This is a coalition without courage

Forget the double dip: ministers say we can now go faster on the M25 and don't have to recycle as mu

So here it is, then, the legacy of the Coalition taking shape. 80mph motorways, weekly bin collections, 5p plastic bags and making it easier to sack people.

Here is a Government acting like a giant mimsying parish council tinkering at the edges while everything else falls apart. Forget the double dip, our whole nation descending like a spittle-soaked nacho being plunged into an over-ripe bowl of taramasalata; we can go a bit faster on the M25! We can throw away as much as we like! We can pretend to care about the environment! We can get rid of more staff without worrying about their pesky so-called rights!

Neeyow! Stick two fingers up to the so-called speed cameras brigade daring to stop 'otherwise-law-abiding' motorists and put your foot down hard on the gas pedal. Here comes freedom! You might not have a job, but if you did have a job, you'd be able to drive a bit faster, if you could afford a car, which you can't, because there aren't any jobs. But suppose you did have a car: you could go more quickly in it. Doesn't that make you feel better about things?

As well as that, you can throw away as much as you like, because Eric Pickles has found £250million down the back of the settee to reward councils who reinstate weekly bin collections. Hurrah! Of course, you might find that cold comfort if you're not earning enough money to be able to afford anything - let alone to be able to afford to just chuck stuff away without recycling or composting - but suppose you did have money: you could waste more of it. Doesn't that make you feel better about things, either?

Forget your local library closing down. Forget the fact there are no jobs, there is no future, there is a whole generation scratching around for work that isn't there. Forget those hundreds of Navy folk heading for the Jobcentreplus; they'll have the consolation of knowing they can retrain as dustmen and women to fill the literally fives of vacancies that will spring up across the land when we enter the wonderful world of weekly collections. Let's have trained Navy personnel manning the dustcarts and launching wheelie bins as torpedoes as they roar around at 80mph twice a week; it's a perfect solution.

Of course, these are just amuse-bouches to whet our appetites as we await the big decisions at the Conservative Party conference, but they give an indication of what we can expect over the next three and a bit years as the Tories head towards glorious re-election. What we can expect is a mess. On the one hand: mess we inherited, tough decisions, privatise everything, sack everyone. On the other: weekly bin collections, driving a bit faster, possibly having to pay 5p for plastic bags.

A Government that wanted to make really tough decisions and leave a real legacy - as opposed to sacking loads of public sector workers they were going to sack anyway, but having the bonus of blaming the previous Government for the deficit in order to do so - would decrease the speed limit, and get even tougher on recycling targets for councils, in order to reduce emissions and stop waste. But we all know why that won't happen. It won't happen because the Coalition doesn't have any courage. All it has is an agenda to obliterate the state, while chucking a bone to its selfish heartland to ensure it gets served up a second term in office. The question is whether they're going to get away with it.

Patrolling the murkier waters of the mainstream media
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In the 1980s, I went to a rally where Labour Party speakers shared the stage with men in balaclavas

The links between the Labour left and Irish republicanism are worth investigating.

A spat between Jeremy Corbyn’s henchfolk and Conor McGinn, the MP for St Helens North, caught my ear the other evening. McGinn was a guest on BBC Radio 4’s Westminster Hour, and he obligingly revisited the brouhaha for the listeners at home. Apparently, following an interview in May, in which McGinn called for Corbyn to “reach out beyond his comfort zone”, he was first threatened obliquely with the sack, then asked for a retraction (which he refused to give) and finally learned – from someone in the whips’ office – that his party leader was considering phoning up McGinn’s father to whip the errant whipper-in into line. On the programme, McGinn said: “The modus operandi that he [Corbyn] and the people around him were trying to do [sic], involving my family, was to isolate and ostracise me from them and from the community I am very proud to come from – which is an Irish nationalist community in south Armagh.”

