How Blue Labour can outflank the coalition

There is a huge opportunity for Ed Miliband to borrow and adapt thinking from the centre right.

When political parties have been in government for a long time, they run out of new ideas. After their crushing defeat in 1997, it took an awfully long time for the Conservatives to even refresh their thinking. The process of intellectual renewal didn't begin in earnest until after 2001, when a new generation of think tanks were created to modernise the centre right.

Something similar is needed now on the centre left. A process of renewal is slowly starting. New groups like the Resolution Foundation are doing interesting work on stagnating wages. The Blue Labour project is interesting, as any group involving both James Purnell and Jon Cruddas is likely to be.

The problem is that this new thinking won't come to fruition for years yet. And that leaves Ed Miliband awfully exposed. Why not borrow and adapt some thinking from the centre right? There are plenty of opportunities to outflank the coalition.

I hear you groan. Of course, these days people are naturally suspicious of anything that smacks of "triangulation" or "outflanking". I understand why. Crass attempts to defeat your ideological opponents by turning yourself into them don't work in the long term. There is no point trying to out-racist the BNP. But there are a whole set of new ideas floating about on the centre right that can fit in with Labour voters' values.

Take the environment. Over the course of recent years, politicians have scrambled to catch up with the public, and have quickly cobbled together a framework of policies to be seen to be "doing something". Partly because of this scramble for headlines, our current set of policies are not particularly effective. We have some, like the climate change levy, which reduce carbon emissions at a cost of less than £4 a tonne. We have others, like feed-in tariffs and the renewable heat incentive, which do the same job, but at a cost which is orders of magnitude higher. (The feed in tariff is about £440 for the same tonne). Rationalising the higgledy-piggledy mix of overlapping instruments we now have would allow us to decarbonise more, at a lower cost. With energy bills now a front page issue again, and Labour voters most likely to feel the pinch, there is a huge political opportunity here: making things "greener and cheaper" is the winning position in the green debate. You could spend the savings on reducing fuel poverty.

Or think about welfare. Here, things are tricky. Public attitudes are often described by commentators as "tough". That's partially true, but is a rather superficial reading. It is true that there is a big political danger for Labour in being too associated with an uncritical defence of the welfare status quo. Voters quite rightly want to change a system that left 5-6 million working age adults on out-of-work benefits all the way through the long boom.

But there are public attitudes and policy opportunities that Labour can work with. The first is strong public support for the contributory principle -- the idea that those who make greater contributions will get more out of the welfare system. This was a core principle of the welfare state as designed by William Beveridge and Lloyd George, who regarded it as essential for both reasons of fairness and public support for the welfare state, and also to underpin incentives to work. But every time the UK has experienced fiscal problems, we have rinsed the contributory principle out of the system a little further, because it is politically tempting to hit those whose immediate needs are less severe. This process is still going on, and few people realise that the UK is an extreme outlier among developed countries in having moved so far away from this principle. Most other countries, from the US to Germany have contributory unemployment insurance at a higher rate than basic welfare payments.

Perhaps the most interesting concrete proposal to emerge from the "Blue Labour" discussions so far is a renewed interest in the contributory principle. But how to get from here to there? At Policy Exchange, we recently suggested allowing the creation of a personal welfare account that would sit above the new Universal Credit. However, that would take time and money to run up. As a first step, we could change things so that the conditions on receipt of welfare benefits (like the period in which you can turn down non-preferred jobs) were relatively more generous than for those with a record of national insurance contributions, compared to those without.

On crime too, there are relatively technocratic ideas floating around on the centre-right which Labour should be seizing on. Poor people are disproportionately likely to be the victims of crime. And polling by Lord Ashcroft suggests that crime has become the government's main vulnerability. The polls also show that the public are far "tougher" on crime than any of the main political parties are. But voters aren't thick either: given that money is tight, we need to be smart on crime, and use resources in the most effective way.

There are masses of things that could be done to improve the criminal justice system, which don't involve spending more money. Our prisons are awash with drugs, and the Metropolitan Police estimates that there are a thousand corrupt officers bringing them in. We will never make progress on rehabilitation until we sort this out. Prison work has been neglected and too few prisoners work. Meaningful work helps rehabilitation, and the money it would generate could be used to help victims and also to get prisoners to partially "pay for their stay." Community sentences are rightly regarded as a joke by the voters, because they fail to stop reoffending. We have proposed thaty they be replaced them with meaningful "work orders".

Despite Tony Blair's promise to be tough on the causes of crime, crime prevention efforts are still peripheral. And of course, there is much more that can be done to enable the police to do more with less: from the shift to individual patrolling (twice as many patrols for the same money) to the more targeted use of expensive warranted officers (they shouldn't be cleaning cars).

