-spec recovery.

Labour’s top team affects confidence that the coalition will be punished by the majority of people who will still feel worse off in 2015 than they did in 2010. But nerves are fraying. Privately, senior shadow cabinet ministers admit that the economy could hit a “sweet spot” for Osborne in time for the general election. The Tories don’t need voters to feel jubilant about their personal circumstances as long as they sense that things are moving in the right direction and think that it still feels a bit dicey to gamble on regime change.

Miliband is running out of time to persuade people that he knows how to secure a brighter tomorrow. The urgency breeds resentment in the leader’s office of time wasted by the shadow chancellor touting his “five-point plan for jobs and growth” – the abandoned recipe for a brighter yesterday.

That isn’t the only source of frustration with Ed Balls. He is resented by the left of the party for failing to hold the line against austerity. Activists smell treason in every move to reassure less partisan voters that an incoming Labour government wouldn’t go on a spending spree. Balls has accepted a public-sector pay freeze and a cap on social security spending. He has launched a “zero-based” spending review with an instruction to shadow ministers to identify cuts in their prospective departments. He has offered to have his plans vetted by the Office for Budget Responsibility. He has pledged to run a Budget surplus by 2020.

Balls gets little credit for those vows of frugality. The Tories are good at drowning out actual Labour policy with attacks on what they want the policy to be. And the opposition sounds its media horn louder when steering to the left: restoring the 50p tax rate or controlling energy prices. It also doesn’t help that Balls lacks friends in the corner of the party that was calling for more fiscal rigour back in 2010. This is the tribe that fashions itself as “Labour modernisers” since “Blairite” has become a term of abuse.

They want Labour to say more about failures of the state as the counterpart to Miliband’s attacks on failed markets. In that context, Balls is seen as a repository of risk-averse Treasury orthodoxy; an obstacle to public-sector reform. That perception fuels suspicion of the zero-based spending review. In theory, it is pro-reform, because it invites shadow ministers to consider innovative ways to deliver services without spending more money. Yet it gives Balls a licence to meddle in every nook of Labour’s agenda. Viewed from the leader’s office, this looks like empire-building. Enough Labour people see Balls as an encumbrance to sustain a constant level of chatter about his prospects of being sacked. It is a theme loved by Tories who like to imagine his relationship with the Labour leader as a B-list sequel to the blockbuster Blair-Brown schism.

It is no secret that Balls was not Miliband’s first choice. The appointment was made in January 2011, when the Labour leader’s authority was at a low ebb. Since then, he has shored up his position, managing rival factions, co-opting Balls’s old allies where necessary. Last October’s shadow cabinet promotions of Michael Dugher to a roving Cabinet Office brief and Vernon Coaker to the Defence portfolio are widely interpreted this way. The need to signal beyond doubt which of the Eds is in charge has been a routine preoccupation in the leader’s office.

No one who has closely observed the way Miliband operates doubts his capacity to be ruthless. Shadow cabinet ministers speculate that he would get rid of Balls without hesitation if he believed it was a condition of getting over the threshold of No 10. For the time being, the calculation must be that sacrificing the party’s most experienced political economist would signal panic and allow the Tories to boast that Labour’s capitulation to the Osborne plan was complete. Even shadow ministers who don’t much like Balls say his contributions are usually the most insightful in shadow cabinet meetings.

That doesn’t mean the Labour leader trusts his shadow chancellor to run the party’s economic policy. The case that Miliband wants to make flows from his conviction that insecurity and uneven reward are hard-wired into British capitalism. He wants to “rewrite the rules” – an ambition that ranges far beyond fiscal management to cover an interventionist industrial policy, corporate governance reform and devolution of power to local level. A notable feature of that agenda is how thoroughly it would dilute the dominance of the Treasury. In other words, Miliband’s plans for government can factor in the prospect of having Balls as his chancellor, but in a shrunken empire.

It has taken three years for Miliband to win the right to decide what Labour’s economic offer should be. It has taken skilful, subtle manoeuvring. Now control of the message is his. The challenge is getting anyone beyond the party to listen.
 

Ed Miliband and Ed Balls at the Labour conference in Brighton last year. 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 29 January 2014 issue of the New Statesman, The seven per cent problem

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Meet the hot, funny, carefree Cool Mums – the maternal version of the Cool Girl

As new film Bad Moms reveals, what the cool girl is to the diet-obsessed prom queen, the cool mum is to the PTA harpy.

I suppose we should all be thankful. Time was when “mum’s night off” came in the form of a KFC value bucket. Now, with the advent of films such as Bad Moms – “from the gratefully married writers of The Hangover” – it looks as though mums are finally getting permission to cut loose and party hard.

This revelation could not come a moment too soon. Fellow mums, you know all those stupid rules we’ve been following? The ones where we think “god, I must do this, or it will ruin my precious child’s life”? Turns out we can say “sod it” and get pissed instead. Jon Lucas and Scott Moore said so.

I saw the trailer for Bad Moms in the cinema with my sons, waiting for Ghostbusters to start. Much as I appreciate a female-led comedy, particularly one that suggests there is virtue in shirking one’s maternal responsibilities, I have to say there was something about it that instantly made me uneasy. It seems the media is still set on making the Mommy Wars happen, pitching what one male reviewer describes as “the condescending harpies that run the PTA” against the nice, sexy mummies who just want to have fun (while also happening to look like Mila Kunis). It’s a set up we’ve seen before and will no doubt see again, and while I’m happy some attention is being paid to the pressures modern mothers are under, I sense that another is being created: the pressure to be a cool mum.

