The battle for control of Labour's election machine

As big a question for Ed Miliband as the matter of who delivers Labour’s economic message is the question of who will run the party’s general election campaign.

The Labour Party is undoubtedly more united now than it has been for at least a generation. That is setting the bar fairly low, since its more recent session in government was characterised by a bitter feud between the Prime Minister and the Chancellor and their respective entourages. And Labour’s last stint in opposition only ended once vicious, factional warfare had been quelled.

Veterans declare that the Blair-Brown civil strife was not a patch on the civil wars of the Eighties and that any current tensions around the shadow cabinet are but a dim echo or mild aftershock from the TB/GB era.

That doesn’t stop the media feeling around for cracks to prise open, nor does it stop mischief makers inside and outside the party drawing attention to any fissures that might appear in the otherwise uniform veneer of message discipline. A rich but irregular supply of Kremlinological data is furnished by David Miliband’s periodic interventions.

Whenever the brother who might have been leader says anything in the House of Commons there is a flurry of speculation about his return to the front line of Labour politics. Most of it is unwelcome in the former foreign secretary's office. What he most wants is to be able contribute without it reviving pop-psychoanalytical chatter about his relationship with his brother and without the media gleefully readying itself for a re-enactment of old Blair-Brown-style strife.

Except the only way to get beyond that kind of chatter is for David’s participation to become a normal, regular part of the official Labour offer to the public. It is a good old-fashioned Catch 22: he can’t join the front line because of the psychodrama, and he can’t get out of the psychodrama without rejoining the front line.

The latest round of speculation began with a peculiar piece in the Times (£) on Monday, suggesting that anonymous senior Labour people want David back and are urging him to decide one way or another. The newspaper gave the story deliberate momentum with a leader, echoing that line.

There has been another spike in chatter levels following David’s speech in Tuesday’s welfare debate. The Guardian’s Nick Watt has blogged an arcane hermeneutic reading of the speech to explain what, in the Westminster imagination, David was really trying to say. In an interview in the Mirror yesterday, Ed was asked about his brother and replies that they are now friends. He was also asked to confirm that Ed Balls will hold the shadow treasury brief until the election and declined to do so. Thus the speculative story is embellished and sustained.

The obvious reason Ed Miliband might want his brother back on the front line is to act as a counter-weight to Balls, the shadow cabinet’s most heavyweight figure and the man many in the parliamentary party believe is putting voters off listening to Labour’s economic message.

There was a rash of anti-Balls briefing towards the end of last summer. That came to a stop at Labour’s annual conference, where the shadow chancellor went out of his way to sound collegiate and loyal to the leader’s official line. Both Eds know any hint of a serious rift between them would quickly swallow both of their ambitions. (As I wrote here.) Their relationship is sustained by residual esprit de corps as veterans of Gordon Brown’s entourage and, more substantially, by the old Cold War doctrine of Mutually Assured Destruction.

That doesn’t stop other Labour people agitating for a change of personnel. To some extent, those MPs and scarred Blairite veterans who were toasting David as a king-over-the-water in the early years of Ed’s leadership, when it all looked a bit shaky, have simply amended their toast to shadow-chancellor-over-the-water.

There isn’t any evidence that Ed Miliband plans to satisfy that appetite. At the same time, he cannot ignore the possibility that Balls – indelibly associated in many minds with Gordon Brown’s legacy – is a drag on Labour’s poll rating and an obstacle to the leader’s aspiration to represent renewal and definitive break from the past. Balls, meanwhile, has let it be known that he would rather retire from the front line altogether than take a more junior shadow cabinet role. Miliband hardly wants to contemplate what potential devilry could busy the hands of Balls if they fell idle on the back benches.

The discussion of whether Miliband should hang on to Balls usually focuses on the economic debate. On the one hand, the shadow chancellor’s prediction of a double-dip recession was vindicated; on the other hand, the voters don’t seem to care. But maybe, with a triple dip, they will ... but what if growth returns? And so on and so on, round and round the argument goes. But there is another factor in play.

Balls has historically commanded the loyalty of powerful players within the Labour Party. He has, by reputation, been assiduous in building a discreet internal power base: a party-within-the-party. As is often the case in politics, this apparatus has acquired mythic proportions in excess of its actual clout.

A lot of day-to-day rebuttal and attack politics on the Labour side is in the hands of Tom Watson, the party’s official campaign coordinator, and his deputy Michael Dugher. They are often presumed to be Balls acolytes, a loyalty legacy from the old Brownite clan. The capacity to call on an internal patronage network within the party has traditionally been seen as one of the shadow chancellor’s great advantages - and something that ultimately makes him indispensible to Miliband.

As one party adviser puts it: “Ed Miliband didn’t have a machine when he became leader and he needed one.” Balls’s machine might not have been the most sophisticated, high-tech Nimbus 2000 of 21st Century political combat. It was nonetheless famously effective.

But the Balls-Watson relationship, I’m told, has soured very dramatically since the shadow chancellor started writing for and courting support from the Sun and the Sun on Sunday, newspapers controlled by Rupert Murdoch. Watson styles himself as Murdoch’s nemesis and his standing in the party has grown in proportion to the ferocity of his battle with News Corp. In that key respect, he has greater loyalty to Miliband, whose political stock is just as heavily invested in the moral crusade against Murdochism and all its nefarious ways.

Increasingly, I hear Labour people question whether the famous Balls machine is the force it once was. (Which probably explains why there is a bit more chatter directed against him, since fear of reprisal would once have kept criticism more muted.) None of this detracts from the essential fact that Balls remains one of the Labour party’s most experienced, intelligent and astute political operators. No-one disputes his formidable and acute grasp of economics and his capacity in politics, as one shadow cabinet colleague puts it, “to always see two moves ahead.” Aside from all the mythology, gossip and neurotic navel-gazing lower down the ranks, the shadow chancellor is someone who must be taken seriously and whose removal from the shadow Treasury portfolio could certainly not be undertaken lightly. That is why Ed Miliband appears not to be in any kind of hurry to do it and very probably won’t do it at all.

But as big a question for Ed Miliband as the matter of who delivers Labour’s economic message is the question of who will run the party’s general election campaign; who will craft the strategy, shape the message and ensure it is delivered in the right way? At the moment, the default would be the Watson-Dugher team. There are plenty of people in the party who think they might not be the ideal candidates. “It would just be ‘Tory tax cuts for millionaires’ on a loop”, says one sceptical party insider.

There is a growing clamour for Miliband to name a high-profile figure who will take strategic control of party’s offer to the country. Ideally, it would be someone of sufficient stature that the appointment would send a frisson of anxiety through the Conservative ranks. Do not be surprised if David Miliband's name soon starts floating around in discussions of this hypothetical vacancy.

The Tories have George Osborne fulfilling the strategic function and have recently put Lynton Crosby in charge at a more operational level. Opinion in Westminster is divided as to whether Crosby is a campaigning mastermind or a massive liability to Downing Street. Even the Tories themselves aren’t sure. But no one doubts that his main skill is in getting people focused and organised. He is a notorious bringer of discipline. (He helped secure Boris Johnson’s mayoral victories partly just by making sure his candidate took the whole process seriously enough and turned up to work on time.)

The Tories are starting to get properly organised for the battle of 2015. Labour needs to get its own machine tuned and oiled for combat. But whose machine will it be?

Labour Party deputy chair and campaign coordinator Tom Watson. Photograph: Getty Images.

Rafael Behr is political columnist at the Guardian and former political editor of the New Statesman

Photo: Getty
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Why Chris Grayling is Jeremy Corbyn's secret weapon

The housing crisis is Labour's best asset - and Chris Grayling is making it worse. 

It feels like the classic Conservative story: wait until the election is over, then cancel spending in areas that have the temerity to vote Labour. The electrification of rail routes from Cardiff to Swansea – scrapped. So too is the electrification of the Leeds to Manchester route – and of the Midland main line.

But Crossrail 2, which runs from north to south across London and deep into the capital's outer satellites, including that of Transport Secretary Chris Grayling, will go ahead as planned.

It would be grim but effective politics if the Conservatives were pouring money into the seats they won or lost narrowly. There are 25 seats that the Conservatives can take with a swing of 1 per cent from Labour to Tory, and 30 seats that they would lose with a swing of 1 per cent from Tory to Labour.

It wouldn’t be at all surprising if the Conservatives were making spending decisions with an eye on what you might call the frontline 55. But what they’re actually doing is taking money away from north-west marginal constituencies – and lavishing cash on increasingly Labour London. In doing that, they’re actually making their electoral headache worse.

How so? As I’ve written before, the biggest problem for the Conservatives in the long term is simply that not enough people are getting on the housing ladder. That is hurting them in two ways. The first is straightforward: economically-driven voters are not turning blue when they turn 30 because they are not either on or about to mount the first rungs of the housing ladder. More than half of 30-year-olds were mortgage-payers in 1992, when John Major won an unexpected Conservative majority, while under a third were in 2017, when Theresa May unexpectedly lost hers.

But it is also hurting them because culturally-driven voters are getting on the housing ladder, but by moving out of areas where Labour’s socially-concerned core vote congregates in great numbers, and into formerly safe or at least marginal Conservative seats. That effect has reached what might be its final, and for the Conservatives, deadly form in Brighton. All three of the Brighton constituencies – Hove, Brighton Kemptown and Brighton Pavilion – were Conservative-held in 1992. Now none of them are. In Pavilion they are third, and the smallest majority they have to overcome is 9,868, in Kemptown. The same effect helped reduce Amber Rudd’s majority in Hastings, also in East Sussex, to 346.

The bad news for the Conservatives is that the constituencies of Crawley, Reading, Swindon and in the longer-term, Bracknell, all look like Brightons in the making: although only Reading East fell to Labour this time, all saw swings bigger than the national average and all are seeing increasing migration by culturally-driven left-wing voters away from safe Labour seats. All are seeing what you might call “Hackneyfication”: commuters moving from inner city seats but taking their politics with them.

Add to that forced migration from inner London to seats like Iain Duncan Smith’s in Chingford – once a Conservative fortress, now a razor-thin marginal – and even before you add in the appeal of Jeremy Corbyn’s person and platform, the electoral picture for the Conservatives looks bleak.

(It should go without saying that voters are driven by both economics and culture. The binary I’ve used here is simplistic but helpful to understand the growing demographic pressures on the Conservatives.)

There is actually a solution here for the Tories. It’s both to build more housing but also to rebalance the British economy, because the housing crisis in London and the south is driven by the jobs and connectivity crisis in the rest of the United Kingdom.

Or, instead, they could have a number of measures designed to make London’s economy stride still further ahead of the rest, serviced by 5 per cent mortgages and growing numbers of commuter rail services to facilitate a growing volume of consumers from London’s satellite towns, all of which only increase the electoral pressures on their party. 

Stephen Bush is special correspondent at the New Statesman. His daily briefing, Morning Call, provides a quick and essential guide to domestic and global politics.