Osborne should beware of bolstering the Tories' anti-green wing

Voters don't see climate change as a priority, but caring about it was an emblem of Tory moderation.

I recently had a conversation with someone who has conducted a lot of political focus groups. The conversation turned to climate change and environmental policy. The context was the Conservative party’s conspicuous abandonment of green messages. Presumably, I said, this is animated to some degree by the fact that voters aren’t that interested in the subject. The economic crisis has bumped climate change lower down the priority list of public concerns – even lower than it was before. I was surprised by the answer. “It’s more than that. It’s actually a negative,” I was told. Apparently, green policies are seen by many swing voters as an expensive luxury and – worse still – a pious elite preoccupation; one of the ways that a wealthy few sneer at those without money to spare. “Have you seen how much apples cost at the farmers’ market compared to Tesco?” is a standard response.

Making people buy groceries at farmers' markets is not, of course, any party’s idea of a serious policy to tackle climate change. The point is that there is, in many people’s minds, a whole apparatus of environmentalism that is bundled up with the “green lifestyle”, which is, in turn, seen as exclusive, judgemental and expensive. (I don’t say this is true, just that it is the perception.)

That makes it rather easier to understand why the Tories – and George Osborne in particular – feel comfortable striding purposefully away from their old “Vote Blue, Go Green” slogan. The Chancellor, who doubles as Conservative campaign strategist, has surely conducted a simple cost-benefit analysis. On one side of the equation is the awkwardness of being seen to jettison what was once a high-profile policy. On the other side: an easy way to appeal to Tory backbenchers. There is a large section of the Conservative party that sees Labour-era regulations to limit carbon emissions as an onerous burden on business. (As I noted in my column this week Osborne is said, in private, to speak with undisguised irritation and contempt for the Climate Act.)

A smaller, but vocal segment of Tory opinion with important cheerleaders in the media, is unpersuaded by the science of climate change in general. And there are many MPs in rural areas who channel their constituents’ rage at the prospect of wind farms accused of blighting the landscape.

The enhanced power of that wing of the party is plainly expressed in the reshuffle elevation of Owen Paterson, a vocal opponent of wind farms, to the job of Environment Secretary. Meanwhile, a low-level war of briefings and counter-briefings is well under way between the Treasury and the Department for Energy and Climate Change (DECC) over the forthcoming Energy Bill – specifically, on the question of how incentives for investment in renewable energy are structured and how much emphasis should be placed on (unrenewable) gas as a power source. In the Spectator this week, James Forsyth reports the Prime Minister instructing John Hayes, the new Tory minister of state at DECC, to “deliver a win for our people on windfarms.” It all looks like an aggressive pincer movement against Lib Dem Energy Secretary Ed Davey. That is certainly how the Lib Dems are interpreting it.

The shift in emphasis is also provoking concerns on what is sometimes still called the “modernising” wing of the party (although increasingly Tories of all persuasions speak of that feature of the Cameron project in the past tense, some with glee, others in despair).

There are traces of angst about the party finding itself on the wrong side of a moral divide; potentially, in the long-run, on the wrong side of history. Voters might not see climate change as a big political issue, but many still recognise that it is a problem. Some Conservative MPs believed David Cameron when he said he wanted to lead the “greenest government ever” and found it a genuinely attractive proposition. For the time being, however, those eco-dissidents on the Tory benches are staying rather quiet, probably for fear of sounding sympathetic to the Lib Dems – a deeply unfashionable place to be in Conservative circles.

But there is also blunt political calculation animating concern about the Tory leadership jettisoning its green credentials before they were ever properly established. Even if voters don’t want their politicians to bang on about greenery, they haven’t forgotten that Cameron once did. The issue itself is secondary to what it says about the cavalier way in which the Prime Minister picks and chooses his beliefs. As one disillusioned Cameroon put it to me recently: “You can’t claim to be all green one minute, then forget all about it and expect people not to notice.”

This in turn feeds concerns about the influence that George Osborne has over Tory strategy. His reputation as a political chess grandmaster was lost during the Budget and hasn’t been recovered. He is more generally seen now as a relentless tactician – and a fairly crude one at that. He might see ditching green policies as a relatively cost-free way of shoring up his position with the right of the party but that doesn’t mean it makes good strategic sense.

