My apology to the Tories

I was just joking about only liking Ken Clarke.

On Friday night, I appeared on Radio 4's Any Questions, with former the mayor of London Ken Livingstone, Kenneth Clarke MP and Julia Goldsworthy MP. You can listen to it here.

In the middle of a rather lively exchange with Ken Clarke over the Tories' debt delusion, I remarked:

Ken is one of the best chancellors of the Exchequer we've had in many, many years. He's the only Tory I like [boo! hiss!], let's be honest. But, but, he's wrong on this [the deficit].

I'm not sure if the audience hissed and booed because they were angry that I'd said I liked Clarke or because I'd said that, among Tories, I liked only Clarke.

But on reflection, I have an apology to make to the Conservative Party. There are, in fact, lots of Tories whom I admire, appreciate and/or like -- while disagreeing with most of their policies, principles and positions. On the current front bench, as well as Ken Clarke, I have to admit a soft spot for Oliver Letwin, David Willetts, Dominic Grieve and Sayeeda Warsi.

Going back through recent history, the names Michael Heseltine, Chris Patten, Ian Gilmour, Iain MacLeod, Rab Butler and Winston Churchill spring to mind. (Disclaimer: I include Churchill because he led this nation to victory over Nazism; I nonetheless continue to abhor and despise his racist views and his use of chemical weapons against the Iraqis -- 70 years before Saddam Hussein.)

So, which Tories do you like? From a left/liberal perspective? Answers below the line, please . . .

On a side note, Ken Clarke also made a couple of factually inaccurate remarks that I wanted to challenge in this post.

1) On the subject of Lord Cashcroft, Clarke predictably tried to deflect the questions by repeatedly referring to the non-dom Labour donor Lord Paul, even though Paul is not deputy chairman of the Labour Party, is not funding Laboury's marginal seats campaign, and did not give repeated undertakings to his party leadership or the House of Lords that he would become a "permanent resident" of the UK, for tax purposes, upon becoming a peer. On Friday night, I pointed out to Clarke that Lord Paul had not given millions to Labour, as Ashcroft has to the Conservatives. Clarke responded:

No, Lord Paul has given several million [pounds].

Wrong. As the Ministry of Truth blog points out:

For one thing, it's a bit of a reach to call Lord Paul a major Labour donor when the Electoral Commission's records show that he's made only one personal donation to the party (a mere £10,000 in 2001) while his company, Caparo, has donated the princely sum of £14,250 in three donations, one in 2002 and two more in 2008.

Caparo were a little more generous with Gordon Brown during the period when he was raising funds for his campaign for the Labour leadership, but only to the tune of £45,000 in two donations, which is loose change compared to the amount that Ashcroft has funnelled into the Conservative Party since 2003.

2) On the subject of the rules about non-domiciles, I pointed out that the rules were an anachronism and should be abolished. I also highlighted how Britain ploughs a lonely furrow on this issue -- few other countries offer such a tax loophole to their squillionaire class, not even free-market, low-tax America. Clarke, a former chancellor of the Exchequer in this country, responded:

That's not true. That's not true.

Really? I asked the leading tax accountant Richard Murphy whether or not the Americans make a distinction between domicile and residency for tax purposes. His response? "Absolute bollocks." Oh, and here's the BBC website's take:

Few other countries have such a loophole. Most, like the United States, insist that if you live in the country you have to pay taxes on your worldwide earnings.

In general, over the course of the one-hour radio debate, I couldn't help but feel sorry for Clarke. His heart clearly wasn't in it. Had he been leader of the Conservative Party over the past decade -- the great "What if . . .?" question of modern British politics -- we would probably not have had Michael Ashcroft ennobled and made deputy chair of the Conservative Party. Nor for that matter would we have had the Tories' proposed inheritance-tax cut for the country's 3,000 richest estates or the Tories' strange alliance in Europe with the "ultra-nationalist right". Oh, and we might have avoided the Iraq war, too . . .

Mehdi Hasan is a contributing writer for the New Statesman and the co-author of Ed: The Milibands and the Making of a Labour Leader. He was the New Statesman's senior editor (politics) from 2009-12.

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One Day Without Us reveals the spectre of Britain without immigration

Imagine a country without its NHS workers, its artists and even its consumers. That's why immigrants are striking today. 

What’s the best way of making yourself heard in politics? Protesting in the street, or contacting the media? Writing to politicians? A badge?

One option, of course, is to walk out - and give people a chance to recognise what they’d be missing if you weren’t there. In the labour movement, that’s long been an option – a last-case option, but an option nevertheless – when your contribution isn't being recognised.

