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A tale of three parties: Laurie Penny sobers up over Labour

The British left is finally knocking back the Alka-Seltzer of humility and stumbling to its feet.

Manchester, 2008. With the financial edifices of Wall Street and the City of London tumbling like dominoes, the Labour Party faithful have gathered at the annual New Statesman conference reception at to soak away their panic. In the grand, high-ceilinged ballroom of the town hall, the old neoliberal certainties are dissipating like chill vapour: the one question on everyone's lips is whether David Miliband, a man who ideologically and personally resembles the banana-grasping voodoo corpse of Blairism left to rot in a pool of inertia for two years, will make a bid for the leadership and reanimate the only model of electoral success the left has known in the past generation.

Meanwhile, a young cabinet minister with an awkward haircut, who is at this point most famous for not being David Miliband, takes the platform to deliver some calming platitudes. Miliband minor's soothing quips about the humiliations of being a younger brother fall on dull ears. Everyone is more intent on drinking hard -- drinking with the cheery desperation that only the British can muster when the streets are on fire and the bar is free.

Fast forward to Brighton, 2009. In the dying days of the last Labour administration, the great and good of the British left have once more gathered at the New Statesman party to drown their sorrows. The recession has hit hard, and nobody now believes that Labour will win the next election; privately, there are many who suspect that it might not deserve to win. The corporate lounge at the soulless seafront hotel gradually fills with bewildered delegates, drifting through the glass doors in ones and twos with the shellshocked expressions of war refugees. The room is too bright, full of static and suspicion; knots of gossip and weary recrimination cluster in the corners of the party. It's like the disco at the end of the world.

The speaker this year is David Miliband, but unfortunately, just as he is ushered onto the stage, somebody brings out the booze. The party faithful charge across the crackling carpet towards the bar like victims of a natural disaster mobbing a Red Cross van, only with substantially less dignity. Nobody listens to Miliband Major, and why would they? The jaws of the credit crunch are snapping shut, and Torygeddon is approaching: not even Blairism can save us now.

Fast forward to this weekend: it's the 2010 Labour Party conference, and we're back in at the same party, in the same lofty setting as 2008 -- the decadent Victorian granite of Manchester Town Hall. And this time, everybody is waiting for Ed Miliband. The shy junior cabinet minister from 2008 has just been anointed leader of the Labour Party in a nail-biting victory over his elder brother, the heir apparent, we have watched his strange rubbery face on the front pages and ubiquitous television screens for 24 hours, and now we are waiting anxiously for Ed like schoolgirls waiting for their prom date to arrive.

When he finally does arrive, flanked by beaming young volunteers who have just been elevated to the status of political flunkies, a spontaneous cheer erupts: a triumphant, rather irreverent cheer, peppered with whoops and wolf-whistles. Ed Miliband is manifestly not the revivified corpse of Blairism -- instead, even with the heady flush of new leadership, he still calls to mind the dorky, swotty kid at the back of the class to whom, for some indefinable reason, nobody has paid much attention. Until now.

Ed takes the stage and tells us, with a rather sad smile and not a hint of swagger, that he wants the Labour Party to change. He wants the Labour Party to show humility over its past mistakes, and to "question old truths". He wants the Labour party to be the "natural home" for the next generation of activists, in part because it is young volunteers who have made his campaign such a success. He wants the party to unite, to abandon factionalism, and most of all -- more than anything -- he wants "change". Unlike the smooth, polished Anglo-American political salesmen of the post-crash era, you suspect that he actually means it.

It is perhaps a testament to how comfortable the Labour Party has become with hierarchy and privilege that the sudden leadership of Ed Miliband -- who is, after all, not an outsider but a son of leafy North London from a distinguished Labour lineage, whose only claim to political insurgency is that he is not the elder brother -- should have so shaken the party faithful. In a truly radical party, this would not have been so stunning a change of direction, but New Labour has not been truly radical for many years.

Expectations were low, and this is enough; it's enough to tremble the foundations of the British left and disturb its stagnant, hierarchial customs, so reliant on anointed heirs and settled successions of power. The gathering at the New Statesman party is suffused with panicked excitement. The delegates are behaving like a group of normally compliant school pupils in an empty classroom, when someone unexpected -- say, the dorky kid at the back of the class -- has just got up from his place and sat down in the teacher's chair. It's a scandalous, it's thrilling, it's surely against the rules!

