The Brown revolution begins

Unlike 1997, they were not cheering in the streets, but the arrival of the new prime minister could

Slowly but relentlessly the Brown revolution is coming. It's a funny sort of insurrection, characterised by caution and stealth rather than the flag-waving and dancing in the streets that would usually accompany such momentous events. It has none of the fanfare that greeted that mildest of political insurgencies - the arrival of new Labour in power a decade ago. But there are already signs that the new era could, potentially, be far more radical than anything Tony Blair thought possible.

The commitment to constitutional reform, announced in the speech with which Gordon Brown launched his leadership campaign, looked to some like a smokescreen to hide the lack of hard policy. The subsequent approach to Lord Ashdown to serve in a "cabinet of all the talents" demonstrated that Brown was indeed ready to usher in genuine change in the way we do politics in Britain.

Now those around the new Prime Minister are preparing to take a significant step which would mark a paradigm shift in the political culture.

A Bill of Rights, enshrining the human rights and social responsibilities of each person under law, would go some way to transforming the relationship between the individual and the state. Britons would begin to make the journey from being subjects to becoming citizens. There are those within the Brown camp who believe it could also help clarify the rights established by incorporating the European Convention on Human Rights into British law. Although no one is suggesting sweeping aside the Human Rights Act, despite the hostility shown to it by the right-wing press, it is thought that a domestic Bill of Rights would have a more distinctly British feel.

Brown's determination to reform the way we are governed, from local councils right up to the post of prime minister itself, is deeply felt. The mechanism for bringing about the reforms is already in place. Citizens' juries would discuss the various options for reform, before recommendations were passed to a constitutional convention of experts and campaigners for reform. The proposals put to parliament would remain highly consultative, in what one Brown adviser says would be "the greenest green paper you have ever seen". At each step the emphasis would be on gaining the views of the public, experts, interest groups and MPs.

The resulting Bill of Rights, with Brown's much vaunted "Britishness" written down in black and white, would then be used in schools and citizenship ceremonies to establish a set of commonly held values.

Professor Francesca Klug of the London School of Economics, whom Brown has quoted in his speeches, says the PM must be careful not to use the bill to water down what has already been established. "We already effectively have a Bill of Rights. It's called the Human Rights Act. But it was brought in with the minimum of consultation and no attempt was made to sell it to the British public. If they go further it should be with the engagement with the British people to establish the rights they actually want written down."

The discussion is already well advanced. Klug, for instance, will be presenting a pamphlet - entitled What Is A Bill of Rights For? - at a seminar for the Brownite think tank the Smith Institute at Downing Street in just over a week's time.

Coming round

A further shift in the political landscape is marked by the open discussion over electoral reform, once a no-go area for Labour politicians. After years of resistance, Brown and many of those around him have warmed to the idea, in principle at least, of shaking up the way we vote for those who represent us in parliament. The new PM remains unconvinced by any system that severs the link to the constituency and is deeply sceptical of anything that involves centrally controlled party lists. But he is coming round to the belief that the first-past-the-post system is past its sell-by date.

As the New Statesman reported three weeks ago, those around Brown are looking carefully at the "alternative vote" system in which people place candidates in a constituency in order of preference. Second preferences are transferred as candidates drop out until one person gets more than 50 per cent of the vote. This was the process used to elect Brown's deputy, Harriet Harman, so what's good enough for the Labour Party could turn out to be good enough for the rest of Britain. Harman herself is known to be sympathetic to change as are the Brownite power couple Ed Balls and Yvette Cooper. But there are still those in the inner circle such as the West Bromwich MP, Tom Watson, who have been vocal cheerleaders for the retention of the present system.

Nevertheless, campaigners have sensed that change is in the air. The Electoral Reform Society has launched a publicity campaign welcoming Brown into his new job. Carefully worded, its advertisements make a series of demands that the new PM would find it hard to disagree with. All elections should be genuine contests; voters should be able to rank their choice in order of preference and the political system should better reflect the views and diversity of the electorate. "Gordon Brown has kept his cards very close to his chest on this," says Ken Ritchie, chief executive of the Electoral Reform Society. "This is not an argument he has needed to have until now. But as leader everything is different."

As with the Bill of Rights, nothing will be announced as a done deal. Brown intends to have a lengthy cabinet discussion even before he announces the consultation process. He will be tapping into an appetite for change within the parliamentary Labour Party and even the government itself. One minister approached the NS this week to argue that he now believed the abolition of the first-past-the post system was essential to renewing politics. Even Jack Straw's historical allegiance to first-past-the-post is said to be weakening.

With all parties increasingly concentrating their resources on the small number of marginal seats necessary to win an election, there is the growing feeling that change is essential to ensure that citizens feel their vote really matters. Although some will argue that a switch to the "alternative vote" system will still not produce a parliament that accurately reflects each party's share of the vote, compromise is in the air. John Denham, for instance, the chair of the Home Affairs Select Committee, who has long been an advocate of reform, is said to have been persuaded that the alternative vote system may provide a pragmatic solution.

In his swansong performance to parliament, Blair admitted what his critics had long suspected, that he was not "a House of Commons man". Nor, he could have said, was he much of a cabinet man, nor a true Labour Party man. Brown has already pledged to be all three. But those who have worked with a man hardly known for his collegiate manner remain to be convinced.

Real man emerges

The first stage of the Brown revolution has to begin with the man himself. The process of coronation has been good for him. He visibly relaxed as the day approached. One close friend says there are now signs that the real Gordon Brown is finally emerging: "I'm just happy for him and you can see that he is beginning to enjoy himself. The smile is really his smile now."

