Labour must not be defined by opposition to the cuts

Miliband is right to ignore the 'stand and fight brigade' and shift his economic stance.

The clamour for a change in Labour's economic stance that began with In The Black Labour is now growing daily. Ed Miliband's speech today signalled that the change is underway. Many in and around the party will be cautiously relieved. Many others, however, will be deeply disappointed.

Commentators such as Mehdi Hasan and Polly Toynbee have demanded in recent days that Ed ignores the demands for a more clearly hawkish line. Instead, they urge, he should stand and fight for what he and they know is right and morally sound. Good economics makes good politics and, sooner or later, the electorate will realise that Labour was correct all along. They undoubtedly represent a very strong seam of belief within the party and wider movement.

But there are big problems with this 'stand and fight because we're right' position.

In the first place, it assumes parties win elections because they have a correct analysis and the soundest values. This would imply that the Conservative Party had the best policies for the eighteen years prior to 1997. A view to which Mehdi and Polly, I assume, do not subscribe.

It also overlooks the fact that every party and their supporters believes they are correct. We may caricature Tories or Lib Dems as ignorant or self-serving rather than sincere in their views but they think exactly the same about Labour. This reveals a fundamental truth about politics which is that the great majority of people just think they are right. Rational, evidence-based debate has only a limited impact, in part because it is very rarely conclusive. Assuming that the inherent rationalism and morality of our particular version of 'rightness' will win out is to flirt with a profound naiveté.

Indeed Labour's economic case is not nearly as self-evidently right as the 'stand and fight' brigade think it is. Yes, there is a good case to be made for a slower pace of deficit reduction or even a small stimulus as enshrined in Labour's five point plan. Wise men such as Martin Wolf, who hold no brief for Labour, have made the case many times. But arguing that a slower path to deficit reduction would be a wise policy is not the same as saying that our economic prayers would be answered by such a move. Inflation has been too high, productivity too low, investment too stagnant, global economic and political volatility too great for a small shift in fiscal policy to really blow away the storm clouds. In truth, Mehdi and Polly want to stand and fight, tooth and nail for something that would do some measure of good but probably not a great deal more than that.

What actually despatches governments is events not the right arguments. Most voters live their lives and ignore the detailed debates that occupy the political classes. It is usually only when something so big and bad happens that it cannot be ignored that voters think seriously about replacing the current lot with that other lot. That was the case with the Winter of Discontent before the 1979 election, the ERM crisis before the 1997 election and the banking crash before the 2010 election. A party in opposition has to rebuild its lost credibility in preparation for that moment. This is vital because, as the 1990 recession showed, a big event will not necessarily play for an opposition if they are not yet trusted to take over the reins of government. In short, a new opposition party needs honestly and painfully to understand why it lost the election and forensically address those failings not exclusively kick lumps out of the new government. Anyone who thinks this can be done without making an almighty effort to regain Labour's reputation for fiscal prudence and economic competence is buried far too snugly in their comfort zone.

Many will read this post and think it is simply arguing for Labour to roll over, adopt a Tory-lite position and hang patiently around until the voters get fed up with Cameron. That would be a misinterpretation. Opposition parties must stand and fight but they must make sure they have a chance of winning. Don't leap into the ring and start throwing punches if the referee (the media) and the ringside judges (the voters) have already decided you're a loser.

So support a slower pace of deficit reduction but don't make it the defining feature of the fight with the coalition. Instead use what few opportunities we have to persuade the ref and the judges that we're not quite as useless as they think we are. That must mean emphasising our commitment to tough-minded, fiscal practice, first and foremost.

Once that is established Labour might begin to get listened to on its wider message and where it might start landing blows on the government. Then it is time to start drawing the distinctions. Emphasise Labour's bolder policy for jobs and growth by using the power of the state to actively restore the competitiveness of British business rather than Osborne's reheated and chaotic Lawsonism. And, yes, talk about a vision for a fairer, more responsible capitalism but make it clear this is a vision for fairness within the context of austerity - a new type of social democracy for very different and difficult times.

Fortunately, this seems to be precisely the thinking behind Ed's speech this morning. There is much, much more to be done but, despite what the 'stand and fight' brigade might now say, the genuine fight-back may just have begun.

Adam Lent is co-author of In the Black Labour and formerly Head of Economics at the TUC. He can be followed on Twitter: @adamjlent.

