It's not about Englishness, it's about the meaning of Ed

The Labour leader wants to challenge preconceptions about what a Prime Minister is supposed to look and sound like.

Ed Miliband’s speech yesterday on English identity and the Union attracted a good deal of attention and commentary. (Some of it is reworked in an op-ed for today’s Telegraph.) Inevitably, it has divided opinion – the spectrum ranges from those who think it was a superficial intervention on an important subject to those who think it was an important intervention on a superficial subject. In the middle will be quite a few who are cautiously intrigued and made curious to hear more, which is enough of a win for Miliband. No-one is going to agree on the precise meaning of Englishness and how it interacts with Britishness and no politician is going to satisfactorily resolve the issues in one speech.

The theme is to be developed over the coming weeks and months and woven into a discussion of wider and more pertinent policy themes. A big speech on immigration – an obvious question raised by the discussion of national identity and tricky terrain for Labour – is, I learn, coming up soon. The intention is to engage with public anxiety on the subject, building on some of the points in the Englishness/Britishness debate, but without reaching for the obvious bemoaning of un-policed borders coupled with blood-curdling pledges to crack down that have become the political default setting whenever the topic is broached.

Meanwhile, I suspect Team Ed will just be glad that so many people are chattering about a topic their man placed on the agenda. Starting the conversation instead of reacting to events is one of the trickier aspects of opposition. One passage of the speech that leapt out at me, however, was not his discussion of what it means to be English or what it means to be part of the United Kingdom, but what it means to be Ed Miliband:

This is who I am. The son of a Jewish refugee and Marxist academic. A Leeds supporter, from North London. A baseball fan. Somebody who looks a bit like Wallace from Wallace and Gromit. If spin doctors could design a politician, I suspect he wouldn’t look like me.

This is not just a casual joke to warm up the audience. The self-deprecation comes naturally to Miliband but that doesn’t mean it isn’t also very carefully considered. Miliband’s strategists long ago came to the conclusion that he will struggle to compete with David Cameron in a Presidential-style beauty contest election. Focus groups of voters have reported difficulty seeing in the Labour leader the kind of qualities that, according to conventional wisdom, are exuded by a man striding purposefully towards Downing Street. Miliband does not, so the thinking goes, resemble the Prime Minister from central casting and attempts to make him act, sound and perform like one fall flat. “He is at his worst when trying to do a Blair or a Cameron,” concedes one aide.

So the plan is to challenge perceptions of what constitutes the obvious image of a Prime Minister – to own and subvert the jibe that Miliband looks a bit like Wallace until it becomes a kind of advantage. The thought the Labour leader’s team want to trigger in voters’ minds is something along the lines of: “Yes, he doesn’t necessary conform to conventional expectations of a PM, but these are unconventional times and, besides, we have a smooth performer in Cameron - slick, confident, classic leadership material according to the rule book - and he tuned out to have no substance, out of touch ..” etc. (Team Ed are very keen on projecting the idea of “ripping up the rules” of conventional politics.)

The strategy is not without risk. Embracing the idea that the Labour leader is a bit of a geek might not do him any favours. The message, as one friend of Miliband jokes affectionately, has to be more dynamic than “Ed: the guy who will help Britain with its homework.”

But the current thinking around the leader is that he might as well promote what he is instead of trying to be something he isn’t. In an age of ferocious cynicism about politics, authenticity is the most precious commodity a candidate can have. There is, of course, a tricky contradiction involved in the whole business of spinning authenticity – a paradox in itself. There are painful memories in the Labour camp of trying something similar with Gordon Brown. “Not Flash, Just Gordon” – was the slogan for a while. It worked, up to a point. The comparison is flimsy, though. The two men have vastly different personalities and campaign in vastly different circumstances. Brown was a deeply unpopular incumbent; Miliband a largely unknown challenger.

Expect more of those self-deprecating little jokes, asides and riffs about the cliches of conventional politics and what a PM is supposed to look and sound like. They are part of a very deliberate strategy to persuade people a PM can actually look and sound like Edward Miliband.

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

Photo: Getty
Show Hide image

Who's winning the European referendum? The Vicar of Dibley gives us a clue

These polls seem meaningless, but they reveal things more conventional ones miss.

