We still don't know what Labour's alternative is

The party's policy rethink is hamstrung by a lack of detail.

Editor's note: This is a response to John Denham's blog, "There is no need for Miliband to choose between radicalism and pragmatism", itself a response to Neil's essay in the current issue of the New Statesman, "What is Milibandism?"

Dear John

I’m pleased (and flattered) that you took the time to respond to my article.

You write that

The emerging consensus among those Ed has promoted is that there is no foreseeable point where the public spending taps are turned back on. The cost of an ageing population, the need to invest, and the impossibility of increasing taxes for the squeezed middle will see to that.

This is good to hear, and your analysis is obviously right. As Liam Byrne famously pointed out, “there’s no money left”.

And yet, in Ed’s speech to the Scottish Labour Party in March he said: "this Tory-led government is making it worse…Higher VAT… Cuts to tax credits…The freezing of child benefit”, and promised that the next Labour government would introduce “a proper cap on rail fares".  Now those are either multibillion spending commitments, or they are meaningless.  Either is bad.

It’s the same with other shadow ministers. John Woodcock has proposed an extra £3bn in transport spending.  Ed Balls has complained that "The benefits cap will lead to more homelessness, the way it is designed", and that "what they are doing on disability living allowance is a big mistake." And yet we don’t really know what Labour’s alternative would be. 

You write that my "belief that Labour's spending instincts are bound to spill out misreads the way Labour's debate is going." I hope you are right.  But is Labour on really track to convince the voters that it will control spending?

You write that Ed is:

Confident that the economy can be reshaped by an active state enabling successful private business; an ambition that goes beyond the odd token grant and investment that passes for Osborne's "industrial strategy. 

You even promise "the construction of a different economy."

Wow. This is Big Stuff.  But how, how, how? 

In what ways would your "industrial strategy" be different from "handing out the odd token grant," which is what government of all hues have done for decades?  Indeed, you praise Peter Mandelson’s time at BIS, which involved doing more or less exactly that.  You write that, "The cost of tax credits rose in an economy producing too many poorly-paid jobs."  Whereas under Labour there will be millions more high paid jobs because…? Answers on a postcard, please.

You write that

O’Brien is right to say there are many issues that remain challenging for Labour, not least welfare. But it’s telling that he sees this as a tactical issue for the Tories.

Actually I see much deeper welfare reform as a good thing in itself, a way to reduce unemployment, and also a way of liberating funds to spend on tackling the root causes of poverty and economic underperformance.  But, yes, it is also an unsolved political problem for Labour.

You talk about "Shifting investment from tax credits to affordable child care, or landlords' rents to bricks and mortar. Rewarding those who work and contribute over those who didn’t."

These are really interesting germs of policy ideas, but so far they’re undeveloped.

Tax credits were supposed to be one of Labour main tools to reduce unemployment.  But in the end the overwhelming majority of tax credit spending has gone on child tax credit (CTC) which is really a bigger, means-tested version of child benefit, and does nothing to encourage work. Redirecting this spending to things like childcare which support work would be a good idea (shifting it to Working Tax Credits or cutting employers national insurance – the so-called ‘jobs tax’ - would be other possibilities). But the current child poverty measure (which Labour legislated for) would score a shift from CTC to childcare spending as a massive rise in child poverty (because CTC is income, and childcare a free service). Labour would have to either take the political hit from this, or come up with a better measure.

Shifting spending from housing benefit is obviously much harder.  You need to move nearly 700 people off housing benefit altogether to finance the building of one council house.  Housing benefit claimants are only a quarter of private renters, so squeezing spend won’t bring down prices that much, and a little bit more spent on social housing certainly won’t be enough to hold down soaring rents. Given that the majority of new homes are privately built, Labour needs much greater clarity on how it would get the private sector to build much, much more.  There is a huge opportunity for Labour here, as Labour voters are less likely to be home owners.  But I think that opportunity is yet to be tapped.

A more contributory welfare system in which what you get out reflects what you paid in is a great idea.  But how will we get people to run up the pots of savings that this requires?  We could top slice other types of welfare spending, but one way or another the money needs to come from somewhere. So far I don’t think I have heard where?

A big but neglected part of the welfare debate is about how job centres work and what we ask from claimants in return for their benefits ("conditionality" in the jargon).  We know from other countries that asking more from claimants can reduce unemployment.  There is more that can be done to identify the needs of each claimant, and tailor help and conditions like work requirements accordingly. 

With this in mind I thought that the section on welfare in The Shape of Things to Come was a bit dissapointing, particularly the rejection of the idea that stronger and better conditionality has a big part to play.  Labour should be thinking hard about this not because welfare is a political problem for the party, but because conditionality is a big part of the answer to unemployment.  It’s worth recalling that at the end of Labour’s time in government there were 4.6 million people on the main out-of-work benefits – almost exactly the same number as when the time series for worklessness started in 1999. Now the lack of money makes radical thinking on this front even more vital.

A year ago, a former Blair-era minister told me that he was worried that Labour would win the election, but then wouldn’t have a clue what to do differently if elected. 

A year on, Labour’s policy rethink so far consists of some interesting ideas, a lot of soaring rhetoric, but very little detail yet. The general election is probably still a little way off.  But isn’t it amazing how the time flies by.  Is Labour going to be ready in time?

Under Ed Miliband, Labour has promised "the construction of a different economy". Photograph: Getty Images.

Neil O'Brien is the director of Policy Exchange.

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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

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