A strike is a tit-for-tat negotiation and a warning shot. “I’ll work properly when you employ me properly”, it says, but simultaneously: “Here’s what you’d lose if I stopped”. Done right, the worker’s absence can shift the power balance in their favour.

Normally, people strike according to their role, in pursuit of certain conditions – the tube strikes, or last year’s teacher's strike.

Yet there is also a long and rich history of walk-outs whose terms are broader and boundaries hazier. One of the most famous is surely the 1975 Women's Strike, in Iceland, during which 90 per cent of the country's women refused to participate in either paid or unpaid work.

In 2016, the formula was repeated in Poland, where women went on strike to protest against a draconian change being proposed to the country's already-strict abortion laws. (It worked.)

Immigrant strikes, too, have a history. In 2006, for instance, a coalition of Los Angeles Catholic groups, unions and immigration reform groups proposed a boycott in opposition to a bill which, among other things, called for new border security fences to be built between America and Mexico. (Ahem.)

The action grew to become a national event, and on May 1, the “Great American Boycott” took place, with immigrants from Latin America and elsewhere leaving work, skipping school and refusing to buy or sell goods.

Now, with Donald Trump in the White House and Brexit looming, some have decided it’s time for another strike. Enter “One Day Without Us”.

Today, immigrants here in Britain will strike not for pay conditions or holiday allowances, but for basic recognition and respect. Across the country, businesses will close and immigrants will leave work, many of them to take place in alternative actions like rallies or letter-writing campaigns.

The name of the protest pulls no punches. This, it says, is what it would be like if we all went away. (Subtext: “like some of you want”.)

Because – and let’s be honest here – it’d be bad. In hospital this summer, I was treated by migrants. After 24 hours in NHS, I took a count, and found that only about one in five of the staff who had treated me were identifiably English. Around 4.6 per cent of NHS staff nationally are from the EU, including 9 per cent of doctors. Immigrants clean buildings, make our food, and provide a whole host of other vital services.

One Day Without Us, then, could do Britain a huge favour - it provides us with a quick preview function before anyone ups and leaves for good, taking the heart of our health service, or our food supplies, with them.

In recognition of this, some businesses are actively giving their workers the day off. One 36-year-old owner of a support services company, for instance, is giving her staff a paid holiday.

“Not all my colleagues are taking up the offer not to come in”, she explained. “Some, both British and foreign-born, would prefer to work. That’s fine, I wanted to give colleagues the freedom to choose.

 “It will cause some inconvenience and I’ve had to explain to clients why we aren’t offering all our services for one day, but I feel doing this is the only way to show how much this country relies on migrants. I may be a businesswoman, but I’m a human being first, and it hurts my heart to see how foreign-born colleagues are being treated by some people in the current political climate."

The woman, whose staff is 65 per cent foreign born, has asked her company not to be identified. She’s heard her staff being abused for speaking Polish.

Of course, not everyone is able to walk out of work. I write this from Chicago, Illinois, where last week activists participated in an American predecessor to One Day Without Us called “Day Without Immigrants”. Type “Day Without Immigrants" into Google followed by the word "Chicago" and you will find reports of restaurants closing down and citizens marching together through the city.

But search for just "Day Without Immigrants", and the top stories are all about participants being fired.

One Day Without Us, then, encourages any form of engagement. From human chains to sessions during which participants can write to their MP, these events allow immigrants, and supporters, to make themselves known across the country.

Businesses and museums, too, are involved. The Tate, for instance, is offering free tours showing visitors artworks created or influenced by migrants, showing Londoners which of the paintings that they’ve seen a dozen times only exist because of immigration.

Because paintings, like people, come from everywhere, whether or not you remember. Britain is a mongrel country, and so its art and culture are as mongrel as its workforce: a persistent thread through the country’s history.

We risk a lot forgetting this. At its best, assimilation provides a way of integrating without forgetting one’s own unique identity. In a world where immigrants risk threats or violence, however, invisibility can be the best option. For some, it is better not to be recognized as an immigrant than be abused as one.

Those of us who don’t risk threats have a duty to recognise this. I dislike the glibness of “we are all migrants” – maybe, technically, but we’re not all getting slurs shouted at us in the high street, are we? Still, I also don’t like anyone forgetting the fact that their existence, in all probably, is contingent on someone once being given clemency in a place that was their own. The movement of people is woven into the fabric of society.

Of course, it is impossible to say how successful One Day Without Us will be, or how many people’s lives will be directly affected. But I hope that, even as a gesture, it works: that people think of what would be missing from their lives without immigration.

We ignore it at our peril.

You can view all the One Day Without Us events on the organisers’ website, or contribute to a fund to support businesses which are closing for the day here.

Stephanie Boland is digital assistant at the New Statesman. She tweets at @stephanieboland