Murdoch donates $1m to Republicans

He supported Obama in 2008, but now the media tycoon has made one of the Republicans’ biggest privat

Rupert Murdoch has donated $1m to the Republican Party in advance of the midterm elections in November.

The media magnate supported and praised Barack Obama from early on in the primary season in 2008, but has now turned to the Republicans, it seems. News Corporation commented that it supported the Republicans' "pro-business agenda" and felt that the party was aligned with "our priorities at this most critical time for our economy".

The Murdoch-owned titles the Wall Street Journal and New York Post, as well as Fox News, have long been editorially aligned with the Republicans, and now Murdoch himself is following suit.

Crucially, the donation was made to the Republican Governors Association (RGA). Although the main focus so far has been on the House and Senate races, where unusual candidates and unusually large predicted gains have drawn media attention, the GOP also looks likely to gain a majority of governorships. There are 37 governorships being contested this year, the most ever in a single election.

Unlike national political parties and individual candidates for the House and Senate, gubernatorial campaigns can accept unlimited donations from corporations. News Corporation has clearly taken advantage of this in choosing the destination of its funds.

Kansas, Iowa, Michigan, Pennsylvania, Tennessee, Wyoming and Wisconsin all look likely to swing to the Republicans, and in several more states the race is too close to call. A combination of governing-party implosion and the after-effects of the recession will probably allow the Republicans to take six or seven governorships overall, despite a few potential wobbles by GOP candidates in Connecticut, Hawaii and Minnesota.

This is by no means the first time that Murdoch has switched political allegiances to favour his own business interests. In the UK, his famed switch from Conservative to Labour stands out, as does the less prominent switch back for the most recent general election.

Targeting the funding at gubernatorial races rather than those for the House and Senate is undoubtedly designed to further the "pro-business agenda" identified by News Corporation. Although there are variations with individual state constitutions, many governors wield immense power over budgeting and local government appointments, enabling them to set the agenda for regulation and taxation in their state. It increasingly seems that many state legislatures will also swing to the Republicans, and so new governors aren't likely to have much trouble passing legislation once they're in office.

According to information released through the Internal Revenue Service, the RGA has raised $58m in the first half of this year to the Democrats' $40m. In addition to benefiting from anti-incumbent sentiment and recession backlash, the RGA has received significant donations from health insurance giants such as Wellpoint, in response to the passage of the Democrats' health-care bill earlier this year.

Across the US, the midterms are going to be a useful political bellwether for how the parties are really faring post-2008. Murdoch's donation signals perhaps the most intriguing area: how many governorships can the Republicans take?

Caroline Crampton is assistant editor of the New Statesman.

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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