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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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