Brown's new world order

The Inside Track with Jonathan Freedland plus Kev

The Inside Track with Jonathan Freedland plus Kevin Maguire, Martin Bright, Peter Wilby plus Tara Hamilton-Miller

It's only an academic question, but it has suddenly acquired more force, now that he's about to become prime minister. Could Gordon Brown have stopped the Iraq war?

Say Brown had joined Robin Cook in resigning on principle in March 2003. Tony Blair would have had only two options: to quit or to back down to save his government. He would have had to phone George W Bush and tell him that British troops would not, after all, be joining the US military in Operation Iraqi Freedom. We know from all the insider accounts that Bush was determined not to go to war alone. Indeed, he was prepared to go to inordinate lengths to keep his British ally on board. The president could not allow his war to seem like an act of American caprice, rather than the action of the international community. Bush would have had to delay the invasion, thereby giving the UN arms inspectors more time - perhaps enough to discover that Saddam Hussein had no weapons of mass destruction after all. The chain of logic is clear. No Brown, no Britain. No Britain, no war.

Brown never did take that decisive step. He kept well out of what was the defining battle of the Blair years, declaring his view only during the 2005 general election campaign when asked point-blank if he would have handled Iraq the same way as Blair. "Yes," Brown said - and said no more.

From now on, enigmatic distance from key foreign policy issues will not be an option. Brown will have to lead and decide. There can be no delegation of international affairs, the way Blair delegated the economy to his Chancellor. Foreign policy is close to the essence of the prime minister's role. And, as predecessors from Churchill through Eden to Thatcher would surely testify, it's what can make or break you.

Brown will arrive at No 10 with only the sketchiest record in foreign affairs. That is partly thanks to the division of labour entailed by the Granita accord: Gordon got domestic, Tony got the rest of the world. If that was the bargain, Brown stuck to it faithfully, never once cutting across Blair's international turf. That's the charitable reading. Brown's critics have a harsher gloss. For them, his silence on Iraq was motivated by his Macavity-like habit, identified by the former mandarin Lord Turnbull, of vanishing at the first sign of trouble. Either way, Brown's experience in the diplomatic arena is thin. One über-Blairite warns that, when the first international crisis strikes, Brown is not going to know what has hit him. "If Iran invades southern Iraq, you can't commission Derek Wanless to do an 18-month review. You have to decide what to do now. Today."

And foreign policy is notoriously unpredictable. It is often barely a policy at all, less a predetermined strategy than a series of reactions to unforeseen events. After all, who knew in 1997 that Blair would emerge as a muscular neoconservative? Brown could end up surprising us just as much.

It is not only outsiders who are in the dark about his intentions. I asked one pro-Brown cabinet minister what his new boss planned to do internationally and received a candid reply: "I don't know." Incredibly, the man who will be prime minister next month has no full-time foreign policy adviser.

So we're left looking for clues, in his speeches and in his past record. One conclusion emerges straight away: when Brown looks for a way into an international problem, he heads for the door marked "Economics". The most obvious example is the Israel-Palestine conflict. In 2005, Brown deployed his trusted lieutenant Ed Balls, along with a Treasury official, Jon Cunliffe - whom some tip to move over to No 10 to advise on foreign affairs - to study, on behalf of the G8, prospects for "supporting the Middle East peace process through economic development". The idea was to replicate for Israelis and Palestinians what had worked so well in Northern Ireland: ensuring a flow of investment and jobs into a former war zone, giving the next generation a stake in peace. If today an 18-year-old Catholic lad in Belfast would rather get a job in some plush corporate HQ than become an IRA volunteer, why couldn't the same be true of young Palestinians of the future, choosing a career with an internet start-up over "martyrdom" with Hamas?

Something to lose

It's not just the Middle East conflict: ask Brown about Afghanistan, and his first answer is that the Afghans need an alternative crop to the poppy. He speaks about the need for investment in Iraq, too. Peace will hold, he believes, when people have something financial to lose. This economist's approach to foreign affairs might just be a function of Brown's CV: until now, economics was the only way he was allowed on to the world stage without treading on Blair's toes. But it goes deeper than that, revealing something of what Brown genuinely believes. There are flaws in the approach, to be sure. On Israel-Palestine, it's clear that investment will be vital after the two sides have signed a peace agreement. But the politics surely has to come first (just as investment in Ulster could come only after a meaningful ceasefire). To talk about industrial parks and apprenticeships now, while Hamas is firing rockets at Israel, Israel is shelling Gaza, and Fatah and Hamas are killing each other, risks looking idealistic, if not irrelevant.

