Labour’s unending spite towards the Lib Dems is self-defeating

Even if Miliband thinks Clegg is dead in the water he must remember that voters are unimpressed by p

The longer Labour sustain double digit poll leads over the Conservatives, the more people start to ponder seriously the prospect of Ed Miliband as Prime Minister. It is not inconceivable that that the current government could unravel so spectacularly that the Labour leader marches into an undefended Downing Street like Joshua into Jericho.

But between victory and defeat there lies the awkward prospect of continuing stalemate. (I’ve written before about the strategic deadlock underpinning Britain’s hung politics.) In the rather likely event that no party emerges from the next election with a majority, Miliband would need to find some accommodation with the Liberal Democrats to form a government, whether in coalition or a less formal “confidence and supply” arrangement for parliamentary votes.

Naturally, this scenario is getting more attention as relations between the Tories and the Lib Dems in the current coalition fray. Professor John Curtice of Strathclyde University, a highly respected observer of political and electoral trends, recently used an article in a think tank journal to counsel Labour to be a bit less beastly to Nick Clegg’s party on the grounds that they might need their friendship before too long. Jim Pickard on the FT’s Westminster blog today reports that high-level contacts between the two parties do exist, although for the time being conversations seem limited to discussion of single-issue tactical considerations: banking, House of Lords reform.

Besides, the main point of contact for Labour appears to be Vince Cable, whose nostalgic impulses towards a revival of the old “progressive alliance” are tolerated by Clegg’s office but not shared. There was an excellent analysis of the prospects for a Lib-Lab pact on last night’s edition of the Westminster Hour on BBC Radio 4. Well worth a listen. The conclusion seemed to be that most Labour MPs simply cannot get past their tribal loathing of the Lib Dems and visceral sense that Clegg’s decision to facilitate the installation of a Conservative Prime Minister was treasonous. The volumes of venom that have been sprayed over Lib Dem MPs in parliament seem to go beyond the usual antagonism of civilised politics. As one senior Lib Dem minister says of Labour: “They don’t mind the Tories because that’s part of the game, but they really hate us and want to destroy us.”  

To be fair, that is not an impossible goal. Coalition has not worked out so well for the Lib Dems in terms of poll ratings  -  Ukip periodically challenge them for third place. That weakness is giving Labour ever more confidence to simply ignore Clegg. Senior figures in the party have concluded that the Lib Dem leader is essentially finished in Westminster. From a tactical perspective it might be more worth Miliband’s while trying to decapitate the third party in the hope of working with a more amenable successor. Even if Clegg survives, the Lib Dems will want to stay in government after the next election and will do whichever deal works best for them. In other words, the time to be nice to the Lib Dems is after polling day. Before then, the focus is on winning a majority. There is some rationality in that view but it overlooks the importance of culture in politics. Labour needs to wean itself off spite towards the Lib Dems, not simply because there might be a future coalition at stake but because wounded, petty, tribal insularity is generally an unattractive feature of politics that puts off swing voters. Conspicuous displays of pluralism will make people more likely to trust Labour. Paradoxically, it is possible that the nicer Miliband can be to the Lib Dems now, the less likely he is to need them after an election.
 

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

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A swimming pool and a bleeding toe put my medical competency in doubt

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Sometimes the search engine wins. 

The brutal heatwave affecting southern Europe this summer has become known among locals as “Lucifer”. Having just returned from Italy, I fully understand the nickname. An early excursion caused the beginnings of sunstroke, so we abandoned plans to explore the cultural heritage of the Amalfi region and strayed no further than five metres from the hotel pool for the rest of the week.

The children were delighted, particularly my 12-year-old stepdaughter, Gracie, who proceeded to spend hours at a time playing in the water. Towelling herself after one long session, she noticed something odd.

“What’s happened there?” she asked, holding her foot aloft in front of my face.

I inspected the proffered appendage: on the underside of her big toe was an oblong area of glistening red flesh that looked like a chunk of raw steak.

“Did you injure it?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

I shrugged and said she must have grazed it. She wasn’t convinced, pointing out that she would remember if she had done that. She has great faith in plasters, though, and once it was dressed she forgot all about it. I dismissed it, too, assuming it was one of those things.

By the end of the next day, the pulp on the underside of all of her toes looked the same. As the doctor in the family, I felt under some pressure to come up with an explanation. I made up something about burns from the hot paving slabs around the pool. Gracie didn’t say as much, but her look suggested a dawning scepticism over my claims to hold a medical degree.

The next day, Gracie and her new-found holiday playmate, Eve, abruptly terminated a marathon piggy-in-the-middle session in the pool with Eve’s dad. “Our feet are bleeding,” they announced, somewhat incredulously. Sure enough, bright-red blood was flowing, apparently painlessly, from the bottoms of their big toes.

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Often, what patients discover on the internet causes them undue alarm, and our role is to provide context and reassurance. But not infrequently, people come across information that outstrips our knowledge. On my return from our room with fresh supplies of plasters, my wife looked up from her sun lounger with an air of quiet amusement.

“It’s called ‘pool toe’,” she said, handing me her iPhone. The page she had tracked down described the girls’ situation exactly: friction burns, most commonly seen in children, caused by repetitive hopping about on the abrasive floors of swimming pools. Doctors practising in hot countries must see it all the time. I doubt it presents often to British GPs.

I remained puzzled about the lack of pain. The injuries looked bad, but neither Gracie nor Eve was particularly bothered. Here the internet drew a blank, but I suspect it has to do with the “pruning” of our skin that we’re all familiar with after a soak in the bath. This only occurs over the pulps of our fingers and toes. It was once thought to be caused by water diffusing into skin cells, making them swell, but the truth is far more fascinating.

The wrinkling is an active process, triggered by immersion, in which the blood supply to the pulp regions is switched off, causing the skin there to shrink and pucker. This creates the biological equivalent of tyre treads on our fingers and toes and markedly improves our grip – of great evolutionary advantage when grasping slippery fish in a river, or if trying to maintain balance on slick wet rocks.

The flip side of this is much greater friction, leading to abrasion of the skin through repeated micro-trauma. And the lack of blood flow causes nerves to shut down, depriving us of the pain that would otherwise alert us to the ongoing tissue damage. An adaptation that helped our ancestors hunt in rivers proves considerably less use on a modern summer holiday.

I may not have seen much of the local heritage, but the trip to Italy taught me something new all the same. 

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear