After Eastleigh, the Tories need to end their UKIP tribute act

When Conservatives, including Cameron, indicate their eagerness to be a little bit more like UKIP, all they do is give Nigel Farage the credit for setting the agenda.

You can always tell by-election veterans by the way they say “GOTV” without feeling the need to explain what it means. The first time I heard it, I momentarily thought of some obscure cable television channel before I decoded the acronym: Get-Out-The-Vote.

The Liberal Democrat victory in Eastleigh belongs to its GOTV operation – keeping up-to-date records of who has supported the party in the past, in which wards, in which streets; making them feel loved, calling them on the day to remind them to vote; offering them lifts to the polling station; keeping activists supplied with tea and cake. When I visited the seat at the start of the campaign I was struck by the confidence of the local Lib Dems, not just in their own local machine but in the absence of an equivalent Tory or Labour operation.

Superficially, the Conservatives got organised early in Eastleigh. They had their candidate selected before any other party, they were scoping out the battleground when Chris Huhne was still the sitting MP and merely in danger of having to resign. The moment Huhne stepped down, Tory boots started hitting the ground. But even then they were too late. The Lib Dems were dug in deep, their trenches fortified over many years of winning and holding council seats. I saw Grant Shapps stalking around Eastleigh like a heavily armed marine commando through a sleepy village in occupied territory – both cocky and nervous, confident of his superior firepower and aerial supremacy, yet doubting their effectiveness against well-trained local guerrillas. (Similarly, I don’t imagine John O’Farrell, Labour’s amiable novelist/comedian/candidate, was much helped by the brightly coloured parachute still trailing behind him as he walked around the constituency.)

The Tories also had a problem with their candidate. Maria Hutchings had already been rejected by the voters of Eastleigh once before, having stood unsuccessfully in 2010. In a high-profile contest like this one it doesn’t look good to be serving up electoral leftovers. Then there is the matter of Hutchings’s UKIP-lite platform – anti-gay marriage; anti-EU etc. I think the most revealing element of that is what it says about the Tory leadership’s inattention to candidate selection and general neglect of so much of what goes on in the party beyond the gates of Downing Street, but I blogged on that theme earlier in the campaign.

Most commentary over the next few days will focus on UKIP's performance, which is both extraordinary – a fringe party pushed the Tories into third place – and entirely consistent with recent by-election results. People were looking to express their anger about all sorts of things, it’s mid-term and the two front-runners both represented governing parties. In fairness to the Tories, the Lib Dems were working incumbency like crazy and it is technically impossible for a Conservative to benefit from any kind of protest vote as long as there is a Conservative Prime Minister in Downing Street.

On that front, there is some cause for Ed Miliband to be worried. Eastleigh was never a winnable seat for Labour but with two governing parties in an unseemly brawl, you might have thought there would be more room for Labour to mop up dissenters and look as if it is representing the obvious alternative. That the angry mob preferred UKIP suggests Miliband’s message isn’t getting through. After all, he is supposed to be the man to rip up the rules, shift the paradigm, change the direction, smash the consensus, unite the nation, end the old era, herald the new … . Miliband sincerely sees himself as the architect of a radical alternative to the coalition; in Eastleigh, Labour is plainly still seen as just another haggard old party.

That would be less of a problem if some senior Labour figures hadn’t been out actively briefing at the start of the campaign that this by-election was an opportunity to prove their competitiveness in the south. It was the wrong place to test that proposition and someone ought to have worked that out sooner.

But that shouldn’t detract from David Cameron’s woes. In the allocation of pain from one electoral episode, the bumper portion plainly goes to the Prime Minister as my colleague George wrote this morning. There will now be another round of sniping between those Tories who think UKIP are channelling the spirit of authentic Conservatism, which Tories should channel louder and clearer, and those who think selling Tory candidates as UKIP tribute acts would be a catastrophe. (Cameron would love to find a way to be the nationalist strongman that Ukippers want in a leader without simultaneously reinforcing all of the mean-spirited cultural stereotypes that make so many non-aligned voters recoil from the Tories – but if he could do that he wouldn’t have been forced into coalition with the Lib Dems in the first place.)

Cameron’s problem with UKIP looks more and more like a rehearsal of the trouble the US Republicans have with the Tea Party. It feeds off grass roots energy, presenting itself as the anti-establishment, anti-politics beating heart of conservatism, which makes it very effective when it comes to local campaigning and disrupting the mainstream. Yet it simply doesn’t reach out to enough people to be a credible national alternative and, with its whiff of racist reaction – yes, all that anti-Islam, anti-EU, anti-immigration stuff has a nasty xenophobic hum to liberal ears – it simultaneously alarms moderates and contaminates the whole right-wing agenda. There are obvious differences, not least in the levels of fundamentalist religiosity in the Tea Party that I don’t detect in UKIP. Crucially, the Tea Party is integral to Republicanism while UKIP is a separate party. But that is precisely why it is toxic for Tories to talk as if they really are two wings of the same movement that should be reunited. That is why it is deadly when Conservatives at all levels, including Cameron himself, say and do things that indicate their eagerness to be a little bit more like UKIP – chasing Europhobes with referendum pledges, for example. All it does is give Nigel Farage the credit for setting the agenda while reinforcing the impression that Tories would like to be more fanatical than they are but daren’t admit as much. It says “Ukip are on to something. We can be UKIP too, only a bit less so.” That invites the Farage response: “why vote for imitation UKIP when you can have the real thing.”