The overwhelming impression is that anything could happen, and the room bubbles with breezy expectation and just a suggestion of naughtiness. Personal and political seductions are attempted; old friendships and alliances are rekindled. Delegates flirt, make eyes at one another and have meaningful discussions about the living wage and progressive taxation over glasses of orange juice, the boozing less frantic than in previous years.

It's been a long hangover, but this morning, the British left is finally knocking back the Alka-Seltzer of humility and stumbling to its feet. After all, there's work to be done.



Laurie Penny is a contributing editor to the New Statesman. She is the author of five books, most recently Unspeakable Things.

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Calais Jungle: What will happen to child refugees when they leave?

Hundreds of unaccompanied child asylum seekers are being taken to Britain where they face an uncertain future.

Hundreds of unaccompanied child asylum seekers are being taken to Britain, moved from a camp in Calais, northern France, as its closure begins. There were 387 unaccompanied minors in the French refugee camp known as “the Jungle” with links to the UK and they are arriving in England in groups of 70.

Upon arrival, the children are taken to a secure unit for 72 hours, before being reunited with families already living in the UK. They are from a group of more than 1,000 children who have been living in the camp in recent weeks. And now, some of those without links to Britain, but who are regarded as particularly vulnerable, are now also being taken across the English Channel.

The youngsters were granted asylum under the Dublin Regulation. The children’s move to Britain has stalled twice already, over delays in accommodation and establishing proof of age. Migrant children have been subjected to intense media scrutiny upon arrival in recent weeks. Calls for dental checks to verify the true ages of youngsters who looked older were called for, but the UK government branded such a practice as “unethical”.

For a long time, the minors living in the camp faced an uncertain future, but the move to take some children to the UK signals a change of tack by the British and French governments. Britain has been criticised for its lack of humanity, but it now seems that the pleas of these children at least have been heard.

Impact of war

While the youngsters may have escaped serious physical injury, the conflicts in the Middle East will have taken a psychological toll on them. Living in the midst of war, many have witnessed unspeakable horror, losing family members in brutal circumstances. Consequently these youngsters are now incredibly vulnerable to mental illness, with research indicating that more than 80 per cent are likely to develop issues such as post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

It is important to remember a child’s trauma extends far beyond the experiences that resulted in them fleeing their homes. The children going to the UK now endured prolonged exposure to stress-inducing conditions in the Calais camp, and will now need to adjust to their new cultural surroundings.

War directly affects millions of children everyday. Exposure to conflict and acts of terrorism can lead to the development of acute or chronic stress reactions. Research also indicates that the psychological impact of war on children is likely to have long-term effects – they don’t simply “grow out” of their stress-related symptoms. Continued exposure to traumatic events, as these children have experienced, carries a cumulative impact too, that can worsen the severity of post-traumatic symptoms.

Funding challenge

The children going to Britain will need the right sort of trauma-based therapeutic support so they can successfully move forward before chronic conditions take hold. However, mental health services in the UK are desperately underfunded. More than 850,000 children and young people have a diagnosable mental health disorder, and half of all lifetime cases of mental illness begin by the age of 14. But just seven per cent of the total mental health budget is allocated to child and adolescent mental health services, with one in five young people refused treatment because they do not meet the criteria for care.

A recent poll of specialist nurses found 70 per cent thought child and adolescent mental health services in England were inadequate due to historic under-investment. The government is under growing pressure to invest more, and it is hoped that the arrival of these children will see additional money allocated to the services. When, or even if, this will happen, remains unclear.

Post-traumatic growth

While many of these children are likely to suffer form long-lasting psychological symptoms, there is a possibility that some may emerge stronger than they are now, benefiting in some way from the experience resulting in positive post-traumatic growth, or PTG. PTG is possible in children who have been affected by war trauma, particularly if they are young, as they are more open to learning and change. Interestingly, research has revealed that even the negative aspects of PTSD do not “block” growth when children are placed in a supportive environment – found to be the most conducive thing for PTG.

Receiving the proper social support will play an important role in helping these children deal with the psychological effects of war trauma. The complex situation that the young and unaccompanied migrants have faced calls for help that addresses both the trauma and grief, and will secure continuity in their new lives in the UK.

Losing loved ones is just one of many extremely traumatic experiences these children may have faced, and it could prove quite difficult to disentangle the effect of the loss from other stresses and changes. Time does not simply heal the long lasting scars of prolonged stress that they have experienced. However, it is vital that society does not write these children off as ill or broken. With the right support they can lead full lives and make strong contributions in their new homes.

Leanne K Simpson, PhD Candidate, School of Psychology | Institute for the Psychology of Elite Performance, Bangor University

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.