Don’t keep it a secret

The case for national communications on energy use

It seems odd to have to convince government to show off their own policies, but a newly published Green Alliance report argues that a whole raft of consumer-facing energy policies are in danger of sinking if we don’t have a co-ordinated communications plan. With the rising cost of fossil fuels and the recession grinding on, we can’t afford the usual lacklustre take-up of energy efficiency polices with the Green Deal, the smart meter roll-out and the renewable heat incentive. If the government is going to protect the public from our rising bills, it needs to show clearly and explicitly what’s in place to help reduce our costs. That will take a bit more than a departmental press release.

A clear government narrative is especially important when it comes to energy: policies that will save people money in this area face unique difficulties; in the first instance, mounting suspicion around the motives of energy companies selling it to them and, in the second, having to overcome a vocal, if eccentric, opposition to any policy that involves decarbonising. We’ve already seen how odd it can get: one quiet weekend, war was declared on proposed changes to building regulations. A Lib Dem tax on our conservatories? Aux barricades! This bizarre clarion call conveniently ignored the fact that the idea was a key Conservative one, and applicable only to the most enormous conservatories. Also, it wouldn’t have been a tax, as householders would have been eligible for Green Deal funding to help pay for the improvements involved. As Kevin McCloud said, "If that makes it a tax, let’s have more of them." Three wrong out of three wrong, but this kind of puffing and blowing becomes accepted wisdom for the public if the government does not offer its own narrative, stating clearly what it’s trying to do.

This governmental shyness about communicating contrasts with the openness we’re seeing more generally; every bill’s amendment can be data mined, we can watch live footage of traffic cameras, find out every (declared) ministerial meeting, or check on crimes rates in our area. We have all this data, but so little information.

The National Archives website shows what a change in approach this is for government. It contains decades of public information video footage, covering everything from rabies to the 1971 census. Most apt is the rather surreal 1947 approach to energy efficiency as the public are told to "watch their meters". Most use fear to get their point across: the post war austerity need to overcome the general decline in quality of life, more recently, fear of climate change. Perhaps the most famous is Norman Fowler’s apocalyptic (and effective) national television film on AIDS.

But fear isn’t the route our report advocates. Instead, we think the message should be about opportunity. As government once did with films on the right to buy, or what the birth of the NHS meant for the public, a national message, backed up by local promotion, should make clear to us the opportunities on offer. A co-ordinated, simple, but comprehensive message will get trusted organisations on board, and counter the risk of conflicting and contradictory communications.

Green Alliance’s report, Neither sermons nor silence, which we put together with a broad consortium of businesses, argues that successfully communicating energy policies and, more importantly, securing take-up, can’t be managed by the private sector alone. A disjointed approach runs the risk of creating confusion and mistrust. Scottish Power, one of the businesses who fed into our report, and an enthusiastic advocate of the Green Deal, states clearly that a national approach to communications is vital to complement its own efforts and provide a foundation on which they can build customer engagement.

This is about being sensible with public money. These policies have cost a lot to develop; they will cost more in delivery and even more in failure. Without an effective communications strategy, a lot of taxpayers’ money will be wasted. When the Change4Life healthy eating campaign had its budget frozen, it saw a 90 per cent drop in calls to its information line. The government, realising that some communications money is well spent, restored the campaign backed with private sector contributions. We need to learn from such lessons and encourage the government to say, loudly and clearly, what it is doing for us.

Shout it from the rooftops, the 6 O'Clock news, the Today Show - just don't keep it quiet.

Alastair Harper is Head of Politics for Green Alliance UK

Getty
Show Hide image

Nicola Sturgeon and the SNP’s echoes of New Labour

The fall of Blair should be a set text for anyone wishing to know what happens next to the SNP.

If there was one thing the SNP and New Labour had in common, it was the hope. Both offered themselves as a burning torch of optimism to publics that had become tired of the same old gang running things in the same old way. Both promised a fairer, more equal society and fearless embrace of the modern world with an appealing freshness and energy. The voters bought it: both won big, repeatedly.

The thing is, if you’re elected on a mandate to be different, you’d better be different. In many areas, for a long time, New Labour managed to be just that. The smiling PM with the huge majority pushed through bold policies, some of which even worked. Tony Blair’s strategy was so successful that the Conservatives and the Lib Dems reshaped themselves in his likeness.