I suspect the Tories can still count on a whole load of UKIP voters coming back in a general election in order to keep Labour out. (And besides, there are plenty of ex-Labour voters backing UKIP too.) But there are two years before a general election. During that time UKIP will continue to eat into the Tory grassroots. It will exert a powerful gravitational pull on local prospective Tory candidates and set the tone for incumbent MPs whose loyalty, as polling day approaches, will go more and more to the people on the ground whose services they must call on for re-election. And in places where there is no Tory incumbency, the Conservative GOTV operation will continue to wither.

By-elections are famously unhelpful as predictors of general election outcomes. The result in Eastleigh says a few interesting things about Lib Dem resilience and the extreme readiness of other voters not to be Labour or Tory. But it isn’t so much the result at the end of the campaign that the parties must examine to learn their lessons, but the state of their machinery and their strategic message at the start.

David Cameron addresses the media at the headquarters of the EU Council on February 8, 2013 in Brussels. Photograph: Getty Images.

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

Show Hide image

How “cli-fi” novels humanise the science of climate change

The paradox is that the harder climate-fiction novels try, the less effective they are.

When the Paris UN Climate Change Conference begins at the end of November, the world’s leaders will review the climate framework agreed in Rio in 1992. For well over 20 years, the world has not just been thinking and talking about climate change, it has also been writing and reading about it, in blogs, newspapers, magazines – and in novels.

Climate change fiction is now a recognisable literary phenomenon replete with its own nickname: “cli-fi”. The term was coined in 2007 by Taiwan-based blogger Dan Bloom. Since then, its use has spread: it was even tweeted by Margaret Atwood in 2013:

It is not a genre in the accepted scholarly sense, since it lacks the plot formulas or stylistic conventions that tend to define genres (such as science fiction or the western). However, it does name a remarkable recent literary and publishing trend.

A 21st-century phenomenon?

Putting a number to this phenomenon depends, partly, on how one defines cli-fi. How much of a novel has to be devoted to climate change before it is considered cli-fi? Should we restrict the term to novels about man-made global warming? (If we don’t, we should remember that narratives about global climatic change are as old as The Epic of Gilgamesh and the Biblical story of the flood.) If we define cli-fi as fictional treatments of climate change caused by human activity in terms of setting, theme or plot – and accept there will be grey areas in the extent of this treatment – a conservative estimate would put the all-time number of cli-fi novels at 150 and growing. This is the figure put forward by Adam Trexler, who has worked with me to survey the development of cli-fi.

This definition also gives us a start date for cli-fi’s history. While planetary climatic change occurs in much 20th-century science fiction, it is only after growing scientific awareness of specifically man-made, carbon-induced climate change in the 1960s and 1970s that novels on this subject emerged. The first is Arthur Herzog’s Heat in 1976, followed by George Turner’s The Sun and the Summer (published in the US as Drowning Towers) in 1987.

At the turn of this century, Maggie Gee and TC Boyle were among the first mainstream authors to publish climate change novels. In this century, we can count Atwood, Michael Crichton, Barbara Kingsolver, Ian McEwan, Kim Stanley Robinson, Ilija Trojanow and Jeanette Winterson as major authors who have written about climate change. The past five years have given us notable examples of cli-fi by emerging authors, such as Steven Amsterdam, Edan Lepucki, Jane Rawson, Nathaniel Rich and Antti Tuomainen.

Creative challenges

Cli-fi is all the more noteworthy considering the creative challenge posed by climate change. First, there is the problem of scale – spatial and temporal. Climate change affects the entire planet and all its species – and concerns the end of this planet as we know it. Novels, by contrast, conventionally concern the actions of individual protagonists and/or, sometimes, small communities.

Added to this is the networked nature of climate change: in physical terms, the climate is a large, complex system whose effects are difficult to model. In socio-cultural terms, solutions require intergovernmental agreement – just what COP21 intends – and various top-down and bottom-up transformations. Finally, there exists the difficulty of translating scientific information, with all its predictive uncertainty, into something both accurate and interesting to the average reader.

Still, cli-fi writers have adopted a range of strategies to engage their readers. Many cli-fi novels could be classified as dystopian, post-apocalyptic or, indeed, both – depicting nightmarish societies triggered by sometimes catastrophic climate events. A future world is one effective way of narrating the planetary condition of climate change.

Some novelists are also careful to underpin their scenarios with rigorous climatic predictions and, in this way, translate science fact into a fictional setting. Kingsolver, who trained as an ecologist, is the best example of this – and Atwood and Robinson are also known for their attempts at making their speculations scientifically plausible. Also, cli-fi novels, particularly those set in the present day or very near future rather than in a dystopian future, tend to show the political or psychological dimensions of living with climate change. Readers can identify with protagonists. To some extent, the global community is represented in fictional everymen or everywomen. Or, often, it is through such characters that science is humanised and its role in combating climate change better understood.

Can cli-fi lead to change?

Could cli-fi affect how we think and act on climate change? The paradox is that the harder cli-fi tries, the less effective it is. Many writers want to inspire change, not insist on it: the line between literature and propaganda is one that most novelists respect. Literature invites us to inhabit other worlds and live other lives. Cli-fi at its best lets us travel to climate-changed worlds, to strive there alongside others and then to return armed with that experience.

In Paris, the UN will seek a global agreement on climate action for the first time in more than 20 years. There is plenty of climate change fiction out there to help provide the mental and psychological space to consider that action.

The Conversation

Adeline Johns-Putra, Reader in English Literature, University of Surrey

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.