At the weekend, YouGov released some polling on 30 fictional characters and their supposed views on Brexit.  If you calculate a net pro-Remain score (per cent thinking that person would back Remain minus the per cent thinking they’d vote for Leave), you have a list that is topped by Geraldine Granger, the Vicar of Dibley (+21), and ends with Jim Royle (-38).

It’s easy to mock this sort of thing, and plenty did: “pointless”, “polling jumping the shark”, and so on. Some even think pollsters ask daft questions just to generate cheap headlines. What a cynical world we live in.

But the answers to those questions tell you quite a lot, both about the referendum campaign and about voters in general.

For one thing, most of the fictional characters that people saw as voting to Remain are (broadly) nice people, whilst the Outers included a fair few you’d not want to be stuck in a lift with, along with other chancers and wasters. On one side, you have the Vicar of Dibley (+21), Mary Poppins (+13), Miranda (+11), and Dr Who (+9) taking on Hyacinth Bucket (-13), Tracy Barlow (-15), Del Boy (-28), and Basil Fawlty (-36) on the other. This isn’t really much of a contest.

Obviously, some of these are subjective judgements. Personally, I’d not want to be stuck in a lift with the Vicar of Dibley under any circumstances – but she’s clearly meant to be a broadly sympathetic character.  Ditto – with knobs on – Miranda. And yes, some of the Outer characters are more nuanced. Captain Mainwaring (-31) may be pompous and insecure, but he is a brave man doing his best for his country. But still, it’s hard not to see some sort of division here, between broadly good people (Remain) and some more flawed individuals (Out).

So, on one level, this offers a pretty good insight into how people see the campaigns.  It’s why polling companies ask these sort of left-field questions – like the famous Tin Man and Scarecrow question asked by John Zogby – because they can often get at something that normal questions might miss. Sure, they also generate easy publicity for the polling company – but life’s not binary: some things can generate cheap headlines and still be interesting.

But there are two caveats. First, when you look at the full data tables you find that the numbers saying Don’t Know to each of these questions are really big– as high as 55 per cent for both Tracy Barlow and Arthur Dent. The lowest is for both Basil Fawlty and Del Boy, but that’s still 34 per cent. For 26 out of the 30 characters, the plurality response was Don’t Know. The data don’t really show that the public think Captain Birdseye (-11) is for Out; when half of all respondents said they don’t know, they show that the public doesn’t really have a clue what Captain Birdseye thinks.

Much more importantly, second, when you look at the cross breaks, it becomes clear how much of this is being driven by people’s own partisan views. Take James Bond, for example. Overall, he was seen as slightly pro-Remain (+5). But he’s seen as pro-Brexit (-22) by Brexit voters, and pro-Remain (+30) by Remain voters.

The same split applies to Dr Who, Postman Pat, Sherlock Holmes, Miranda, and so on.

In fact, of the 30 characters YouGov polled about, there were just eleven where respondents from both sides of the debate agreed – and these eleven excluded almost all of the broadly positive characters.

So, here’s the ten characters where both Remain and Leave voters agreed would be for Brexit: Alan Partridge; Jim Royle; Del Boy; Hyacinth Bucket; Pat Butcher; Tracy Barlow; Captain Mainwaring; Catherine Tate’s Nan; Cruella De Vil; and Basil Fawlty.

That’s not a great roll call. And it must be saying something that even Outers think Cruella De Vil, Alan Patridge, and Hyacinth Bucket would be one of theirs.

Mind you, the only pro-Remain character that both sides agree on is Sir Humphrey Appleby. That’s not great either.

For the rest, everyone wants them for their own.

So what about those who say they don’t yet know how they will vote in the referendum? These might be the key swing voters, after all. Maybe they can give a more unbiased response. Turns out their ranking is broadly similar to the overall one – with scores that are somewhere between the views of the Outers and the Inners.

But with this group the figures for don’t knows get even bigger: 54 per cent at a minimum, rising to a massive 77 per cent for Arthur Dent.

And that’s because, lacking a partisan view about the referendum, they are not able to project this view onto fictional characters.  They lack, in the jargon, a heuristic enabling them to answer the question. Which tells you something about how most people answered the questions.

Philip Cowley is Professor of Politics at Queen Mary University of London.