But old habits die hard. Brown and his inner circle have developed a near addiction to conspiracy and their paranoia has often been tangible. I had a taste of this when I first took the job as the NS political editor. After my first column, which discussed one of David Blunkett's several misdemeanours, Sky News reported this as a Brownite plot to destabilise one of Tony Blair's closest allies (this magazine is wrongly seen in some circles as sympathetic to the Brown cause). However, when I mentioned this conspiracy theory to two ministerial allies of the chancellor at Labour conference a few days later, they had already convinced themselves they were indeed responsible for the plot against Blunkett. Every political journalist has a similar story to tell.

Many remain to be convinced that a politician who has saved his most intimate political thoughts for a handful of trusted allies and advisers will be prepared to take on board the views of cabinet colleagues, let alone the wider public.

The irony of the present situation, where Brown has wanted to save all announcements for the cabinet and parliament, is that the atmosphere of secrecy has been even more intense. Ahead of the reshuffle, ministers sought out journalists for news. But as one said to me on Monday: "I know they are running a very tight ship and none of us has heard so much as a whisper. But I bet Ed Balls and Douglas Alexander have a pretty good idea of what is going on."

The leadership "election" has demonstrated that Brown has the ability to reinvent himself. "Reformation" would perhaps be a better word than "revolution" considering Brown's political roots and Protestant background, but he needs to demonstrate quickly that the era of conspiratorial sofa politics is over. For that, the real transformation will have to come from inside Brown's head.

This article first appeared in the 02 July 2007 issue of the New Statesman, The Brown revolution begins

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"We repealed, then forgot": the long shadow of Section 28 homophobia

Why are deeply conservative views about the "promotion" of homosexuality still being reiterated to Scottish school pupils? 

Grim stories of LGBTI children being bullied in school are all too common. But one which emerged over the weekend garnered particular attention - because of the echoes of the infamous Section 28, nearly two decades after it was scrapped.

A 16-year-old pupil of a West Lothian school, who does not wish to be named, told Pink News that staff asked him to remove his small rainbow pride badge because, though they had "no problem" with his sexuality, it was not appropriate to "promote it" in school. It's a blast from the past - the rules against "promoting" homosexuality were repealed in 2000 in Scotland, but the long legacy of Section 28 seems hard to shake off. 

The local authority responsible said in a statement that non-school related badges are not permitted on uniforms, and says it is "committed to equal rights for LGBT people". 

The small badge depicted a rainbow-striped heart, which the pupil said he had brought back from the Edinburgh Pride march the previous weekend. He reportedly "no longer feels comfortable going to school", and said homophobia from staff members felt "much more scar[y] than when I encountered the same from other pupils". 

At a time when four Scottish party leaders are gay, and the new Westminster parliament included a record number of LGBTQ MPs, the political world is making progress in promoting equality. But education, it seems, has not kept up. According to research from LGBT rights campaigners Stonewall, 40 per cent of LGBT pupils across the UK reported being taught nothing about LGBT issues at school. Among trans students, 44 per cent said school staff didn’t know what "trans" even means.

The need for teacher training and curriculum reform is at the top of campaigners' agendas. "We're disappointed but not surprised by this example," says Jordan Daly, the co-founder of Time for Inclusive Education [TIE]. His grassroots campaign focuses on making politicians and wider society aware of the reality LGBTI school students in Scotland face. "We're in schools on a monthly basis, so we know this is by no means an isolated incident." 

Studies have repeatedly shown a startling level of self-harm and mental illness reported by LGBTI school students. Trans students are particularly at risk. In 2015, Daly and colleagues began a tour of schools. Shocking stories included one in which a teacher singled out a trans pupils for ridicule in front of the class. More commonly, though, staff told them the same story: we just don't know what we're allowed to say about gay relationships. 

This is the point, according to Daly - retraining, or rather the lack of it. For some of those teachers trained during the 1980s and 1990s, when Section 28 prevented local authorities from "promoting homosexuality", confusion still reigns about what they can and cannot teach - or even mention in front of their pupils. 

The infamous clause was specific in its homophobia: the "acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship" could not be mentioned in schools. But it's been 17 years since the clause was repealed in Scotland - indeed, it was one of the very first acts of the new Scottish Parliament (the rest of the UK followed suit three years later). Why are we still hearing this archaic language? 

"We repealed, we clapped and cheered, and then we just forgot," Daly says. After the bitter campaign in Scotland, in which an alliance of churches led by millionaire businessman Brian Souter poured money into "Keeping the Clause", the government was pleased with its victory, which seemed to establish Holyrood as a progressive political space early on in the life of the parliament. But without updating the curriculum or retraining teaching staff, Daly argues, it left a "massive vacuum" of uncertainty. 

The Stonewall research suggests a similar confusion is likely across the UK. Daly doesn't believe the situation in Scotland is notably worse than in England, and disputes the oft-cited allegation that the issue is somehow worse in Scotland's denominational schools. Homophobia may be "wrapped up in the language of religious belief" in certain schools, he says, but it's "just as much of a problem elsewhere. The TIE campaign doesn't have different strategies for different schools." 

After initial disappointments - their thousands-strong petition to change the curriculum was thrown out by parliament in 2016 - the campaign has won the support of leaders such as Nicola Sturgeon and Kezia Dugdale, and recently, the backing of a majority of MSPs. The Scottish government has set up a working group, and promised a national strategy. 

But for Daly, who himself struggled at a young age with his sexuality and society's failure to accept it, the matter remains an urgent one.  At just 21, he can reel off countless painful stories of young LGBTI students - some of which end in tragedy. One of the saddest elements of the story from St Kentigern's is that the pupil claimed his school was the safest place he had to express his identity, because he was not out at home. Perhaps for a gay pupil in ten years time, that will be a guarantee. 

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