On schools, Labour needs a much clearer response to the coalition's expansion of the academies programme. Given that it was originally a Labour initiative, perhaps it is time to try and snatch the policy back. The new government has radically increased the number of academies by allowing existing schools to convert to academy status. And it has introduced new parent-driven free schools. But Andrew Adonis' original academies programme -- in which consistently failing schools are replaced by new schools -- is still up and running. Seven schools of this type, sponsored by individuals and institutions, opened in the first couple of months of this year. Unfortunately for Labour, the government are already moving to rebalance their agenda back towards the Adonis vision. Andy Burnham needs to move much quicker if he is going to grasp this opportunity.
Why not take Adonis' original concept and turbocharge it? Set the bar for failure far higher and aim to replace not tens but hundreds of schools that are failing less privileged children. You could push lots of public institutions to act as sponsors: every university in the country, for instance. If you wanted to make a political point and needle the Tories, you could push independent schools to act as sponsors too.

Trying to turn around a party after a long period in government is a tough gig, as William Hague and Iain Duncan Smith discovered. But there are all kinds of policy opportunities out there for Ed Miliband, if he chooses to take them.

Neil O'Brien is Director of Policy Exchange

Neil O'Brien is the director of Policy Exchange.

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Love a good box set? Then you should watch the Snooker World Championships

The game relies on a steady arm, which relies on a steady nerve. The result is a slow creeping tension needs time and space to be properly enjoyed and endured. 

People are lazy and people are impatient. This has always been so – just ask Moses or his rock – but as illustrated by kindly old Yahweh, in those days they could not simply answer those impulses and stroll on.

Nowadays, that is no longer so. Twitter, YouTube and listicles reflect a desire for complex and involved issues, expansive and nuanced sports – what we might term quality – to be condensed into easily digestible morsels for effort-free enjoyment.

There is, though, one notable exception to this trend: the box set. Pursuing a novelistic, literary sensibility, it credits its audience with the power of sentience and tells riveting stories slowly, unfolding things in whichever manner that it is best for them to unfold.

In the first episode of the first series of The Sopranos, we hear Tony demean his wife Carmela's irritation with him via the phrase “always with the drama”; in the seventh episode of the first series we see his mother do likewise to his father; and in the 21st and final episode of the sixth and final series, his son uses it on Carmela. It is precisely this richness and this care that makes The Sopranos not only the finest TV show ever made, but the finest artefact that contemporary society has to offer. It forces us to think, try and feel.

We have two principal methods of consuming art of this ilk - weekly episode, or week-long binge. The former allows for anticipation and contemplation, worthy pursuits both, but of an entirely different order to the immersion and obsession offered by the latter. Who, when watching the Wire, didn’t find themselves agreeing that trudat, it's time to reup the dishwasher salt, but we’ve run out, ain’t no thing. Losing yourself in another world is rare, likewise excitement at where your mind is going next.

In a sporting context, this can only be achieved via World Championship snooker. Because snooker is a simple, repetitive game, it is absorbing very quickly, its run of play faithfully reflected by the score.

But the Worlds are special. The first round is played over ten frames – as many as the final in the next most prestigious competition – and rather than the usual week, it lasts for 17 magical days, from morning until night. This bestows upon us the opportunity to, figuratively at least, put away our lives and concentrate. Of course, work and family still exist, but only in the context of the snooker and without anything like the same intensity. There is no joy on earth like watching the BBC’s shot of the championship compilation to discover that not only did you see most of them live, but that you have successfully predicted the shortlist.

It is true that people competing at anything provides compelling drama, emotion, pathos and bathos - the Olympics proves this every four years. But there is something uniquely nourishing about longform snooker, which is why it has sustained for decades without significant alteration.

The game relies on a steady arm, which relies on a steady nerve. The result is a slow creeping tension needs time and space to be properly enjoyed and endured. Most frequently, snooker is grouped with darts as a non-athletic sport, instead testing fine motor skills and the ability to calculate angles, velocity and forthcoming shots. However, its tempo and depth is more similar to Test cricket – except snooker trusts so much in its magnificence that it refuses to compromise the values which underpin it.

Alfred Hitchcock once explained that if two people are talking and a bomb explodes without warning, it constitutes surprise; but if two people are talking and all the while a ticking bomb is visible under the table, it constitutes suspense. “In these conditions,” he said, “The same innocuous conversation becomes fascinating because the public is participating in the scene. The audience is longing to warn the characters on the screen: ‘You shouldn't be talking about such trivial matters. There is a bomb beneath you and it is about to explode!’”