There are other important pointers. Brown's championing of help for the developing world is well known, from his leading role in the campaign to cut debt to his invention of the International Finance Facility, designed to increase development aid with money from the bond markets. In both cases, Brown chivvied other governments to do their bit, even bringing a Republican US Treasury secretary, John Snow, on board for debt relief. That could be a precedent, a sign that coalition-building is not beyond him. It has also won him a strong reputation among NGOs and church groups.

What does this belief in development aid, typified by his tripling of the Department for International Development's budget, tell us about Brown? Admirers say it demonstrates his core belief that poverty is a scourge that governments have to tackle, at home and abroad. This, they say, is the legacy of his upbringing in the manse, the tangible evidence of his sotto voce brand of Christian socialism. Yet it would be a mistake to read Brown's belief in development as entirely abstract and ethical. Rather, it illuminates what might be a funda mentally different approach to the hard-headed, real-world questions thrown up by the "war on terror" - fundamentally different, that is, from the policy pursued by Blair.

If expressed in a soundbite, this would be "tough on terrorism, tough on the causes of terrorism". Brown is too canny to say anything that could be understood as justifying terrorist murder, but privately he argues that there are conditions in which violent extremism can flourish. These include states that break down through desperate poverty and disease.

Blair hangover

Of course, that doesn't explain the 19 hijackers of 9/11, most of them from comfortable Saudi backgrounds. But Brown is looking ahead to the failing states of Africa, worried that they could fall prey to al-Qaeda. In a speech in April to Labour Friends of Israel, he spoke at length about finding partners in Africa. His belief is that helping those countries - say, by funding education for those 120 million of the world's children who don't go to school - is both a moral good in itself and pragmatically smart, preventing jihadism winning more recruits. Brown talks often of the postwar Marshall Plan, which spent US money on European and other countries, in part to prevent them falling into the pro-Soviet column. He may well see aid to Africa the same way, with jihadism the new global menace to be defeated.

As for Iraq itself, a move is expected early, if only to draw a line under the hangover of the Blair era. The likeliest would be an accelerated troop withdrawal. But Brown would be wary of spinning that as a repudiation of Blair's war: after all, he knows that we know that he voted for it, and saw the raw anger for himself as an anti-war heckler was ejected from a hustings meeting he addressed on 20 May.

What's more, Brown still privately defends the decision to invade. He argues the case not on the grounds of weapons of mass destruction or Saddam being a vile dictator, but that Iraq's serial defiance of repeated UN resolutions could not go unpunished. Critics of the war will say that Saddam could hardly have been defying UN resolutions when, as we now know for sure, he had indeed disarmed.

Brown might want to couple any withdrawal from Iraq with another gesture, perhaps in the opposite direction. He might, for example, boost the British presence in Afghan istan, as if to allay any fears in Washington that Britain under him was going soft. But any desire to prove his hard power credentials is unlikely to include signing up for a military solution to one of the most pressing questions waiting for him in the Downing Street in-tray: Iran's apparent desire to acquire nuclear weapons. On 13 May, Brown said he did not anticipate any attack on Iran, because the process of multilateral engagement and negotiation is working. Indeed, he even spoke of a "new multilateralism", in which disputes will increasingly be settled through international institutions and dialogue. It may be too hopeful, but it suggests at least a different starting point from Blair, who sent British troops into combat five times in his first six years.

Then comes the crucial relationship, the one with the US. Of all Brown's diplomatic moves, this is the one that will be watched most intensely. There won't be the love-in that Blair struck up with Bush, if only because Brown knows how dearly that cost his predecessor, but it might be more complex than some hope. Brown is a known Americanophile - much more than was the French-speaking, Tuscany-visiting Blair. He reads American books and, famously, used to holiday annually in Cape Cod. His friendships range from Ted Kennedy to Alan Greenspan, the former head of the Federal Reserve. Brown will certainly be able to do business in Washington.