But, as some say, it’s the hope that kills you. When the inevitable attritional realities of governing start to weigh; when you make, as you will, bad decisions; when the list of enemies grows long; when you’ve simply had your time; you’ll fall like all the rest. Only, when you’ve soared so close to the sun, you have that much further to plummet.

The fall of Blair should be a set text for anyone wishing to know what happens next to the SNP. The debate on 21 May between the Scottish party leaders was, I think, a foretaste of a sure outcome – a public that until recently was politically and emotionally invested in the Nats is growing restive. In time, this will turn to disenchantment, then anger, then revenge at the ballot box. That is the unbreakable cycle of democratic politics.

Some of us have warned since the start that the SNP had over-promised and could only under-deliver. Its raison d’être is independence; everything else is just another brick to build the path. And so its education reform cannot be either brave or unpopular, even if it needs to be so to work, because the SNP cannot afford to alienate teachers or the teaching unions, or parents.

The same goes for the NHS, and doctors and health unions and patients. All the separatists have done – all they could have done, given their nature – is deploy the rhetoric of the radical while body-swerving hard choices and conflict at any cost. And where they have found themselves taking flak, they’ve pointed south to Westminster: “It’s no’ our fault, it’s theirs.”

Yet the voters show signs of wearying. Middle Scotland is either ignored or maligned by the middle-class socialists who drive the nation’s political debate, but it is where elections are won. The SNP has secured the support of enough of these people to win every recent election in style, but somewhere along the way the party seems to have forgotten this was a mandate not for independence, but for good government. Ten years in to SNP rule, each new audit of public services seems to wail like a warning siren.

So, during the debate, it was Nicola Sturgeon, not the Conservative leader, Ruth Davidson, or Labour’s Kezia Dugdale, who found herself in the audience’s cross-hairs.

There were the teachers, who complained about the damp squib that is the Curriculum for Excellence, the SNP’s flagship education policy; who pointed out that a fifth of primary pupils are leaving without basic literacy and numeracy skills; and who warned that lowering the standard of exams in order to push up the pass rate was not a mark of success.

Then there was the nurse who said she had been forced to use food banks (the existence of which has been used repeatedly by the SNP as a stick with which to beat the Conservatives and Westminster). “I can’t manage on the salary I have [which is set by the Scottish government],” Claire Austin told the panel. “You have no idea how demoralising it is to work in the NHS.” She delivered the killer line of the evening: “Do you think your perceived obsession with independence might actually cost you . . . in this election?”

The list of reasonable criticisms of the SNP’s governance is growing. The ideological obsession with free university tuition for Scottish students is increasingly seen as a sop to the better-off. Sturgeon’s demand for a quick second independence referendum, when a worried Middle Scotland was focused on what Brexit might mean for its future, was tone deaf.

The SNP has another problem (one that New Labour, for all its flaws, didn’t face): its doctrine of infallibility. The Nationalists’ constitution explicitly prohibits SNP elected members from criticising the party, its policies or each other. Although total unity is useful when you’re on the climb, it starts to look bonkers when the cracks are showing.

The word “cult” has long dogged the SNP. The party has tried hard to normalise its electoral appeal while keeping the flame of independence burning, but this has been a difficult balancing act. The pro-independence mob is an ugly thing when unleashed (and it has suited the leadership to open the cage door at times). After the debate, Claire Austin found herself at its mercy as the Nats briefed – wrongly – that she was the wife of a Tory councillor. The SNP branch in Stirling said, Tebbitishly, that if she was having to use food banks, “Maybe she needs to tighten her belt a bit more?”

Joanna Cherry, a QC, MP and the SNP’s home affairs spokesperson, was forced to apologise for spreading “Twitter rumours” about Austin. The ravening horde has largely kept its head down since the 2014 independence referendum, but it hasn’t gone away – it is not enough for the SNP’s critics to be debated: they must be destroyed. This isn’t the behaviour of a normal political party.

I have a feeling that when the SNP does fall, it will fall quite quickly. Its belief in its infallibility, and its inability or unwillingness to do self-deprecation or apology, will increasingly exasperate voters. There is nothing to suggest the current public policy failings will be addressed, and many signs that things will get worse.

How then do you arrest your fall? The SNP offered hope and promised it was different, and the voters believed it. The sense of betrayal could make for a very hard landing indeed. 

Chris Deerin is the New Statesman's contributing editor (Scotland). 

This article first appeared in the 25 May 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Why Islamic State targets Britain

0800 7318496