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Andy Burnham and Sadiq Khan are both slippery self-mythologisers – so why do we rate one more than the other?

Their obsessions with their childhoods have both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

Andy Burnham is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s widely seen as an unprincipled flip-flopper.

Sadiq Khan is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s the hugely popular mayor of London, the voice of those who’d be proud to think of themselves as the metropolitan liberal elite, and is even talked of as a possible future leader of the Labour party.

Oh, and also they were both born in 1970. So that’s a thing they have in common, too.

Why it is this approach to politics should have worked so much better for the mayor of London than the would-be mayor of Manchester is something I’ve been trying to work out for a while. There are definite parallels between Burnham’s attempts to present himself as a normal northern bloke who likes normal things like football, and Sadiq’s endless reminders that he’s a sarf London geezer whose dad drove a bus. They’ve both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

And yes, Burnham apparent tendency to switch sides, on everything from NHS privatisation to the 2015 welfare vote to the leadership of Jeremy Corbyn, has given him a reputation for slipperiness. But Sadiq’s core campaign pledge was to freeze London transport fares; everyone said it was nonsense, and true to form it was, and you’d be hard pressed to find an observer who thought this an atypical lapse on the mayor’s part. (Khan, too, has switched sides on the matter of Jeremy Corbyn.)

 And yet, he seems to get away with this, in a way that Burnham doesn’t. His low-level duplicity is factored in, and it’s hard to judge him for it because, well, it’s just what he’s like, isn’t it? For a long time, the Tory leadership’s line on London’s last mayor was “Boris is Boris”, meaning, look, we don’t trust him either, but what you gonna do? Well: Sadiq is Sadiq.

Even the names we refer to them by suggest that one of these two guys is viewed very differently from the other. I’ve instinctively slipped into referring to the mayor of London by his first name: he’s always Sadiq, not Khan, just as his predecessors were Boris and Ken. But, despite Eoin Clarke’s brief attempt to promote his 2015 leadership campaign with a twitter feed called “Labour Andy”, Burnham is still Burnham: formal, not familiar. 

I’ve a few theories to explain all this, though I’ve no idea which is correct. For a while I’ve assumed it’s about sincerity. When Sadiq Khan mentions his dad’s bus for the 257th time in a day, he does it with a wink to the audience, making a crack about the fact he won’t stop going on about it. That way, the message gets through to the punters at home who are only half listening, but the bored lobby hacks who’ve heard this routine two dozen times before feel they’re in the joke.

Burnham, it seems to me, lacks this lightness of touch: when he won’t stop banging on about the fact he grew up in the north, it feels uncomfortably like he means it. And to take yourself seriously in politics is sometimes to invite others to make jokes at your expense.

Then again, perhaps the problem is that Burnham isn’t quite sincere enough. Sadiq Khan genuinely is the son of a bus-driving immigrant: he may keep going on about it, but it is at least true. Burnham’s “just a northern lad” narrative is true, too, but excludes some crucial facts: that he went to Cambridge, and was working in Parliament aged 24. Perhaps that shouldn’t change how we interpret his story; but I fear, nonetheless, it does.

Maybe that’s not it, though: maybe I’m just another London media snob. Because Burnham did grow up at the disadvantaged end of the country, a region where, for too many people, chasing opportunities means leaving. The idea London is a city where the son of a bus driver can become mayor flatters our metropolitan self-image; the idea that a northerner who wants to build a career in politics has to head south at the earliest opportunity does the opposite. 

So if we roll our eyes when Burnham talks about the north, perhaps that reflects badly on us, not him: the opposite of northern chippiness is southern snobbery.

There’s one last possibility for why we may rate Sadiq Khan more highly than Andy Burnham: Sadiq Khan won. We can titter a little at the jokes and the fibs but he is, nonetheless, mayor of London. Andy Burnham is just the bloke who lost two Labour leadership campaigns.

At least – for now. In six weeks time, he’s highly likely to the first mayor of Greater Manchester. Slipperiness is not the worst quality in a mayor; and so much of the job will be about banging the drum for the city, and the region, that Burnham’s tendency to wear his northernness on his sleeve will be a positive boon.

Sadiq Khan’s stature has grown because the fact he became London’s mayor seems to say something, about the kind of city London is and the kind we want it to be. Perhaps, after May, Andy Burnham can do the same for the north – and the north can do the same for Andy Burnham.

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.