Aberrational fantasies

Brown also has the equipment to be more discerning than Blair ever was. Blair was powered by an undifferentiated belief that he had to be close to the White House, whoever was in it, whatever they did. Brown will be better able to distinguish enduring American interests from aberrational, neoconservative fantasies, siding with the US for the former and keeping his distance from the latter. He will be an enthusiastic, loyal ally of the US - but his support will not be unconditional. And if, once Bush goes in January 2009, the president is replaced by a Democrat, from the party with which Brown has good, personal links, so much the better.

On Europe, we have had several glimpses of the shape of things to come. Brown's impatience at finance ministers' meetings, and his derailment of British membership of the euro, suggest a sceptic. He loathes the Common Agricultural Policy, a piece of protectionism that cannot be defended in an era of global free trade. With the French and the Germans now talking of resuscitating the corpse of an EU constitution, reclothing it as a treaty, a collision seems likely. Brown would not want to rouse the ire of the Eurosceptic press by driving such a treaty through parliament; but nor could he risk submitting it to a referendum that he could lose. Expect some trademark footwork to get this booted into the long grass.

Where Brown would like to set a lead, rather than just react, is on the aid and trade agenda he has made his own (his only beef with the Make Poverty History campaign is that he thinks it should be pushing governments, including his, harder), and also on climate change. He wants to outman oeuvre the Tories on this territory not by matching David Cameron wind turbine for wind turbine, but by coming up with the kind of large-scale breakthrough that would make Cameron look like a lightweight. He speaks of plans for the reforestation of the Congo, of recasting the beleaguered World Bank as a new Environment Bank, of establishing a carbon market in London. This is the level he wants to operate on; he'll leave the organic broccoli to Cameron.

These, then, are the instincts that should steer Gordon Brown when he enters the international arena as leader of what is still one of the world's most powerful nations. How much will they determine what he does in office? The lesson of recent history is that they may be no guide at all. As Tony Blair discovered one September morning in 2001, everything can change when a single event comes out of a clear blue sky.

Jonathan Freedland writes for the Guardian

This article first appeared in the 28 May 2007 issue of the New Statesman, Gaza: The jailed state

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Why Jeremy Corbyn is a new leader for the New Times

In an inspired election campaign, he confounded his detractors and showed that he was – more than any other leader – in tune with the times.

There have been two great political turning points in postwar Britain. The first was in 1945 with the election of the Attlee government. Driven by a popular wave of determination that peacetime Britain would look very different from the mass unemployment of the 1930s, and built on the foundations of the solidaristic spirit of the war, the Labour government ushered in full employment, the welfare state (including the NHS) and nationalisation of the basic industries, notably coal and the railways. It was a reforming government the like of which Britain had not previously experienced in the first half of the 20th century. The popular support enjoyed by the reforms was such that the ensuing social-democratic consensus was to last until the end of the 1970s, with Tory as well as Labour governments broadly operating within its framework.

During the 1970s, however, opposition to the social-democratic consensus grew steadily, led by the rise of the radical right, which culminated in 1979 in the election of Margaret Thatcher’s first government. In the process, the Thatcherites redefined the political debate, broadening it beyond the rather institutionalised and truncated forms that it had previously taken: they conducted a highly populist campaign that was for individualism and against collectivism; for the market and against the state; for liberty and against trade unionism; for law and order and against crime.

These ideas were dismissed by the left as just an extreme version of the same old Toryism, entirely failing to recognise their novelty and therefore the kind of threat they posed. The 1979 election, followed by Ronald Reagan’s US victory in 1980, began the neoliberal era, which remained hegemonic in Britain, and more widely in the West, for three decades. Tory and Labour governments alike operated within the terms and by the logic of neoliberalism. The only thing new about New Labour was its acquiescence in neoliberalism; even in this sense, it was not new but derivative of Thatcherism.

The financial crisis of 2007-2008 marked the beginning of the end of neoliberalism. Unlike the social-democratic consensus, which was undermined by the ideological challenge posed by Thatcherism, neoliberalism was brought to its knees not by any ideological alternative – such was the hegemonic sway of neoliberalism – but by the biggest financial crisis since 1931. This was the consequence of the fragility of a financial sector left to its own devices as a result of sweeping deregulation, and the corrupt and extreme practices that this encouraged.

