Labour councils are the light at the end of this long, dark economic tunnel

The party's councils are filling the vacuum left by government inaction.

Councils up and down the land are facing their greatest financial crisis for generations. The coalition cuts are brutal and local communities and services are suffering enormously as a consequence. The poorest areas are being hit the hardest and the most vulnerable are suffering the most - such is Tory-led Britain.

As in any storm, councils can stay still and be swept away or get stuck in and survive. Those who innovate will go from strength to strength, while those who counsel despair will sink into a slough of despondency and take their communities with them.

And Labour councils are finding new ways to express and act on their values: fairness, mutual support and social justice.  A new report – One Nation Localism – shows exactly how. Innovating and taking action where they can, they are helping people in real ways despite these tough times. In a sense, this provides hope that an Ed Miliband-led "one nation" government will be able to pursue social justice even though the economic and fiscal climate left behind by a failed Tory and Liberal Democrat administration will be ferocious. It also shows that social justice relies on local innovation and action.

Local government funding is already being cut by a third and austerity is set to continue until at least 2018. In the pervading doom and gloom, it feels hard to be optimistic – where will the good news come from? And how can Labour present an alternative approach that shows you can deliver on your values even when money is tight?
  
There is no greater challenge than creating jobs and opportunity, as government inaction leaves an enormous vacuum – which Labour councils are filling. Just take Newham council’s new workplace scheme which has helped 5,000 people into work last year- many of them long-term unemployed. After the government disbanded Labour’s Future Jobs Fund, Nottingham council established their own to support young people in the city into employment. In areas as far and wide as Knowsley, Darlington and Plymouth the councils are working with local businesses to create apprenticeships and work opportunities to match out-of-work residents to.
 
The housing crisis continues but Labour councils are doing all they can to alleviate it in the short term and overcome it in the long term. Islington and Manchester are pioneering new models of investment in conjunction with council pension funds, to boost the supply of new affordable homes. Many more people are being forced to rent given the affordable homes crisis – and councils like Blackpool, Oxford and Newham are developing approaches to licensing to tackle rogue landlords and increase quality.
 
The need to overcome inequality and tackle poverty is of course at the heart of Labour councils,who see this as their core purpose. Up and down the country, in Liverpool, Newcastle, Blackpool, Sheffield , Leicester and Islington, Labour councils have set up Fairness Commissions to identify the challenges in their area and provide a framework to guide their decisions so they maximise their impact on narrowing inequality gaps. In Islington, for example, this has led to the council becoming a living wage employer and reducing its internal pay differential. In Liverpool a new approach to procurement looks to employ firms which can demonstrate clear benefits to local jobs and skills.

Twenty one Labour-led authorities have committed to a Co-operative Council approach, developing new ways of running public services to shift power and control out of town halls and into the hands of citizens. In Oldham, this means the council is finding new ways to work on the side of residents and seeking to remove barriers for them – whether by devolving significant power and funding to six districts within the borough with more direct community oversight or through a new Energy Co-operative that enables households to save up to £150 a year on their energy bills.
 
Taken separately, these initiatives show that given determination, councils can work to meet the needs of their residents against the odds – even though the overall national context still takes an enormous toll on people’s lives. Taken together, they chart a new agenda for Labour which recognises that even in a tight financial environment it is possible to take decisions in a fairer way. By adapting innovation to local circumstance, the one nation vision of a society bound together can be achieved without it becoming a ‘one size fits all’. In fact, is clear that greater social justice relies on different responses in different communities. Through localism, Labour’s values have become a practical reality.

One set of values, one nation, but many approaches – this is the mantra of a Labour localism. Hope is scarce resource in Tory-led Britain, but Labour in local government is digging its heals in to at least provide people with some hope despite the gloom. 

Cllr David Sparks is leader of the LGA Labour Group and leader of Dudley Metropolitan Borough Council.  One Nation Localism is available here

Cllr David Sparks is leader of the LGA Labour Group and leader of Dudley Metropolitan Borough Council

Qusai Al Shidi/Flickr
Show Hide image

I can’t follow Marie Kondo's advice – even an empty Wotsits packet “sparks joy” in me

I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

I have been brooding lately on the Japanese tidying freak Marie Kondo. (I forgot her name so I typed “Japanese tidying freak” into Google, and it was a great help.) The “Japanese” bit is excusable in this context, and explains a bit, as I gather Japan is more on the case with the whole “being tidy” thing than Britain, but still.

Apart from telling us that we need to take an enormous amount of care, to the point where we perform origami when we fold our underpants, which is pretty much where she lost me, she advises us to throw away anything that does not, when you hold it, “spark joy”. Perhaps I have too much joy in my life. I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

After a while I gave up on this because I was getting a bit too happy with all the memories, so then I thought to myself, about her: “This is someone who isn’t getting laid enough,” and then I decided that was a crude and ungallant thought, and besides, who am I to wag the finger? At least if she invites someone to her bedroom no one is going to run screaming from it, as they would if I invited anyone to my boudoir. (Etym: from the French “bouder”, to sulk. How very apt in my case.) Marie Kondo – should bizarre circumstance ever conspire to bring her to the threshold – would run screaming from the Hovel before she’d even alighted the stairs from the front door.

I contemplate my bedroom. As I write, the cleaning lady is in it. To say that I have to spend half an hour cleaning out empty Wotsits packets, and indeed wotnot, before I let her in there should give you some idea of how shameful it has got. And even then I have to pay her to do so.

A girlfriend who used to be referred to often in these pages, though I think the term should be a rather less flippant one than “girlfriend”, managed to get round my natural messiness problem by inventing a game called “keep or chuck”.

She even made up a theme song for it, to the tune from the old Spiderman TV show. She would show me some object, which was not really rubbish, but usually a book (it may not surprise you to learn that it is the piles of books that cause most of the clutter here), and say, “Keep or chuck?” in the manner of a high-speed game show host. At one point I vacillated and so she then pointed at herself and said, “Keep or chuck?” I got the message.

These days the chances of a woman getting into the bedroom are remote. For one thing, you can’t just walk down the street and whistle for one much as one would hail a cab, although my daughter is often baffled by my ability to attract females, and suspects I have some kind of “mind ray”. Well, if I ever did it’s on the blink now, and not only that – right now, I’m not even particularly bothered that it’s on the blink. Because, for another thing, I would frankly not care to inflict myself upon anyone else at the moment.

It was all a bit of a giggle eight years ago, when I was wheeled out of the family home and left to my own devices. Of course, when I say “a bit of a giggle”, I mean “terrifying and miserable”, but I had rather fewer miles on the clock than I do now, and a man can, I think, get away with a little bit more scampish behaviour, and entertain a few more illusions about the future and his own plausibility as a character, when he is squarely in his mid-forties than when he is approaching, at speed, his middle fifties.

Death has rather a lot to do with it, I suppose. I had not actually seen, or touched, a dead body until I saw, and touched, my own father’s a few weeks ago. That’s what turns an abstract into a concrete reality. You finally put that to one side and gird up your loins – and then bloody David Bowie snuffs it, and you find yourself watching the videos for “Blackstar” and “Lazarus” over and over again, and reach the inescapable conclusion that death is not only incredibly unpleasant, it is also remorseless and very much nearer than you think.

And would you, dear reader, want to be involved with anyone who kept thinking along those lines? I mean, even if he learned how to fold his undercrackers into an upright cylinder, like a napkin at a fancy restaurant, before putting them in his drawer? When he doesn’t even have a drawer?

Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war