"New generation"? Miliband really meant it, says Mehdi Hasan

Umunna and Reeves are among the "newbies" joining Labour's new shadow cabinet.

At the start of his first conference speech as Labour leader, in September 2010, Ed Miliband proclaimed:

Conference, I stand here today ready to lead: a new generation now leading Labour.

He used the phrase 14 times in that single speech.

A year later, in the form of his first shadow cabinet reshuffle, Miliband has shown us how actions speak louder than words. The Labour leader appointed six new MPs to his shadow cabinet today: Chuka Umunna, Rachel Reeves, Michael Dugher, Stephen Twigg, Margaret Curren and Liz Kendall.

It is a bold (unprecedented?) move -- but one that I believe will pay dividends. Here's what I wrote in my NS column 12 months ago:

Where are the newbies? If Labour wants to construct an appealing shadow cabinet, rather than a cabinet of shadows, the party has to be bold and unorthodox; it has to promote new blood.

Members of the 2010 intake, such as Chuka Umunna, Rachel Reeves and Lisa Nandy -- all young, dynamic, articulate and intelligent -- have kept their heads down. A senior Labour MP says: "Stop mentioning Chuka's name . . . You're going to make him unpopular in the eyes of his peers and wreck his career."

Why? Because "experience", it seems, matters. Candidates are keen to stress their experience, ministerial or otherwise, in the various missives clogging up inboxes across the PLP. But experience is overrated. As Tony Blair proudly says at the outset of his memoir, A Journey, he arrived at No 10 on 1 May 1997 with no ministerial experience. The same is true of David Cameron -- elected to the Commons as an opposition MP in 2001 but Prime Minister by 2010. Barack Obama, meanwhile, spent just 26 months in the Senate before running for the most important job in world politics.

Nor does a lengthy CV automatically translate into good political judgement. As Ed Balls has argued, the "fortysomethings" in the cabinet who were attracted by the prospect of an "early" general election in the autumn of 2007, including himself, Ed Miliband and Douglas Alexander, were proved right in the end, compared to the "greybeards", such as Jack Straw and Geoff Hoon, who wrongly urged caution.

This isn't about ageism (Curren, after all, is 52), or turning a blind eye to the value of experience. It is about the political advantage to Miliband of having a fresh crop of Labour frontbenchers who are untainted by the Blair-Brown wars, don't have to blindly defend the last Labour government, are loyal, energised and enthusiastic, and, crucially, symbolise "change", "newness" and a break with the past. Opposition, remember, is a team activity; it isn't a solo sport.

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.

Getty Images.
Show Hide image

Why relations between Theresa May and Philip Hammond became tense so quickly

The political imperative of controlling immigration is clashing with the economic imperative of maintaining growth. 

There is no relationship in government more important than that between the prime minister and the chancellor. When Theresa May entered No.10, she chose Philip Hammond, a dependable technocrat and long-standing ally who she had known since Oxford University. 

But relations between the pair have proved far tenser than anticipated. On Wednesday, Hammond suggested that students could be excluded from the net migration target. "We are having conversations within government about the most appropriate way to record and address net migration," he told the Treasury select committee. The Chancellor, in common with many others, has long regarded the inclusion of students as an obstacle to growth. 

The following day Hammond was publicly rebuked by No.10. "Our position on who is included in the figures has not changed, and we are categorically not reviewing whether or not students are included," a spokesman said (as I reported in advance, May believes that the public would see this move as "a fix"). 

This is not the only clash in May's first 100 days. Hammond was aggrieved by the Prime Minister's criticisms of loose monetary policy (which forced No.10 to state that it "respects the independence of the Bank of England") and is resisting tougher controls on foreign takeovers. The Chancellor has also struck a more sceptical tone on the UK's economic prospects. "It is clear to me that the British people did not vote on June 23 to become poorer," he declared in his conference speech, a signal that national prosperity must come before control of immigration. 

May and Hammond's relationship was never going to match the remarkable bond between David Cameron and George Osborne. But should relations worsen it risks becoming closer to that beween Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling. Like Hammond, Darling entered the Treasury as a calm technocrat and an ally of the PM. But the extraordinary circumstances of the financial crisis transformed him into a far more assertive figure.

In times of turmoil, there is an inevitable clash between political and economic priorities. As prime minister, Brown resisted talk of cuts for fear of the electoral consequences. But as chancellor, Darling was more concerned with the bottom line (backing a rise in VAT). By analogy, May is focused on the political imperative of controlling immigration, while Hammond is focused on the economic imperative of maintaining growth. If their relationship is to endure far tougher times they will soon need to find a middle way. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.