Labour must recognise the need for ruthless prioritisation

The party must seize control of the debate and show a bit of leg when it comes to economic policy.

 

There are three central arguments that will determine the outcome of the next election. One is over fairness, a second is over economic management, and a third over cultural affinity with the British – or more accurately the English – people.

Labour is winning the first of these hands down, but on the other two there is still a lot of spade work to do. Winning the cultural argument is perhaps the hardest. But it is on the economy that more progress must be made now if Labour is to make a genuine breakthrough.

Many observers wrongly believe that a weak economy and depressed living standards will hand Labour victory. There is nothing axiomatic about this. In fact, even if there is no economic recovery – and there may well be – this assumption is intoxicatingly complacent. No one should confuse the vicissitudes of government with the big questions that determine election outcomes.

If economic malaise continues, it is likely that in the general election campaign more questions will be asked of Labour than of the Conservatives because fear of change will dominate the psychology of the electorate. Credit downgrade, double, triple or even quadruple dip, it will not matter much. Elections are about choice.

And on the economy one question above all will define the debates – where is the money coming from? There is nothing new in this. It is an age old question, which has defined many elections. But this time, without better economic news, anxiety about debt – national and personal - will make it more potent.

To borrow from George Bernard Shaw, if Labour is unable to answer this question - we will neither find it easy to look at things as they are and ask why nor dream of things that never were and ask why not?

Ed Miliband knows this. Hence, his use of the phrase “ruthless prioritisation” in his Fabian lecture in January. It is time his party knew it.

There is a perfectly credible economic argument that the pace of cuts should be slower but whether you are a Keynesian, a Monetarist or just care about the price of a loaf of bread, it cannot be denied that there is now a need for some ruthless prioritisation.

Economics and politics sometimes pass in the night, but they rarely face in the same direction. The paradox is that the more you side with the view that cuts should be slower, the more you must reassure the electorate by demonstrating your determination to prioritise ruthlessly.

Taxing the rich more is not ruthless prioritisation, but the easy option; a habit that progressive parties should indulge in judiciously. Tax avoidance has to be tackled, but it is fiendishly difficult to raise more revenue consistently by doing so, particularly from global corporations. To deal with it effectively often requires international agreement.

Before Labour comes to a judgement on the spending envelope it needs to set out a coherent case to begin to answer the question that looms large on the horizon.

First, it must define, or rather redefine, the role of the state, and from this demonstrate how it will deliver value for money.

Old Labour believed that central government’s job was to deliver. New Labour wanted to steer not row the boat, but this too often became micro management from the centre, which stifled local initiative. One Nation Labour must let go. On housing benefit, employment programmes, and support for business, there are strong arguments for devolving certain powers to local government.

The IPPR has already made the case for some devolution of powers, but it has also articulated an excellent case for what it terms the ‘relational state.’ Fundamentally, opportunity derives from connections: who you know, not just what you know. By beginning to think about the problem in this way One Nation Labour can radically redefine the role of the state.

Here there are encouraging signs. In his recent contribution to the debate, Jon Cruddas, set out the case for both these changes in thinking.  But to make it fly Labour’s Treasury team must also sign up to this agenda.

One of Ed Miliband’s most effective themes is responsibility, from top to bottom. He should tie government into this theme, based on the responsibility of government to deliver good value for taxpayers. To make the case for this there are many reforms that should be advocated. Most of which don’t normally grab headlines, but demonstrate a real desire to be responsible with taxpayer’s money. An obvious example is the amalgamation of local government pensions, which has the potential to save billions.

Labour is beginning to think about ways to raise revenue which do not entail plucking the goose. It has to be careful not to show too much leg too soon but one idea that has far more mileage is social impact bonds, which reward investors only if certain agreed social outcomes are attained.

But even if Labour articulates these arguments well it cannot duck the need for ruthless prioritisation.  Universal provision of certain services and core universal benefits are vital to binding the nation together, but the boundaries of state provision have always fluctuated, and a debate about those boundaries, based on clear principles, should hold no fear. Certainly not for a mature party that is hungry for government.

For those who would protect everything and change nothing ask yourself how you would react if the Tories were to declare - as they are likely to do - that in the next parliament they would scrap certain pensioner benefits, such as free bus passes and the winter fuel allowance, and put the money instead into a better minimum pension, to protect the poorest?

It is far better for Labour to demonstrate strength and open up this debate now than to respond meekly when the question is put. Oppositions oppose, governments in waiting confront the challenges the nation faces.

Nick Pecorelli is associate director of The Campaign Company

Ed Miliband. Photograph: Getty Images

Nick Pecorelli is Associate Director of The Campaign Company

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What kind of Christian is Theresa May?

And why aren’t we questioning the vicar’s daughter on how her faith influences her politics?

“It is part of me. It is part of who I am and therefore how I approach things,” Theresa May told Kirsty Young when asked about her faith on BBC Radio 4’s Desert Island Discs in November 2014. “I think it’s right that we don’t sort of flaunt these things here in British politics but it is a part of me, it’s there, and it obviously helps to frame my thinking.”

The daughter of a Church of England vicar, Rev. Hubert Brasier, May grew up an active Christian in Oxfordshire. She was so involved in parish life that she even taught some Sunday school classes. She goes on in the Desert Island Discs interview to choose the hymn When I Survey the Wondrous Cross sung by a chapel congregation, and recalls being alone in church with her parents, kneeling and singing together.

Despite her intense attachment to local CofE life, Theresa May’s role as a Christian in politics is defined more by her unwillingness to “flaunt” (in her words) her faith.

Perhaps this is partly why, as a Christian, May avoided the scrutiny directed at Lib Dem leader and evangelical Christian Tim Farron over the past week of his stance on homosexuality and abortion.