The origin of the crisis lay not in the Labour government – complicit though it was in the neoliberal indulgence of the financial sector – but in the deregulation of the banking sector on both sides of the Atlantic in the 1980s. Neoliberalism limped on in the period after 2007-2008 but as real wages stagnated, recovery proved a mirage, and, with the behaviour of the bankers exposed, a deep disillusionment spread across society. During 2015-16, a populist wave of opposition to the establishment engulfed much of Europe and the United States.

Except at the extremes – Greece perhaps being the most notable example – the left was not a beneficiary: on the contrary it, too, was punished by the people in the same manner as the parties of the mainstream right were. The reason was straightforward enough. The left was tarnished with the same brush as the right: almost everywhere social-democratic parties, albeit to varying degrees, had pursued neoliberal policies. Bill Clinton and Tony Blair became – and presented themselves as – leaders of neoliberalism and as enthusiastic advocates of a strategy of hyper-globalisation, which resulted in growing inequality. In this fundamental respect these parties were more or less ­indistinguishable from the right.

***

The first signs of open revolt against New Labour – the representatives and evangelists of neoliberal ideas in the Labour Party – came in the aftermath of the 2015 ­election and the entirely unpredicted and overwhelming victory of Jeremy Corbyn in the leadership election. Something was happening. Yet much of the left, along with the media, summarily dismissed it as a revival of far-left entryism; that these were for the most part no more than a bunch of Trots. There is a powerful, often overwhelming, tendency to see new phenomena in terms of the past. The new and unfamiliar is much more difficult to understand than the old and familiar: it requires serious intellectual effort and an open and inquiring mind. The left is not alone in this syndrome. The right condemned the 2017 Labour Party manifesto as a replica of Labour’s 1983 manifesto. They couldn’t have been more wrong.

That Corbyn had been a veteran of the far left for so long lent credence to the idea that he was merely a retread of a failed past: there was nothing new about him. In a brilliant election campaign, Corbyn not only gave the lie to this but also demonstrated that he, far more than any of the other party leaders, was in tune with the times, the candidate of modernity.

Crises, great turning points, new conjunctures, new forms of consciousness are by definition incubators of the new. That is one of the great sources of their fascination. We can now see the line of linkage between the thousands of young people who gave Corbyn his overwhelming victory in the leadership election in 2015 and the millions of young people who were enthused by his general election campaign in 2017. It is no accident that it was the young rather than the middle-aged or the seniors who were in the vanguard: the young are the bearers and products of the new, they are the lightning conductors of change. Their elders, by contrast, are steeped in old ways of thinking and doing, having lived through and internalised the values and norms of neoliberalism for more than 30 years.

Yet there is another, rather more important aspect to how we identify the new, namely the way we see politics and how politics is conceived. Electoral politics is a highly institutionalised and tribal activity. There have been, as I argued earlier, two great turning points in postwar politics: the social-democratic era ushered in by the 1945 Labour government and the neoliberal era launched by the Tory government in 1979.

The average Tory MP or activist, no doubt, would interpret history primarily in terms of Tory and Labour governments; Labour MPs and activists would do similarly. But this is a superficial reading of politics based on party labels which ignores the deeper forces that shape different eras, generate crises and result in new paradigms.

Alas, most political journalists and columnists are afflicted with the same inability to distinguish the wood (an understanding of the deeper historical forces at work) from the trees (the day-to-day manoeuvring of parties and politicians). In normal times, this may not be so important, because life continues for the most part as before, but at moments of great paradigmatic change it is absolutely critical.

If the political journalists, and indeed the PLP, had understood the deeper forces and profound changes now at work, they would never have failed en masse to rise above the banal and predictable in their assessment of Corbyn. Something deep, indeed, is happening. A historical era – namely, that of neoliberalism – is in its death throes. All the old assumptions can no longer be assumed. We are in new territory: we haven’t been here before. The smart suits long preferred by New Labour wannabes are no longer a symbol of success and ambition but of alienation from, and rejection of, those who have been left behind; who, from being ignored and dismissed, are in the process of moving to the centre of the political stage.

Corbyn, you may recall, was instantly rejected and ridiculed for his sartorial style, and yet we can now see that, with a little smartening, it conveys an authenticity and affinity with the times that made his style of dress more or less immune from criticism during the general election campaign. Yet fashion is only a way to illustrate a much deeper point.

