Labour must be bolder as the storm brews

Despite Miliband's fine words, the party still clings to a busted economic model.

"There is a storm coming." It’s the last line from the first Terminator film.  It’s a quote that haunts me.  Its been gathering for a while now – not just in the economy but physically in the environment and emotionally in all of us. A palpable fear of a world going far beyond our control, in which we become lonelier, more isolated, anxious and insecure. We have lost the shoreline and there is, it seems, no captain to steer us home or lighthouse to warn us away from danger.  

Of course the presence of a broken economy looms over everything. It’s not just that times are hard but the best we are offered is a return to business as usual – the booms and the busts, the inequality and the endless slog of the earn-to-spend treadmill – but our politicians cant even deliver on that miserable promise. There is pain but no gain as child poverty rises, health inequalities widen and the budget deficit grows. Poverty is returning to Europe – not my words but those of Jan Zijderveld, Unilever's European boss, on why the company is using marketing strategies designed for developing countries to sell their goods in Europe. A tunnel with no light at the end is a disorientating place to be.

Before you think I’m going to say something cheery we have to face an even bigger threat: that of ecocide. We all know something bad is happening to the planet. The scientific evidence stacks up but we can all see, hear, smell and touch. The weather isn’t right just as the sight of bees in the winter is alarmingly wrong. An economy out of control triggers a planet out of control. The ice melts at record rates. Serious water shortages await. Food prices rise as crops fail because temperatures soar. Energy and mineral prices go through the roof as both become scarcer. The poor are hit first and hardest.  But we all will be hit eventually. No gates can be built high enough to thwart what’s coming.

Is this just more leftie doom and gloom? Maybe. You decide. But bad news usually tends to be even worse news for the left. Lenin is long rumored to have said "the worse it gets the better it gets", in the belief that from misery will come revolution. History doesn’t bear this out. The left thrives on hope and optimism. Caution and conservatism are more likely to spring from hard times.  This is especially the case if the left fails to meet the challenges that confront us.

Fredric Jameson tells us what we already know to be true "that it is easier to imagine the end of the world than to imagine the end of capitalism". Which, as the new political season is about to kick off, brings us to our own backyard and the gaping chasm between what is and what needs to be in British politics.

There is a double arm lock in place. The crash revealed not just the weakness of the financial system but the incredible hold of neo-liberalism on our national psyche. It has become a truly "hegemonic project" in the words of Stuart Hall, recently interviewed in the New Statesman. To suffer such a potentially fatal blow as the biggest crash ever, but get up and carry on, reminds us of the Terminator films from which this article began. It is a system held firmly in place for many reasons but one is the British electoral system of first past-the-post – which purposefully denies the space for viable alternatives to grow as all the focus remains on a few swing voters in a few swing seats. To secure office means nothing must change.  Surely something has to give between the epochal change taking shape all around us and business as usual at Westminster. But when and how?

Here we turn to Ed Miliband, Labour’s underestimated but still under-performing leader. His instincts are to be bold and radical. But his actions are too timid and cautious. Understandably, he feels hemmed in by his shadow cabinet and the PLP,  too many of whom want just want one more heave - but without any heave. He has been proved right in his attack on "predatory" capitalism but has so far failed to either develop the concept or build the alliances and forces to make it happen.  Labour, in effect, still clings to the same-busted economic model of trickle down from the City. And on public service reform, from welfare to the NHS, Labour paved the way for the Tories to do the same, only worse.  Unless and until Labour breaks from its past, no one will believe it will be any different in the future.

It is still early but look across the channel to France and François Hollande.  Yes, the left can find itself in office when right-wing governments contrive to lose but unless you go through the long hard process of renewing your political ideas and organisation then you never find yourself in a position of real power.  As things stand, coming a close second to the fear of losing the next election is the fear of actually winning it. What would the left do about an economy and an environment that are out of control?  To rebuild Britain we must rebuild not just Labour but a much wider and deeper political alliance for change. That is not just Miliband's job but that of everyone who wants a good society.   