The danger is that dismissal of environmental concerns nurtures and empowers the full-on climate change deniers in the party. That lobby then acquires the kind of fanatical and implacable character of Tory euroscepticism – an article of ideological faith rather than an agenda for practical government. Voters don’t like the European Union much, but that doesn’t mean they are wooed by a Conservative party that channels and amplifies hysterical rage against Brussels. (The issues are connected to the extent that the EU is seen as an engine of low-carbon regulation.)

What matters in terms of the fragile Tory brand is less what MPs think about Europe or the environment so much as the quixotic mania that is perceived to be driving those views. It isn’t clear how Osborne helps his party’s election prospects by being seen, almost literally, to be tilting at windmills.

Osborne is said to speak with "undisguised irritation and contempt for the Climate Act." Photograph: Getty Images.

Rafael Behr is political columnist at the Guardian and former political editor of the New Statesman

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Meet the ex-footballers launching a support network for victims of sexual abuse in the sport

The Offside Trust is set up after hundreds have come forward, and 55 football clubs have been linked to allegations of abuse.

In a sumptuous room inside a luxurious hotel in the centre of Manchester, the country’s media anxiously await the arrival of a man whose story has rocked English football to its very foundations.

Since Andy Woodward went public with allegations that he experienced sexual abuse as a young footballer in the 1980s, the nation’s favourite sport has been left in crisis and, in the process, forced to do some soul-searching.

Following Woodward’s story, a number of his peers have also come forward with tales of unimaginable suffering.

This week, some of those men have joined together to launch the Offside Trust, an independently-run body aiming to provide support to players and the families of those who have suffered sexual abuse in football and other sports.

According to Woodward and his colleagues, the Trust won’t just be a way to help those who have been abused while playing the sport they love, but also represents a direct response to institutions that, in their view, have failed to protect them.

“A number of people who have come forward have indicated that they don’t have trust in the establishment,” says Edward Smethurst from Prosperity Law LLP, a Manchester law firm in charge of administering the trust.

“We are not here to criticise any of the establishment bodies, but we do have to respect the sensibilities and the opinions of the victims.” 

Wearing a crisp blue suit, hair combed neatly into place, Woodward’s composed demeanour masks the tremendous emotional stress he has revealed to the world he had to endure for decades, in silence until now.

Hearing him retell his story time and again, it is evident that, although exhausting, this process of letting the world know the horrors he says he experienced as a boy is both cathartic and a way to help others.

“I’m totally overwhelmed, the emotions are just unreal,” he says. “I can’t believe how many [people] have come forward, but I just encourage more and more [people] to have that strength and have that belief to do it.”

Sitting beside Woodward is Steve Walters – a former football prodigy whose career was cut short due to a blood disorder – who says he fell prey to the same serial child molester as Woodard. The person in question can no longer be named for legal reasons.

Walters tells me how his story has affected every aspect of his life. “It has ruined marriages, the relationship with my children, flashbacks, lack of sleep, panic attacks,” he tells me.

Walters speaks of “injustices” done to him for the past 20 years by those in charge of the sport he once loved. But he also knows how he would like to start turning the page and move on with his life.

“An apology [from Crewe Football Club] would be a start,” he says. “For them to not even put out one small apology, it does hurt.”

Since Woodward’s allegations were first made public on 16 November, 18 police forces across the country are now investigating claims of historic sexual abuse in football.

Every player I speak to at the Offside Trust launch in Manchester describes this as an epidemic, and that, in modern Britain, some children are still at the mercy of paedophiles operating within the sport. 

“I do believe it’s happening,” says Jason Dunford, who also claims to have been abused at Crewe Alexandra. “I believe it’s happening on a lower scale than when we were children, but as a father of a young boy who is around the football industry at the moment, I still have worries.”

Woodward coming forward has had worldwide implications. Walters and Dunford tell me they have been contacted by players as far-flung as South America and Australia who say they have been through the same ordeal as young footballers. The men are adamant this is not a UK problem, but a football one – wherever the game is played.

Woodward is mentally drained. Prior to the interview, he repeatedly tells me how the whirlwind of the last few weeks has affected his health. But he knows that this is his chance, perhaps the only one he’ll get, to help those like him.

“The closure will be when I feel like I’m satisfied that I have done everything I can to help as many people out there as possible,” he says. “People with children in football need protecting.” 

Felipe Araujo is a freelance journalist based in London. He writes about race, culture and sports. He covered the Rio Olympics and Paralympics on the ground for the New Statesman. He tweets @felipethejourno.