Needless to say, the Labour leader’s office has continued to deny any such thing, but while we may nurture some suspicions about his behaviour, McGinn was also indulging in a little airbrushing when he described south Armagh as an “Irish ­nationalist community”. In the most recent elections, Newry and Armagh returned three Sinn Fein members to the Northern Ireland Assembly (as against one Social Democratic and Labour Party member) and one Sinn Fein MP to Westminster. When I last looked, Sinn Fein was still a republican, rather than a nationalist, party – something that McGinn should only be too well aware of, as the paternal hand that was putatively to have been lain on him belongs to Pat McGinn, the former Sinn Fein mayor of Newry and Armagh.

According to the Irish News, a “close friend” of the McGinns poured this cold water on the mini-conflagration: “Anybody who knows the McGinn family knows that Pat is very proud of Conor and that they remain very close.” The friend went on to opine: “He [Pat McGinn] found the whole notion of Corbyn phoning him totally ridiculous – as if Pat is going to criticise his son to save Jeremy Corbyn’s face. They would laugh about it were it not so sinister.”

“Sinister” does seem the mot juste. McGinn, Jr grew up in Bessbrook during the Troubles. I visited the village in the early 1990s on assignment. The skies were full of the chattering of British army Chinooks, and there were fake road signs in the hedgerows bearing pictograms of rifles and captioned: “Sniper at work”. South Armagh had been known for years as “bandit country”. There were army watchtowers standing sentinel in the dinky, green fields and checkpoints everywhere, manned by some of the thousands of the troops who had been deployed to fight what was, in effect, a low-level counter-insurgency war. Nationalist community, my foot.

What lies beneath the Corbyn-McGinn spat is the queered problematics of the ­relationship between the far left wing of the Labour Party and physical-force Irish republicanism. I also recall, during the hunger strikes of the early 1980s, going to a “Smash the H-Blocks” rally in Kilburn, north London, at which Labour Party speakers shared the stage with representatives from Sinn Fein, some of whom wore balaclavas and dark glasses to evade the telephoto lenses of the Met’s anti-terrorist squad.

The shape-shifting relationship between the “political wing” of the IRA and the men with sniper rifles in the south Armagh bocage was always of the essence of the conflict, allowing both sides a convenient fiction around which to posture publicly and privately negotiate. In choosing to appear on platforms with people who might or might not be terrorists, Labour leftists also sprinkled a little of their stardust on themselves: the “stardust” being the implication that they, too, under the right circumstances, might be capable of violence in pursuit of their political ends.

On the far right of British politics, Her Majesty’s Government and its apparatus are referred to derisively as “state”. There were various attempts in the 1970s and 1980s by far-right groupuscules to link up with the Ulster Freedom Fighters and other loyalist paramilitary organisations in their battle against “state”. All foundered on the obvious incompetence of the fascists. The situation on the far left was different. The socialist credentials of Sinn Fein/IRA were too threadbare for genuine expressions of solidarity, but there was a sort of tacit confidence-and-supply arrangement between these factions. The Labour far left provided the republicans with the confidence that, should an appropriately radical government be elected to Westminster, “state” would withdraw from Northern Ireland. What the republicans did for the mainland militants was to cloak them in their penumbra of darkness: without needing to call down on themselves the armed might of “state”, they could imply that they were willing to take it on, should the opportunity arise.

I don’t for a second believe that Corbyn was summoning up these ghosts of the insurrectionary dead when he either did or did not threaten to phone McGinn, Sr. But his supporters need to ask themselves what they’re getting into. Their leader, if he was to have remained true to the positions that he has espoused over many years, should have refused to sit as privy counsellor upon assuming his party office, and refused all the other mummery associated with the monarchical “state”. That he didn’t do so was surely a strategic decision. Such a position would make him utterly unelectable.

The snipers may not be at work in south Armagh just now – but there are rifles out there that could yet be dug up. I wouldn’t be surprised if some in Sinn Fein knew where they are, but one thing’s for certain: Corbyn hasn’t got a clue, bloody or otherwise. 

Will Self is an author and journalist. His books include Umbrella, Shark, The Book of Dave and The Butt. He writes the Madness of Crowds and Real Meals columns for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser