Why doesn’t Labour face a UKIP of the left?

The loyalty of the trade unions to Labour, the rebirth of street politics and, in Scotland and Wales, Plaid Cymru and the SNP help explain why the party faces no effective challenge from the left.

Notwithstanding the defection of UKIP MEP Martina Andreason last Saturday, the Tories look set to lose the Eastleigh by-election on Thursday thanks to a surge by Nigel Farage's party.

Now routinely hitting 8-12 per cent in national polls, UKIP’s rise might not be enough to break our three-party system, but it may see them improve on their position in next year’s European elections and perhaps deprive the Tories of an overall majority in 2015 by splitting the centre-right vote as the Cameroon Tory party tacks to the centre; leaving UKIP space to pick up alienated social conservatives with a penchant for small-state solutions and a disavowal of all things European.

But why does this not work on the other side of the political aisle? Why is there no effective leftist challenge eating away at Labour’s core support? On the face of it, it seems anomalous. As Labour moved to the right under Tony Blair from 1994 onwards, enormous amounts of political space opened up on the left.

Arthur Scargill’s Socialist Labour Party, born of the decision to scrap the Clause IV commitment to large-scale nationalisation, was the first to try and fill it back in 1995. Both the Socialist Alliance and George Galloway’s Respect party have also unsuccessfully attempted to occupy Labour’s left flank. Granted, Galloway has now poked Labour in the eye on two memorable occasions; beating pro-Iraq war Blairite Oona King in Bethnal Green and Bow in 2005 and then, last March, winning the Bradford West by-election. But these were aberrations and no wider breakthrough has followed.

There’s a reason for that. Well, actually there are three. The first is organisational. Setting up a political party requires cash – rather a lot of it. Without hefty benefactors, this is an insurmountable problem for left-wing pretenders. The trade unions offer Labour both finance and organisation. Those who see the relationship as solely monetary miss the point. Labour’s affiliated unions supplement the party’s activist base with a reserve army of committed, well-organised and politically-motivated supporters. Without the trade unions, no left-wing alternative to Labour stands a chance.

The second reason is that idealists have simply taken to the streets. From the Stop The War movement through to UK Uncut, new grassroots movements, relying on social media, rather than union funding, are reinventing the left as oppositional mass protest. The compromises of constitutional politics, as Ed Miliband’s Marxist theorist father, Ralph, noted in his book, Parliamentary Socialism, means that many left-wing idealists, who would in previous years have caused problems for Labour’s moderate leadership, are now happy to bypass party politics altogether.

The third reason Labour faces no effective challenge from the left is down to existing choice, at least for voters on the Celtic fringe. Although Labour would never admit it, both Plaid Cymru and the SNP are essentially social democratic parties, offering a viable, centre-left, anti-Tory alternative to wavering Labour voters. The choice for English voters though is essentially one of stick or twist; with twist in this instance being the option of not voting at all.

As UKIP threatens to reshape British politics by taking up permanent residence on the Tories’ right flank, David Cameron can perhaps be forgiven for wishing disgruntled Tories simply stayed at home too.  

Protesters occupy the Fortnum and Mason department store in London on March 26, 2011, during a mass demonstration against government spending cuts. Photograph: Getty Images.

Kevin Meagher is associate editor of Labour Uncut and a former special adviser at the Northern Ireland office. 

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In the 1980s, I went to a rally where Labour Party speakers shared the stage with men in balaclavas

The links between the Labour left and Irish republicanism are worth investigating.

A spat between Jeremy Corbyn’s henchfolk and Conor McGinn, the MP for St Helens North, caught my ear the other evening. McGinn was a guest on BBC Radio 4’s Westminster Hour, and he obligingly revisited the brouhaha for the listeners at home. Apparently, following an interview in May, in which McGinn called for Corbyn to “reach out beyond his comfort zone”, he was first threatened obliquely with the sack, then asked for a retraction (which he refused to give) and finally learned – from someone in the whips’ office – that his party leader was considering phoning up McGinn’s father to whip the errant whipper-in into line. On the programme, McGinn said: “The modus operandi that he [Corbyn] and the people around him were trying to do [sic], involving my family, was to isolate and ostracise me from them and from the community I am very proud to come from – which is an Irish nationalist community in south Armagh.”

Needless to say, the Labour leader’s office has continued to deny any such thing, but while we may nurture some suspicions about his behaviour, McGinn was also indulging in a little airbrushing when he described south Armagh as an “Irish ­nationalist community”. In the most recent elections, Newry and Armagh returned three Sinn Fein members to the Northern Ireland Assembly (as against one Social Democratic and Labour Party member) and one Sinn Fein MP to Westminster. When I last looked, Sinn Fein was still a republican, rather than a nationalist, party – something that McGinn should only be too well aware of, as the paternal hand that was putatively to have been lain on him belongs to Pat McGinn, the former Sinn Fein mayor of Newry and Armagh.

According to the Irish News, a “close friend” of the McGinns poured this cold water on the mini-conflagration: “Anybody who knows the McGinn family knows that Pat is very proud of Conor and that they remain very close.” The friend went on to opine: “He [Pat McGinn] found the whole notion of Corbyn phoning him totally ridiculous – as if Pat is going to criticise his son to save Jeremy Corbyn’s face. They would laugh about it were it not so sinister.”

“Sinister” does seem the mot juste. McGinn, Jr grew up in Bessbrook during the Troubles. I visited the village in the early 1990s on assignment. The skies were full of the chattering of British army Chinooks, and there were fake road signs in the hedgerows bearing pictograms of rifles and captioned: “Sniper at work”. South Armagh had been known for years as “bandit country”. There were army watchtowers standing sentinel in the dinky, green fields and checkpoints everywhere, manned by some of the thousands of the troops who had been deployed to fight what was, in effect, a low-level counter-insurgency war. Nationalist community, my foot.

What lies beneath the Corbyn-McGinn spat is the queered problematics of the ­relationship between the far left wing of the Labour Party and physical-force Irish republicanism. I also recall, during the hunger strikes of the early 1980s, going to a “Smash the H-Blocks” rally in Kilburn, north London, at which Labour Party speakers shared the stage with representatives from Sinn Fein, some of whom wore balaclavas and dark glasses to evade the telephoto lenses of the Met’s anti-terrorist squad.

The shape-shifting relationship between the “political wing” of the IRA and the men with sniper rifles in the south Armagh bocage was always of the essence of the conflict, allowing both sides a convenient fiction around which to posture publicly and privately negotiate. In choosing to appear on platforms with people who might or might not be terrorists, Labour leftists also sprinkled a little of their stardust on themselves: the “stardust” being the implication that they, too, under the right circumstances, might be capable of violence in pursuit of their political ends.

On the far right of British politics, Her Majesty’s Government and its apparatus are referred to derisively as “state”. There were various attempts in the 1970s and 1980s by far-right groupuscules to link up with the Ulster Freedom Fighters and other loyalist paramilitary organisations in their battle against “state”. All foundered on the obvious incompetence of the fascists. The situation on the far left was different. The socialist credentials of Sinn Fein/IRA were too threadbare for genuine expressions of solidarity, but there was a sort of tacit confidence-and-supply arrangement between these factions. The Labour far left provided the republicans with the confidence that, should an appropriately radical government be elected to Westminster, “state” would withdraw from Northern Ireland. What the republicans did for the mainland militants was to cloak them in their penumbra of darkness: without needing to call down on themselves the armed might of “state”, they could imply that they were willing to take it on, should the opportunity arise.

I don’t for a second believe that Corbyn was summoning up these ghosts of the insurrectionary dead when he either did or did not threaten to phone McGinn, Sr. But his supporters need to ask themselves what they’re getting into. Their leader, if he was to have remained true to the positions that he has espoused over many years, should have refused to sit as privy counsellor upon assuming his party office, and refused all the other mummery associated with the monarchical “state”. That he didn’t do so was surely a strategic decision. Such a position would make him utterly unelectable.

The snipers may not be at work in south Armagh just now – but there are rifles out there that could yet be dug up. I wouldn’t be surprised if some in Sinn Fein knew where they are, but one thing’s for certain: Corbyn hasn’t got a clue, bloody or otherwise. 

Will Self is an author and journalist. His books include Umbrella, Shark, The Book of Dave and The Butt. He writes the Madness of Crowds and Real Meals columns for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser