Labour's challenge to Osborne's attack on the poor could be a turning point

If Labour perseveres, it might change the terms of debate on a fundamental issue.

This week could mark a turning point for Labour and everyone who wants to live in a better society. On a crucial political framing issue, the leader of the Labour Party refused to follow the right to the right. The issue was benefit cuts and if an admittedly long but tactically and clever game is played we might change the terms of debate on a fundamental issue.

Let's start where we always should: with what we believe. I believe this. That no one was born wanting to live their lives on a couch avoiding not just work but the opportunity to make the most of their life – to be a fully rounded citizen and able to make the most of all their talents.  We are born equal – that is with an equal right to make the most of the wonderfully different talents and attributes we have. Some of course got lucky in terms of looks, brains, body or family wealth. But that notion of fundamental equality requires society to intervene to equal out as many life chances as possible.

So when I look into the eyes of another – whether it’s a rich banker or a person in receipt of benefits payments – I don’t really see a ‘greedy pig’ or a ‘skiver’ but a fellow human being.  From that basis a different debate is possible – one that aspires to a much more ambitious sense of the good life and a good society.

We can confine the debate to in-work benefits. We can compare the rich to the poor. We can talk about the lack of jobs. We can compare tax avoidance to benefit fraud. We can point to who the real scroungers are, as Compass, the organisation I chair, did this week. We can ask why highly profitable companies aren’t paying a living wage to the people their profits rely on. All of these things can help. But it won't change the underlying terms of debate. The only thing that will is a different and more humane view of each other and the massive inequalities in income, wealth and power which shape our life chances.

The opinion polls are, of course, in a different place. In harsh economic times people can become harsher in their attitudes.  This is equally the case when they are egged on by George Osborne trying to set the in-work poor against the out-of-work poor as he did in his Autumn Statement.

Some in Labour’s ranks worry about the electoral consequences of the more nuanced approach taken by Ed Miliband and Ed Balls. Some fear that it's better to lose the argument but win the election so that at least some assistance can be given to the poor – no matter how little and at a high price  of continually  conceding critical ground. It is an understandable strategy at a rather minimalist level but it eventually and inevitably ends up destroying itself. Over time, there is no point in the Labour Party merely doing the work of the Tories but just at a slightly slower pace. The party will then just hollow out as it forgets what its mission is. And lest we forget, what Labour leaders say and do matters. The British Social Attitudes Survey shows clearly what happens when they stop saying inequality matters – the public no longer think inequality matters and support for social security plummets.

That doesn’t mean we don’t have to take great care with this debate. This is not a new war that can be won in one response to one pre-budget statement. The old war was lost over decades as the rich were heralded for their riches and the poor were blamed for their poverty. We are going to have to finesse our arguments and persevere on this for some time using all sorts of new language, frames and policies. And we are going to have to strike up unlikely alliances – not least with those on the right who still believe in a "one nation" and compassionate conservatism. It may be paternalistic but it at least understands the responsibility of the rich to the poor.

Neither can we leave the debate to those at the top.  Like every other big culture change – like attitudes to race and sexuality – this is a war we have to engage in everyday in our own lives.  What we say and do matters.  We can confront prejudice and fear in the workplace, pub and street. We have to be the change we wish to see in the world.

No one really wants to spend his or her life doing little that is productive. We are only fully human when we are creative. That doesn’t have to be paid work; it can be running a family or running the local community. The economy cannot function without either of those tasks being performed. Some have such serious mental and health problems that society has to support them and we should be proud that we can. Other needs intensive help to rebuild their confidence and ability to live a more fulfilling life. We should give them that help.

This week a line was drawn in the sand. It’s not yet in the right place – but it’s a good start. From here we can and must fight back. The other side win only when we stop fighting – if we don’t stop fighting we cannot lose. 

On a crucial political issue, Ed Miliband refused to follow the right to the right. Photograph: Getty Images.

Neal Lawson is chair of the pressure group Compass and author of the book All Consuming.

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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