Miliband at his best and at his boldest

The Labour leader delivered his most confident and effective speech to date.

"Ed speaks human", his supporters used to say, and today Ed Milband proved that he can. Speaking without notes for more than an hour, this was the best and most relaxed speech he has delivered since becoming Labour leader. The jokes were funny, the message was hopeful, and the attack lines were lethal. Returning repeatedly to the theme of "one nation", he suggested that while David Cameron had failed to live up to this tradition, he could. His "faith" (the other leitmotif) was, he said, not a religious one, but one that the religious would recognise all the same. It was defined by the belief that "we have a duty to leave the world a better place".

From there, he argued that the Tories, both heartless and hopeless, were set to leave Britain a worse place. The government's biggest mistakes - the NHS reorganisation ("you can't trust the Tories with the NHS"), the abolition of the 50p tax rate, the devotion to austerity - were all ruthlessly recalled. As, inevitably, was Andrew Mitchell's run-in with the police. But while the Lib Dems sought to make light of the incident ("my fellow plebs," Danny Alexander quipped), Miliband angrily brandished it as evidence of why the Tories could never be a "one nation" government.

Fears that the speech would be jargonistic and wonkish were dispatched ("predistribution" was nowhere to be found) as the Labour leader expressed himself in clear, accessible terms. "If the medicine's not working," he said of the economy, "you need to change the medicine. And you need to change the doctor too." And he vowed that while Labour would be forced to take tough decisions in office, he would never cut taxes for the richest, while raising them for the poorest - "those with the broadest shoulders will always bear the greatest burden." He could not wish for a more potent dividing line with Cameron's party.

But while Miliband was clearer than ever about his differences with the Tories, he also extended an olive branch to their supporters. In one of the most effective passages, he declared that he understood why they voted Conservative and why they "turned away from the last Labour government". But now that the country was back in recession and borrowing more than last year, Cameron no longer deserved the benefit of the doubt. With an eye to the right, Miliband also acknowledged that a Labour government would have to cut spending - "we've got to live within our means" - and declared that, while he would do everything possible to help the unemployed, those who could work had a "responsibility" to do so. As for the Lib Dems, Miliband, more in sorrow than in anger, lamented that the party behind the 1909 People's Budget had supported the "millionaire's budget" of 2012.

While light on policy, the speech successfully outlined a vision of a fairer, more generous society. The banks would "serve the country", rather than the country serving the banks, the "free market" in the NHS would end, and the "two nations" - the rich and the rest - would be brought together. Displaying his new-found confidence, Miliband recalled his "predators and producers" refrain, adding that "one year on, people know what I was talking about".

After this speech, the Tories will no longer be able to console themselves with the thought that while Labour rides high, Miliband is unelectable. Once seen as a drag on his party, the Labour leader will now be recognised as an asset.

Labour leader Ed Miliband acknowledges the applause as he delivers his speech to delegates at the Labour conference in Manchester. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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When Theresa May speaks, why don't we listen?

Not many Prime Ministers have to repeat themselves three times. 

Theresa May is the candidate of Brexit and market panic. She ascended to the highest office because, in the fraught weeks after Britain’s vote to leave the European Union, she represented a safe haven for nervous Conservative MPs, the dependable family mutual that remained open while all along the Conservative high street, her rivals were shutting up shop.

Her popularity, as revealed in high poll ratings outside Westminster, too, owes itself to the perception that she is a serious politician in serious times, happily installed atop the ship of state to guide it through the rocky waters of Brexit negotiations.

May’s premiership has been defined by market panics of a different kind, however. The first is in the currency markets, where sterling takes a tumble whenever she pronounces on Britain’s future relationship with the European Union, falling both after her conference speech on 2 October and after her start-of-the-year interview with Sophy Ridge on 8 January. The second is in the opinion pages, where May’s stock oscillates wildly from bullish to bearish.

In the first months of May’s government, she was hailed as an Anglo-Saxon counterpart to Angela Merkel: a solid centre-right Christian democrat who would usher in a decade of conservative hegemony. More recently, she has been compared to Gordon Brown because of her perceived indecisiveness and repeatedly accused of failing to spell out what, exactly, her government’s Brexit objectives are.

In a symbol of the splits on the right between the Brexiteers and Remainers, the Economist, that bible of free-market globalisation and usually a reliable tastemaker as far as Westminster groupthink is concerned, began 2017 by dubbing the Prime Minister “Theresa Maybe”. Though May’s Downing Street is less concerned with the minutiae of what goes on in the public press than David Cameron’s, the contention that she is indecisive was a source of frustration.

There is an element of truth in the claim that May still views the world through a “Home Office lens”. One senior minister complains that Downing Street considers the Ministry of Justice as a “rogue outpost” of May’s old stomping ground, rather than a fully fledged department with its own interests and perspectives.

Yet even the most authoritarian of home secretaries would struggle to secure a conviction against May on the charge of opacity as far as her Brexit approach is concerned. She has hit the same grace notes with the reliability of a professional musician: Brexit means freedom from the jurisdiction of the European Court of Justice and control over Britain’s borders, two objectives that can only be achieved as a result of Britain’s exit not only from the EU but also the single market. This was confirmed on 17 January in the Prime Minister’s Lancaster House speech in London.

David Cameron used to say that he would never have “a people”. Certainly, there is no Cameroon tendency in the country at large to match the generation of council house residents that became homeowners and lifelong Conservatives because of Margaret Thatcher and Right to Buy. However, there is, unquestionably, a Cameroon people or faction to be found at almost every rung of London’s financial services sector or at editorial meetings of the Economist, though it as at the Times and the Sun where the treatment of May is at its most noticably rougher than in the Cameron era. 

Michael Gove, her old rival, is not only employed as a columnist by the Times; he enjoys the confidence and admiration of Rupert Murdoch. That the Times secured the first British interview with Donald Trump was a coup for Murdoch, an old associate of the president-elect, and for Gove, who conducted it. It left May in the unlovely position of making history as the first prime minister to be scooped to a first meeting with a new American president by a sitting MP in modern times. It also attested to a source of frustration among May’s allies that she is, for all her undoubted popularity, still ignored or doubted by much of the right-wing establishment.

That condescension partly explains why her words are often listened to briefly, acted on hastily and swiftly forgotten, hence the pound’s cycle of falling when she makes an intervention on Brexit and rising shortly thereafter. The Lancaster House speech was designed to break this pattern. Downing Street briefed the most potent paragraphs at the weekend so that the markets could absorb what she would say before she said it.

As a result, the pound rallied as May delivered her speech, which contained a commitment to a transitional deal that would come into effect after Britain has left the EU. Some financiers believe this arrangement could become permanent, which once again demonstrates how much they underestimate May’s ability to enforce her will.

Being underestimated by Cameron’s people, in Westminster and the City, has the unintended effect of shoring up Theresa May’s position. A prolonged and sustained bout of panic would increase the pressure for a soft landing, but its absence makes it harder for Labour to oppose her effectively, although it has largely acquiesced to the Tory plan for Brexit, at least as far as membership of the single market is concerned. 

Yet for all the plaudits that the Prime Minister’s Lancaster House speech attracted, for all her undoubted popularity in the country, she is in the anomalous position of being a Conservative Prime Minister who has priorities on the European stage other than the preservation of the City of London and to whom Rupert Murdoch is not a natural ally.

As such, she may find that her deadlier enemies come from the right.

Stephen Bush is special correspondent at the New Statesman. His daily briefing, Morning Call, provides a quick and essential guide to British politics.