Gramsci advised us to live without illusions, without becoming disillusioned. In these grim times, we must look for the cracks in the system and find inspiration, hope and a toe hold for a better society. From Transition Towns to Community Links, from Citizens UK to 38 Degrees, from Greenpeace campaigners to UK Uncut, from the soon-to-be-launched pressure group  Own It to UK Feminista, from Danny Boyle’s soft progressive sentiment to Joseph Stiglitz's hard new economy by way of Jon Cruddas running the Labour policy review and even, yes, the Liberal Democrats calling for a tax on wealth – a better way can and must be found.

Neal Lawson's column will appear every Thursday on The Staggers.

"The presence of a broken economy looms over everything". Photograph: Getty Images.

Neal Lawson is chair of the pressure group Compass and author of the book All Consuming.

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Is there such a thing as responsible betting?

Punters are encouraged to bet responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly.

I try not to watch the commercials between matches, or the studio discussions, or anything really, before or after, except for the match itself. And yet there is one person I never manage to escape properly – Ray Winstone. His cracked face, his mesmerising voice, his endlessly repeated spiel follow me across the room as I escape for the lav, the kitchen, the drinks cupboard.

I’m not sure which betting company he is shouting about, there are just so many of them, offering incredible odds and supposedly free bets. In the past six years, since the laws changed, TV betting adverts have increased by 600 per cent, all offering amazingly simple ways to lose money with just one tap on a smartphone.

The one I hate is the ad for BetVictor. The man who has been fronting it, appearing at windows or on roofs, who I assume is Victor, is just so slimy and horrible.

Betting firms are the ultimate football parasites, second in wealth only to kit manufacturers. They have perfected the capitalist’s art of using OPM (Other People’s Money). They’re not directly involved in football – say, in training or managing – yet they make millions off the back of its popularity. Many of the firms are based offshore in Gibraltar.

Football betting is not new. In the Fifties, my job every week at five o’clock was to sit beside my father’s bed, where he lay paralysed with MS, and write down the football results as they were read out on Sports Report. I had not to breathe, make silly remarks or guess the score. By the inflection in the announcer’s voice you could tell if it was an away win.

Earlier in the week I had filled in his Treble Chance on the Littlewoods pools. The “treble” part was because you had three chances: three points if the game you picked was a score draw, two for a goalless draw and one point for a home or away win. You chose eight games and had to reach 24 points, or as near as possible, then you were in the money.

“Not a damn sausage,” my father would say every week, once I’d marked and handed him back his predictions. He never did win a sausage.

Football pools began in the 1920s, the main ones being Littlewoods and Vernons, both based in Liverpool. They gave employment to thousands of bright young women who checked the results and sang in company choirs in their spare time. Each firm spent millions on advertising. In 1935, Littlewoods flew an aeroplane over London with a banner saying: Littlewoods Above All!

Postwar, they blossomed again, taking in £50m a year. The nation stopped at five on a Saturday to hear the scores, whether they were interested in football or not, hoping to get rich. BBC Sports Report began in 1948 with John Webster reading the results. James Alexander Gordon took over in 1974 – a voice soon familiar throughout the land.

These past few decades, football pools have been left behind, old-fashioned, low-tech, replaced by online betting using smartphones. The betting industry has totally rebooted itself. You can bet while the match is still on, trying to predict who will get the next goal, the next corner, the next throw-in. I made the last one up, but in theory you can bet instantly, on anything, at any time.

The soft sell is interesting. With the old football pools, we knew it was a remote flutter, hoping to make some money. Today the ads imply that betting on football somehow enhances the experience, adds to the enjoyment, involves you in the game itself, hence they show lads all together, drinking and laughing and putting on bets.

At the same time, punters are encouraged to do it responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly. Responsibly and respect are now two of the most meaningless words in the football language. People have been gambling, in some form, since the beginning, watching two raindrops drip down inside the cave, lying around in Roman bathhouses playing games. All they’ve done is to change the technology. You have to respect that.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war