The Purple Book and the future of New Labour

Labour must guard against becoming a conservative force, stuck in the world of 1994 rather than 2011

In 1959, in the wake of Labour's third successive general election defeat, Hugh Gaitskell launched his bid to reform the old Clause IV of the party's constitution. Labour must adapt, he said, 'to be in touch always with ordinary people to avoid becoming small cliques of isolated, doctrine-ridden fanatics, out of touch, with the main stream of social life in our time'.

While Gaitskell's attempt to change Clause IV was unsuccessful, his speech captured well the essence of the party's revisionist tradition - that is, the belief that while values remain constant, the means to attain them must be kept constantly under review in the light of changes in society.

The notion that, as Gaitskell put it, the party should not, "wave the banners of a bygone age" was precisely the argument that Labour's revisionists of the 1980s and 1990s - Neil Kinnock, Tony Blair, and Gordon Brown - made to the party and which set it back on the road to electability.

Without revisionism, Labour might have ceased to exist, clinging to what Kinnock famously denounced in his 1986 conference speech as policies that are 'out-dated, misplaced, irrelevant to the real needs'.

The case for the continuing relevance of New Labour - with its insistence on the necessity of separating means from ends - hinges on its proponents' acceptance of this place within the revisionist tradition. As the shadow foreign secretary Douglas Alexander argues in the forthcoming issue of Progress magazine, New Labour was "composed of positions, personnel and policies". The personnel have changed and the policies for the 1990s are not going to be the solutions to the problems in the 2010s. But the positions - a determination to prioritise credibility on the economy, to stick to the centre-ground, and a willingness to take bold steps on issues like crime and antisocial behaviour - are ones we reject at great cost.

But New Labour, too, must itself guard against becoming a conservative force, stuck in the world of 1994 rather than 2011. Indeed, Labour's revisionists have made this error before.

Writing in the aftermath of Labour's fourth general election defeat in 1992, the historian David Marquand noted that, 'the values embodied in the ... social democratic middle way - a combination of personal freedom and social justice; of individual fulfilment and public purpose - are as compelling as they always were. But ... the instruments through which the revisionist social democrats of the 1960s and 1970s tried to realise their values broke in the hands of the governments which relied upon them.'

For many, this would be an apt description of New Labour's final years in government. And the solution that Marquand proposed nearly 20 years ago is as relevant today as it was then: 'If revisionist social democracy is to recover intellectually as well as politically, if it is to serve as a governing philosophy after an election as well as providing a platform from which to fight one, it must itself be revised.'

It is as a first contribution to what we hope will be a much-needed new chapter in the story of Labour's revisionist tradition that, alongside Biteback publishing, Progress today publishes The Purple Book.

The book rests on a belief that we need a 'revising of New Labour' and that this requires four things. First, a willingness, in the words of Ed Miliband, to escape the 'false choices' around Labour's electoral strategy. Second, an honest account of New Labour's period in office and its lessons. Third, a willingness to confront the division within the left on the role of the state. And, finally, the development of new policies - guided by the principle of redistributing power - to confront the new challenges facing Britain over the next decade. Crucially, these must be explicitly based on a recognition of the need to restore the public's shattered faith in the ability of the state and the market to widen opportunity, demand responsibility, and strengthen communities.

Comparisons have been made between The Purple Book and The Orange Book. Both attempt to revive a tradition from our respective parties' history that we believe has relevance for the future. But while The Orange Book attempted to revive economic liberalism, The Purple Book attempts no such thing - this has, after all, never been part a central part of Labour's story. We, instead, attempt to revive Labour's decentralising tradition of participation, self-government and "moral reform".

It is the tradition of those such as the Levellers and Thomas Paine who fought and argued for a widening of political rights; of the ethical socialism of RH Tawney and the guild socialism of GDH Cole; of the cooperative movement, Robert Owen, the Rochdale Pioneers and William Morris; of the self-organisation ethos by which the working class built the early trade union movement, the friendly societies and other institutions that reflected their belief in self-help; and the municipal "gas-and-water socialism" of the interwar years.

However diverse this tradition, there is a common thread running through it. Resting on the principles of participation and self-government, it challenges the approach that says that Labour's role should be to win elections, seize the commanding heights of the state and use power to redistribute resources from the few to the many.

Instead, the decentralist tradition requires the left to "create new centres of governance, power and wealth creation, as an alternative to both the centralised state and the private sector". This should be the guiding objective of a future Labour government, and the narrative with which the party describes its mission. The Purple Book begins to set out how.

Robert Philpot is the director of Progress.

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No, Jeremy Corbyn did not refuse to condemn the IRA. Please stop saying he did

Guys, seriously.

Okay, I’ll bite. Someone’s gotta say it, so really might as well be me:

No, Jeremy Corbyn did not, this weekend, refuse to condemn the IRA. And no, his choice of words was not just “and all other forms of racism” all over again.

Can’t wait to read my mentions after this one.

Let’s take the two contentions there in order. The claim that Corbyn refused to condem the IRA relates to his appearance on Sky’s Sophy Ridge on Sunday programme yesterday. (For those who haven’t had the pleasure, it’s a weekly political programme, hosted by Sophy Ridge and broadcast on a Sunday. Don’t say I never teach you anything.)

Here’s how Sky’s website reported that interview:

 

The first paragraph of that story reads:

Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn has been criticised after he refused five times to directly condemn the IRA in an interview with Sky News.

The funny thing is, though, that the third paragraph of that story is this:

He said: “I condemn all the bombing by both the loyalists and the IRA.”

Apparently Jeremy Corbyn has been so widely criticised for refusing to condemn the IRA that people didn’t notice the bit where he specifically said that he condemned the IRA.

Hasn’t he done this before, though? Corbyn’s inability to say he that opposed anti-semitism without appending “and all other forms of racism” was widely – and, to my mind, rightly – criticised. These were weasel words, people argued: an attempt to deflect from a narrow subject where the hard left has often been in the wrong, to a broader one where it wasn’t.

Well, that pissed me off too: an inability to say simply “I oppose anti-semitism” made it look like he did not really think anti-semitism was that big a problem, an impression not relieved by, well, take your pick.

But no, to my mind, this....

“I condemn all the bombing by both the loyalists and the IRA.”

...is, despite its obvious structural similarities, not the same thing.

That’s because the “all other forms of racism thing” is an attempt to distract by bringing in something un-related. It implies that you can’t possibly be soft on anti-semitism if you were tough on Islamophobia or apartheid, and experience shows that simply isn’t true.

But loyalist bombing were not unrelated to IRA ones: they’re very related indeed. There really were atrocities committed on both sides of the Troubles, and while the fatalities were not numerically balanced, neither were they orders of magnitude apart.

As a result, specifically condemning both sides as Corbyn did seems like an entirely reasonable position to take. Far creepier, indeed, is to minimise one set of atrocities to score political points about something else entirely.

The point I’m making here isn’t really about Corbyn at all. Historically, his position on Northern Ireland has been pro-Republican, rather than pro-peace, and I’d be lying if I said I was entirely comfortable with that.

No, the point I’m making is about the media, and its bias against Labour. Whatever he may have said in the past, whatever may be written on his heart, yesterday morning Jeremy Corbyn condemned IRA bombings. This was the correct thing to do. His words were nonetheless reported as “Jeremy Corbyn refuses to condemn IRA”.

I mean, I don’t generally hold with blaming the mainstream media for politicians’ failures, but it’s a bit rum isn’t it?

Jonn Elledge edits the New Statesman's sister site CityMetric, and writes for the NS about subjects including politics, history and Daniel Hannan. You can find him on Twitter or Facebook.

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