Populus poll shows effects of Labour coup attempt. Or does it?

The party loses 2 points as the Tories gain 1, but support for Brown has increased

The Times has published its monthly Populus poll, taken over the weekend. The headline figures were 28 per cent for Labour, 41 per cent for the Tories and 19 per cent for the Liberal Democrats.

This is 2 points down for Labour and 3 points up for the Tories on the last Populus poll, in early December, and appears to show that the plot against Gordon Brown by Patricia Hewitt and Geoff Hoon has damaged Labour in the eyes of voters. It follows an ICM poll for the Sunday Telegraph at the weekend that gave Labour 30 per cent and the Conservatives 40 per cent, reported with the headline: "Week of bungled plots boosts Labour in poll".

It is possible that the Telegraph poll was simply taken too soon after the event to show the ripple effect, but it's also worth noting that the Telegraph/Times polls display results within 2 points of each other, despite their totally different interpretations of events (the Times poll is headlined "Poll shows failed coup hit Labour hopes hard"). The electorate is still lukewarm, and the press apparently divided on how to portray voters' reaction to the latest developments in Westminster.

Mike Smithson at PoliticalBetting points out that the Populus poll is especially interesting, as it is "the pollster that has tended to produce the best numbers for the [Labour] party and the lowest for the Tories".

The poll also shows that support for Brown has actually been bolstered. Forty-one per cent of general voters believe that he is the best leader for Labour at present, up 8 points since last September. Among Labour supporters, the figure was up 9 points to 71 per cent.

Anthony Wells at UK Polling Report attributes this to "sympathy", but, as my colleagues have repeatedly argued here, it may have a lot more to do with the timing (so close to the general election), and -- vitally -- the absence of a clear successor to Brown for rebels to gather around.

This is supported by further evidence from the poll. While 12 per cent said they could think of another Labour politician who would make a better leader, nearly half of this group said, when pressed, that they didn't know who, or couldn't remember.

Labour pundits should also take note that while David Cameron continues to lead overall, 50 per cent of people said that he was on the side of the rich over ordinary people, while 42 per cent disagreed. This shows that the "class war" strategy, though it sounds crude when put in those terms, could still be effective. Issues of fairness, such as inheritance tax, remain the Achilles heel of the Tories, and Labour would do well to capitalise upon this.

Meanwhile, 64 per cent said that Brown was on the side of ordinary people, with just 26 per cent saying he was for the rich. The improvement was primarily among unskilled working-class voters, showing that, despite the horror of Peter Mandelson, among others, at the prospect of appealing too heavily to Labour's core vote, it might not be such a bad idea. As Rachel Sylvester points out in the Times today, while such voters alone might not make enough of a difference to win the election, it will not help Labour if they stay at home or vote BNP.

 

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Samira Shackle is a freelance journalist, who tweets @samirashackle. She was formerly a staff writer for the New Statesman.

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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