How Miliband can address his image problem

The Labour leader must show, not just tell, people who he is.

Last year, as it became clear that Mitt Romney would be their opponent, the Obama campaign had a choice in how to attack him: as a flip-flopper who kept changing positions or as a protector of the 1%, too rich to understand the plight of ordinary Americans. They settled on the latter strategy for two good reasons. First, it fired up their own base who were supportive of the call by Occupy Wall Street. Second, it would neutralise Romney’s main charge that Obama was not competent enough on the economy, by convincing them that Romney would not act in their interests anyway. While Obama has managed to execute his strategy perfectly, Romney has continually stumbled.

Political framing matters immensely. People don’t study every policy: they develop a gut feeling for politicians and parties and then interpret events and news through that gut feeling. This applies to Britain as much as the United States.

It is exactly two years since Ed Miliband was elected leader of the Labour Party. He has managed to unite different factions of the party, offer a new direction that breaks significantly with New Labour, admitted to mistakes of the past (Iraq, 42-day detention, ID cards, lax financial regulation) and established a double-digit lead over the Tories. This is no mean feat for a party that in 2010 suffered its second worst-defeat since 1918 and oversaw the biggest financial crash in 80 years.

But Miliband has been less willing to consider a key hurdle for re-election: how people perceive him. I call this Labour’s Wonk Problem: Miliband and many of his closest advisers prefer to focus on policy and speeches, instead of being mindful about image as Tony Blair was. Several polls last week underscored the fact that this has become a problem. In the Times and the Evening Standard, surveys of public opinion found that Miliband trailed Cameron on several key personal characteristics. When Miliband was elected Labour leader, the Conservatives immediately set out to frame him as "Red Ed". After that didn’t work they decided to switch to Odd Ed, and then back again when unsure. Neither label has quite worked: voters consider the Labour leader to be no more left-wing than Cameron is right-wing.

It isn’t that Miliband is shy or awkward in person – even hardened critics such as Charles Moore admit he is much more affable than his TV persona suggests. The problem is that Miliband himself hasn’t done anything to craft his image beyond a few family-oriented interviews. David Cameron has successfuly managed  to project himself as a tough leader; voters might not like him but enough of them think he is willing to take unpopular decisions to sort out the economy. His Achilles Heel is that while the economy is flat that image will keep crumbling.

But Miliband cannot wait for Cameron’s facade to crumble - he has to tell voters more about himself. He has to actively frame himself. This isn’t a lost cause: the election is still two-and-a-half years away, with the televised debates representing a key opportunity to prove himself in front of the public. His ratings have improved significantly in the last few months as he has taken a strong lead on banking and media reform. But these were about policies and issues, not characteristics.

The image Miliband needs to avoid goes like this: "He is a nice guy, has my interests at heart and means well. But we are in deep trouble and we need a guy willing to take tough decisions to sort out the economy." The one he needs to project goes like this: "Yes, I’m a bit of a geek and a bit bookish. I sometimes speak like a guy who has worked in Westminster all his life. But I’m intelligent, genuine and bold. I care less about PR stunts and more about policy detail. I know my shit. But I know what needs to be done to get this country out of its mess and will take the bold decisions to do so. My opponent only has the interest of the super-rich in mind."

The charge against Cameron should be broadly the same as the one Obama is making against Romney: my opponent may act tough, but he does not have your interests at heart. Miliband also needs to open up more. His Twitter account is a good example of where he could show more personality, but he has been hemmed into taking a highly cautious "here-is-my-latest-statement" approach by his team.

Two years after being elected, it is time Miliband started letting voters know what kind of a person he is. For this, he needs more interventions and fewer policy reviews. He scored a direct hit during the 50p tax cut and that damaged the Conservatives deeply. He needs to create similar traps and take bolder steps to do so. He has to show he has the courage to take on the establishment beyond making a speech just saying that.

Miliband is heading into his third Labour conference as leader in the strongest position he has been in. His biggest job now is to challenge himself to be bolder.

Miliband needs to be "mindful about image as Tony Blair was". Photograph: Getty Images.

Sunny Hundal is editor of Liberal Conspiracy.

GETTY
Show Hide image

Erdogan’s purge was too big and too organised to be a mere reaction to the failed coup

There is a specific word for the melancholy of Istanbul. The city is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. 

Even at the worst of times Istanbul is a beautiful city, and the Bosphorus is a remarkable stretch of sea. Turks get very irritated if you call it a river. They are right. The Bosphorus has a life and energy that a river could never equal. Spend five minutes watching the Bosphorus and you can understand why Orhan Pamuk, Turkey’s Nobel laureate for literature, became fixated by it as he grew up, tracking the movements of the ocean-going vessels, the warships and the freighters as they steamed between Asia and Europe.

I went to an Ottoman palace on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, waiting to interview the former prime minister Ahmet Davu­toglu. He was pushed out of office two months ago by President Recep Tayyip Erdogan when he appeared to be too wedded to the clauses in the Turkish constitution which say that the prime minister is the head of government and the president is a ceremonial head of state. Erdogan was happy with that when he was prime minister. But now he’s president, he wants to change the constitution. If Erdogan can win the vote in parliament he will, in effect, be rubber-stamping the reality he has created since he became president. In the days since the attempted coup, no one has had any doubt about who is the power in the land.

 

City of melancholy

The view from the Ottoman palace was magnificent. Beneath a luscious, pine-shaded garden an oil tanker plied its way towards the Black Sea. Small ferries dodged across the sea lanes. It was not, I hasten to add, Davutoglu’s private residence. It had just been borrowed, for the backdrop. But it reminded a Turkish friend of something she had heard once from the AKP, Erdogan’s ruling party: that they would not rest until they were living in the apartments with balconies and gardens overlooking the Bosphorus that had always been the preserve of the secular elite they wanted to replace.

Pamuk also writes about hüzün, the melancholy that afflicts the citizens of Istanbul. It comes, he says, from the city’s history and its decline, the foghorns on the Bosphorus, from tumbledown walls that have been ruins since the fall of the Byzantine empire, unemployed men in tea houses, covered women waiting for buses that never come, pelting rain and dark evenings: the city’s whole fabric and all the lives within it. “My starting point,” Pamuk wrote, “was the emotion that a child might feel while looking through a steamy window.”

Istanbul is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. In Pamuk’s work the citizens of Istanbul take a perverse pride in hüzün. No one in Istanbul, or elsewhere in Turkey, can draw comfort from what is happening now. Erdogan’s opponents wonder what kind of future they can have in his Turkey. I think I sensed it, too, in the triumphalist crowds of Erdogan supporters that have been gathering day after day since the coup was defeated.

 

Down with the generals

Erdogan’s opponents are not downcast because the coup failed; a big reason why it did was that it had no public support. Turks know way too much about the authoritarian ways of military rule to want it back. The melancholy is because Erdogan is using the coup to entrench himself even more deeply in power. The purge looks too far-reaching, too organised and too big to have been a quick reaction to the attempt on his power. Instead it seems to be a plan that was waiting to be used.

Turkey is a deeply unhappy country. It is hard to imagine now, but when the Arab uprisings happened in 2011 it seemed to be a model for the Middle East. It had elections and an economy that worked and grew. When I asked Davutoglu around that time whether there would be a new Ottoman sphere of influence for the 21st century, he smiled modestly, denied any such ambition and went on to explain that the 2011 uprisings were the true succession to the Ottoman empire. A century of European, and then American, domination was ending. It had been a false start in Middle Eastern history. Now it was back on track. The people of the region were deciding their futures, and perhaps Turkey would have a role, almost like a big brother.

Turkey’s position – straddling east and west, facing Europe and Asia – is the key to its history and its future. It could be, should be, a rock of stability in a desperately un­stable part of the world. But it isn’t, and that is a problem for all of us.

 

Contagion of war

The coup did not come out of a clear sky. Turkey was in deep crisis before the attempt was made. Part of the problem has come from Erdogan’s divisive policies. He has led the AKP to successive election victories since it first won in 2002. But the policies of his governments have not been inclusive. As long as his supporters are happy, the president seems unconcerned about the resentment and opposition he is generating on the other side of politics.

Perhaps that was inevitable. His mission, as a political Islamist, was to change the country, to end the power of secular elites, including the army, which had been dominant since Mustafa Kemal Atatürk created modern Turkey after the collapse of the Ottoman empire. And there is also the influence of chaos and war in the Middle East. Turkey has borders with Iraq and Syria, and is deeply involved in their wars. The borders do not stop the contagion of violence. Hundreds of people have died in the past year in bomb attacks in Turkish cities, some carried out by the jihadists of so-called Islamic State, and some sent by Kurdish separatists working under the PKK.

It is a horrible mix. Erdogan might be able to deal with it better if he had used the attempted coup to try to unite Turkey. All the parliamentary parties condemned it. But instead, he has turned the power of the state against his opponents. More rough times lie ahead.

Jeremy Bowen is the BBC’s Middle East editor. He tweets @bowenbbc

This article first appeared in the 28 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double Issue