When I say “cool mum” I’m thinking of a maternal version of the cool girl, so brilliantly described in Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl:

“Being the Cool Girl means I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because Cool Girls are above all hot.”

The cool girl isn’t like all the others. She isn’t weighed down by the pressures of femininity. She isn’t bothered about the rules because she knows how stupid they are (or at least, how stupid men think they are). She does what she likes, or at least gives the impression of doing so. No one has to feel guilty around the cool girl. She puts all other women, those uptight little princesses, to shame.

What the cool girl is to the diet-obsessed prom queen, the cool mum is to the PTA harpy. The cool mum doesn’t bore everyone by banging on about organic food, sleeping habits or potty training. Neither hyper-controlling nor obsessively off-grid, she’s managed to combine reproducing with remaining a well-balanced person, with interests extending far beyond CBeebies and vaccination pros and cons. She laughs in the face of those anxious mummies ferrying their kids to and from a multitude of different clubs, in between making  cupcakes for the latest bake sale and sitting on the school board. The cool mum doesn’t give a damn about dirty clothes or additives. After all, isn’t the key to happy children a happy mum? Perfection is for narcissists.

It’s great spending time with the cool mum. She doesn’t make you feel guilty about all the unpaid drudgery about which other mothers complain. She’s not one to indulge in passive aggression, expecting gratitude for all those sacrifices that no one even asked her to make. She’s entertaining and funny. Instead of fretting about getting up in time to do the school run, she’ll stay up all night, drinking you under the table. Unlike the molly-coddled offspring of the helicopter mum or the stressed-out kids of the tiger mother, her children are perfectly content and well behaved, precisely because they’ve learned that the world doesn’t revolve around them. Mummy’s a person, too.

It’s amazing, isn’t it, just how well this works out. Just as the cool girl manages to meet all the standards for patriarchal fuckability without ever getting neurotic about diets, the cool mum raises healthy, happy children without ever appearing to be doing any actual motherwork. Because motherwork, like dieting, is dull. The only reason any woman would bother with either of them is out of some misplaced sense of having to compete with other women. But what women don’t realise – despite the best efforts of men such as the Bad Moms writers to educate us on this score – is that the kind of woman who openly obsesses over her children or her looks isn’t worth emulating. On the contrary, she’s a selfish bitch.

For what could be more selfish than revealing to the world that the performance of femininity doesn’t come for free? That our female bodies are not naturally hairless, odourless, fat-free playgrounds? That the love and devotion we give our children – the very care work that keeps them alive – is not something that just happens regardless of whether or not we’ve had to reimagine our entire selves to meet their needs? No one wants to know about the efforts women make to perform the roles which men have decided come naturally to us. It’s not that we’re not still expected to be perfect partners and mothers. It’s not as though someone else is on hand to pick up the slack if we go on strike. It’s just that we’re also required to pretend that our ideals of physical and maternal perfection are not imposed on us by our position in a social hierarchy. On the contrary, they’re meant to be things we’ve dreamed up amongst ourselves, wilfully, if only because each of us is a hyper-competitive, self-centred mean girl at heart.

Don’t get me wrong. It would be great if the biggest pressures mothers faced really did come from other mothers. Alas, this really isn’t true. Let’s look, for instance, at the situation in the US, where Bad Moms is set. I have to say, if I were living in a place where a woman could be locked up for drinking alcohol while pregnant, where she could be sentenced to decades behind bars for failing to prevent an abusive partner from harming her child, where she could be penalised in a custody case on account of being a working mother – if I were living there, I’d be more than a little paranoid about fucking up, too. It’s all very well to say “give yourself a break, it’s not as though the motherhood police are out to get you”. Actually, you might find that they are, especially if, unlike Kunis’s character in Bad Moms, you happen to be poor and/or a woman of colour.

Even when the stakes are not so high, there is another reason why mothers are stressed that has nothing to do with pressures of our own making. We are not in need of mindfulness, bubble baths nor even booze (although the latter would be gratefully received). We are stressed because we are raising children in a culture which strictly compartmentalises work, home and leisure. When one “infects” the other – when we miss work due to a child’s illness, or have to absent ourselves to express breastmilk at social gatherings, or end up bringing a toddler along to work events – this is seen as a failure on our part. We have taken on too much. Work is work and life is life, and the two should never meet.

No one ever says “the separation between these different spheres – indeed, the whole notion of work/life balance – is an arbitrary construct. It shouldn’t be down to mothers to maintain these boundaries on behalf of everyone else.” Throughout human history different cultures have combined work and childcare. Yet ours has decreed that when women do so they are foolishly trying to “have it all”, ignoring the fact that no one is offering mothers any other way of raising children while maintaining some degree of financial autonomy. These different spheres ought to be bleeding into one another.  If we are genuinely interested in destroying hierarchies by making boundaries more fluid, these are the kind of boundaries we should be looking at. The problem lies not with identities – good mother, bad mother, yummy mummy, MILF – but with the way in which we understand and carry out our day-to-day tasks.

But work is boring. Far easier to think that nice mothers are held back, not by actual exploitation, but by meanie alpha mummies making up arbitrary, pointless rules. And yes, I’d love to be a bad mummy, one who stands up and says no to all that. Wouldn’t we all? I’d be all for smashing the matriarchy, if that were the actual problem here, but it’s not.

It’s not that mummies aren’t allowing each other to get down and party. God knows, we need it. It’s just that it’s a lot less fun when you know the world will still be counting on you to clear up afterwards.  

Glosswitch is a feminist mother of three who works in publishing.