Such is snooker. In more or less every break, there will at some point be at least one difficult shot, loss of position or bad contact – and there will always be pressure. Add to that the broken flow of things – time spent waiting for the balls to stop, time spent prowling around the table, time spent sizing up the table, time spent cleaning the white, time spent waiting for a turn – and the ability for things to go wrong is constantly in contemplation.

All the more so in Sheffield’s Crucible Theatre. This venue, in its 40th year of hosting the competition, is elemental to its success. Place is crucial to storytelling, and even the word “Crucible” – whether “a ceramic or metal container in which metals or other substances may be melted or subjected to very high temperatures,” “a situation of severe trial”, or Arthur Miller’s searing play – conjures images of destruction, injustice and nakedness. And the actual Crucible is perhaps the most atmospheric arena in sport - intimate, quiet, and home to a legendarily knowledgeable audience, able to calculate when a player has secured a frame simply by listening to commentary through an earpiece and applauding as soon as the information is communicated to them.

To temper the stress, snooker is also something incredibly comforting. This is partly rooted in its scheduling. Working day and late-night sport is illicit and conspiratorial, while its presence in revision season has entire cohorts committing to “just one more quick frame”, and “just one more quick spliff”. But most powerfully of all, world championship snooker triggers memory and nostalgia, a rare example of something that hasn’t changed, as captivating now as it was in childhood.

This wistfulness is complemented by sensory pleasure of the lushest order. The colours of both baize and balls are the brightest, most engaging iterations imaginable, while the click of cue on ball, the clunk of ball on ball and the clack of ball on pocket is deep and musical; omnipresent and predictable, they combine for a soundtrack that one might play to a baby in the womb, instead of whale music or Megadeth.

Repeating rhythms are also set by the commentators, former players of many years standing. As is natural with extended coverage of repetitive-action games, there are numerous phrases that recur:

“We all love these tactical frames, but the players are so good nowadays that one mistake and your opponent’s in, so here he is, looking to win the frame at one visit ... and it’s there, right in the heart of the pocket for frame and match! But where’s the cue ball going! it really is amazing what can happen in the game of snooker, especially when we’re down to this one-table situation.”

But as omniscient narrators, the same men also provide actual insight, alerting us to options and eventualities of which we would otherwise be ignorant. Snooker is a simple game but geometry and physics are complicated, so an expert eye is required to explain them intelligibly; it is done with a winning combination of levity and sincerity.

The only essential way in which snooker is different is the standard of play. The first round of this year’s draw featured eight past winners, only two of whom have made it to the last four, and there were three second-round games that were plausible finals.

And just as literary fiction is as much about character as plot, so too is snooker. Nothing makes you feel you know someone like studying them over years at moments of elation and desolation, pressure and release, punctuated by TV confessions of guilty pleasures, such as foot massages, and bucket list contents, such as naked bungee jumping.

It is probably true that there are not as many “characters” in the game as once there were, but there are just as many characters, all of whom are part of that tradition. And because players play throughout their adult life, able to establish their personalities, in unforgiving close-up, over a number of years, they need not be bombastic to tell compelling stories, growing and undergoing change in the same way as Dorothea Brooke or Paulie Gualtieri.

Of no one is this more evident that Ding Junhui, runner-up last year and current semi-finalist this; though he is only 30, we have been watching him almost half his life. In 2007, he reached the final of the Masters tournament, in which he faced Ronnie O’Sullivan, the most naturally talented player ever to pick up a cue – TMNTPETPUAC for short. The crowd were, to be charitable, being boisterous, and to be honest, being pricks, and at the same time, O’Sullivan was playing monumentally well. So at the mid-session interval, Ding left the arena in tears and O’Sullivan took his arm in consolation; then when Ding beat O’Sullivan in this year’s quarter-final, he rested his head on O’Sullivan’s shoulder and exchanged words of encouragement for words of respect. It was beautiful, it was particular, and it was snooker.

Currently, Ding trails Mark Selby, the “Jester from Leicester” – a lucky escape, considering other rhyming nouns - in their best of 33 encounter. Given a champion poised to move from defending to dominant, the likelihood is that Ding will remain the best player never to win the game’s biggest prize for another year.

Meanwhile, the other semi-final pits Barry Hawkins, a finalist in 2013, against John Higgins, an undisputed great and three-time champion. Higgins looks likely to progress, and though whoever wins through will be an outsider, both are eminently capable of taking the title. Which is to say that, this weekend, Planet Earth has no entertainment more thrilling, challenging and enriching than events at the Crucible Theatre, Sheffield.

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