The end of neoliberalism, once so hegemonic, so commanding, is turning Britain on its head. That is why – extraordinary when you think about it – all the attempts by the right to dismiss Corbyn as a far-left extremist failed miserably, even proved counterproductive, because that was not how people saw him, not how they heard him. He was speaking a language and voicing concerns that a broad cross-section of the public could understand and identify with.

***

The reason a large majority of the PLP was opposed to Corbyn, desperate to be rid of him, was because they were still living in the neoliberal era, still slaves to its ideology, still in thrall to its logic. They knew no other way of thinking or political being. They accused Corbyn of being out of time when in fact it was most of the PLP – not to mention the likes of Mandelson and Blair – who were still imprisoned in an earlier historical era. The end of neoliberalism marks the death of New Labour. In contrast, Corbyn is aligned with the world as it is rather than as it was. What a wonderful irony.

Corbyn’s success in the general election requires us to revisit some of the assumptions that have underpinned much political commentary over the past several years. The turmoil in Labour ranks and the ridiculing of Corbyn persuaded many, including on the left, that Labour stood on the edge of the abyss and that the Tories would continue to dominate for long into the future. With Corbyn having seized the political initiative, the Tories are now cast in a new light. With Labour in the process of burying its New Labour legacy and addressing a very new conjuncture, then the end of neoliberalism poses a much more serious challenge to the Tories than it does the Labour Party.

The Cameron/Osborne leadership was still very much of a neoliberal frame of mind, not least in their emphasis on austerity. It would appear that, in the light of the new popular mood, the government will now be forced to abandon austerity. Theresa May, on taking office, talked about a return to One Nation Toryism and the need to help the worst-off, but that has never moved beyond rhetoric: now she is dead in the water.

Meanwhile, the Tories are in fast retreat over Brexit. They held a referendum over the EU for narrowly party reasons which, from a national point of view, was entirely unnecessary. As a result of the Brexit vote, the Cameron leadership was forced to resign and the Brexiteers took de facto command. But now, after the election, the Tories are in headlong retreat from anything like a “hard Brexit”. In short, they have utterly lost control of the political agenda and are being driven by events. Above all, they are frightened of another election from which Corbyn is likely to emerge as leader with a political agenda that will owe nothing to neoliberalism.

Apart from Corbyn’s extraordinary emergence as a leader who understands – and is entirely comfortable with – the imperatives of the new conjuncture and the need for a new political paradigm, the key to Labour’s transformed position in the eyes of the public was its 2017 manifesto, arguably its best and most important since 1945. You may recall that for three decades the dominant themes were marketisation, privatisation, trickle-down economics, the wastefulness and inefficiencies of the state, the incontrovertible case for hyper-globalisation, and bankers and financiers as the New Gods.

Labour’s manifesto offered a very different vision: a fairer society, bearing down on inequality, a more redistributive tax system, the centrality of the social, proper funding of public services, nationalisation of the railways and water industry, and people as the priority rather than business and the City. The title captured the spirit – For the Many Not the Few. Or, to put in another way, After Neoliberalism. The vision is not yet the answer to the latter question, but it represents the beginnings of an answer.

Ever since the late 1970s, Labour has been on the defensive, struggling to deal with a world where the right has been hegemonic. We can now begin to glimpse a different possibility, one in which the left can begin to take ownership – at least in some degree – of a new, post-neoliberal political settlement. But we should not underestimate the enormous problems that lie in wait. The relative economic prospects for the country are far worse than they have been at any time since 1945. As we saw in the Brexit vote, the forces of conservatism, nativism, racism and imperial nostalgia remain hugely powerful. Not only has the country rejected continued membership of the European Union, but, along with the rest of the West, it is far from reconciled with the new world that is in the process of being created before our very eyes, in which the developing world will be paramount and in which China will be the global leader.

Nonetheless, to be able to entertain a sense of optimism about our own country is a novel experience after 30 years of being out in the cold. No wonder so many are feeling energised again.

This article first appeared in the 15 June 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Corbyn: revenge of the rebel

Martin Jacques is the former editor of Marxism Today. 

This article first appeared in the 15 June 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Corbyn: revenge of the rebel

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