As Farron wriggled – first saying he didn’t want to make “theological pronouncements” on whether or not being gay is a sin (and then, days later, announcing that it isn’t) – May’s critics scratched their heads about why her voting record on such matters isn’t in the media spotlight.

She has a socially conservative voting record when it comes to such subjects. As the journalist and activist Owen Jones points out, she has voted against equalising the age of consent, repealing Section 28, and gay adoption (twice).

Although her more recent record on gay rights is slightly better than Farron’s – she voted in favour of same-sex marriage throughout the process, and while Farron voted against the Equality Act Sexual Orientation Regulations in 2007 (the legislation obliging bed and breakfast owners and wedding cake makers, etc, not to discriminate against gay people), May simply didn’t attend.

May has also voted for the ban on sex-selective abortions, for reducing the abortion limit to 20 weeks, abstained on three-parent babies, and against legalising assisted suicide.

“Looking at how she’s voted, it’s a slightly socially conservative position,” says Nick Spencer, Research Director of the religion and society think tank Theos. “That matches with her generally slightly more economically conservative, or non-liberal, position. But she’s not taking those views off pages of scripture or a theology textbook. What her Christianity does is orient her just slightly away from economic and social liberalism.”

Spencer has analysed how May’s faith affects her politics in his book called The Mighty and the Almighty: How Political Leaders Do God, published over Easter this year. He found that her brand of Christianity underpinned “the sense of mutual rights and responsibilities, and exercising those responsibilities through practical service”.

May’s father was an Anglo-Catholic, and Spencer points out that this tradition has roots in the Christian socialist tradition in the early 20th century. A world away from the late Victorian Methodism that fellow Christian Margaret Thatcher was raised with. “That brought with it a package of independence, hard work, probity, and economic prudence. They’re the values you’d get from a good old Gladstonian Liberal. Very different from May.”

Spencer believes May’s faith focuses her on a spirit of citizenship and communitarian values – in contrast to Thatcher proselytising the virtues of individualism during her premiership.

Cradle Christian

A big difference between May and Farron’s Christianity is that May is neither a convert nor an evangelical.

“She’s a cradle Christian, it’s deep in her bloodstream,” notes Spencer. “That means you’re very unlikely to find a command-and-control type role there, it’s not as if her faith’s going to point her in a single direction. She’s not a particularly ideological politician – it’s given her a groundwork and foundation on which her politics is built.”

This approach appears to be far more acceptable in the eyes of the public than Farron’s self-described “theological pronouncements”.  May is known to be a very private politician who keeps her personal life, including her ideas about faith, out of the headlines.

“I don’t think she has to show off, or join in, she just does it; she goes to church,” as her former cabinet colleague Cheryl Gillan put it simply to May’s biographer Rosa Prince.

The voters’ view

It’s this kind of Christianity – quiet but present, part of the fabric without imposing itself – that chimes most with British voters.

“In this country, given our history and the nature of the established Church, it's something that people recognise and understand even if they don't do it themselves,” says Katie Harrison, Director of the Faith Research Centre at polling company ComRes. “Whether or not it’s as active as it used to be, lots of people see it as a nice thing to have, and they understand a politician who talks warmly about those things. That’s probably a widely-held view.”

Although church and Sunday school attendance is falling (about 13 per cent say they regularly attend Christian religious services, aside from weddings and funerals), most current surveys of the British population find that about half still identify as Christian. And ComRes polling in January 2017 found that 52 per cent of people think it’s important that UK politicians and policy-makers have a good understanding of religion in the UK.

Perhaps this is why May, when asked by The Sunday Times last year how she makes tough decisions, felt able to mention her Christianity:  “There is something in terms of faith, I am a practising member of the Church of England and so forth, that lies behind what I do.”

“I don’t think we’re likely to react hysterically or with paranoid fear if our politicians start talking about their faith,” reflects Spencer. “What we don’t like is if they start ‘preaching’ about it.”

“Don’t do God”

So if May can speak about her personal faith, why was the nation so squeamish when Tony Blair did the same thing? Notoriously, the former Labour leader spoke so frankly about his religion when Prime Minister that his spin doctor Alastair Campbell warned: “We don’t do God.” Some of Blair’s critics accuse him of being driven to the Iraq war by his faith.

Although Blair’s faith is treated as the “watershed” of British society no longer finding public displays of religion acceptable, Spencer believes Blair’s problem was an unusual one. Like Farron, he was a convert. He famously converted to Catholicism as an adult (and by doing so after his resignation, side-stepped the question of a Catholic Prime Minister). Farron was baptised at 21. The British public is more comfortable with a leader who is culturally Christian than one who came to religion in their adulthood, who are subjected to more scrutiny.

That’s why Gordon Brown, David Cameron and Theresa May can get away with talking about their faith, according to Spencer. “Brown, a much more cultural Presbyterian, used a lot of Biblical language. Cameron talked about it all the time – but he was able to do so because he had a vague, cultural, undogmatic Anglicanism,” he tells me. “And May holds it at arm’s length and talks about being a clergyman’s daughter, in the same way Brown talked about his father’s moral compass.”

This doesn’t stop May’s hard Brexit and non-liberal domestic policy jarring with her Christian values, however. According to Harrison’s polling, Christian voters’ priorities lie in social justice, and tackling poverty at home and overseas – in contrast with the general population’s preoccupations.

Polling from 2015 (pre-Brexit, granted) found that practising Christians stated more concern about social justice (27 per cent) than immigration (14 per cent). When entering No 10, May put herself “squarely at the service of ordinary working-class people”. Perhaps it’s time for her to practise what she preaches.

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.

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