Doubts about Miliband’s commitment to welfare reform go up in flames. In a good way, they hope.

The welfare line that Miliband is going to take owes a lot to the work that Liam Byrne has been doing.

So tomorrow, Ed Miliband will say something significant about welfare. Some of the outline has been briefed in advance and some has leaked out perhaps not so strategically. Either way, we know that the Labour leader is going to say something that he hopes will make it harder for his enemies to claim, as they often do, that he doesn’t want to talk about benefits.

In fact, his friends have privately said much the same too. More than once in recent months I’ve been told by Labour MPs, including shadow cabinet ministers, that the reason the party’s line on welfare is a bit foggy is that Ed himself "hasn’t properly made up his mind what he thinks." Well, it seems that now he has. And tomorrow, we’re going to find out the result of his meditations.

There isn’t much point in me going on at length about it here, not least because, judging by standard media-management practice, there will be some little surprise that Team Ed has held back and that everyone will be talking about tomorrow afternoon. The Labour leader likes to disappear into his cave to think very hard for weeks at a time and then emerge with something shiny so that his anxious tribe that was on the verge of panicking and the media are briefly dazzled and cry, "Oooh! We underestimated him. Again." (We’ll pass quickly over the fact that this technique – the meticulously planned set-piece intervention – may owe something to Miliband’s apprenticeship at the feet of one G Brown in the Treasury.)

A final observation: by the sounds of things, the welfare line that Miliband is going to take owes a lot to the work that Liam Byrne has been doing. That shouldn’t be a surprise, given that Byrne is shadow work and pensions secretary. Yet a feature of Labour’s welfare debate in recent years as been the shadow secretary of state coming out with speeches, statements and interviews on the need to restore the contributory principle; on "switch-spending"; on returning to Bevan’s original vision that coupled an individual’s responsibility to work with the state’s duty to guarantee full employment – and the leader’s office going eerily quiet. Meanwhile, the left piles into Byrne as a Blairite stooge.

So isolated has Byrne looked at times that I recently asked a senior Labour source in the leader’s office to confirm that what the Shadow Secretary of State for Work and Pensions said about benefits could actually be taken as a statement of current Labour party policy. "Absolutely," came the answer. "Ed thinks the same as Liam." When I then pointed out that it didn’t always come across that way, I got the answer: "Well we do have to work on getting our message across more clearly."

I put the same question to another senior shadow cabinet figure a week or so ago and was told: "Ed gets it now. He will deliver the message himself and it will be in neon and lit up like a firework." So tomorrow, it seems, is the day doubts about Miliband’s commitment to welfare reform go up in flames. In a good way, they hope.

 

Ed Miliband addresses workers at Islington Town Hall on November 5, 2012 in London. Photograph: Getty Images.

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

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How the Brexit referendum has infantilised British politics

Politicians like Boris are not characters in a fantasy show. If they aspire to high office then they must be held to high standards. 

Ancient Greece is the cradle of modern Europe.  From its primordial soup emerged so much of our culture, our language and our politics. Of the three, it seems to be the politics that has made the least progress over the centuries. In fact, if you dropped an Athenian into the middle of politics in the UK today, they would find themselves right at home. This is not because of the direct democracy, the demagogues or the xenophobia, though all are worryingly familiar, but because of the style of the debate itself.

To understand politics in ancient Greece you have to grasp that they had no concept of ‘the truth’. This is not to say that they were liars, simply that the framework by which we judge credibility was not one they would have recognised. The myths and legends that dominated their discourse were neither thought of as being ‘true’ or ‘made-up’, they simply were, and the fact of their being known allowed them to be used as reference points for debate and argument.

Modern politics seems to be sliding back towards this infant state, and nothing embodies this more than the childish slanging match that passes for an EU referendum debate. In the past six years the UK has had three great exercises of direct democracy and it is safe to say none of the campaigns have added a great deal to sum of human enlightenment. Who remembers the claims that babies would die as a result of the special voting machines needed to conduct AV elections? But the EU referendum has taken this to new extremes. The In campaign are executing what is a fairly predictable strategy, the kind of thing that is normal fare in politics these days. Dossiers of doomsday scenarios. Experts wheeled out. Statistics embellished to dazzle the public. One can question the exact accuracy, but at least you feel they operate within certain parameters of veracity.

What is happening on the Out side, in contrast, is the collective nervous breakdown of a large section of the political establishment. Just this week we have had Penny Mordaunt, a government minister, flat-out denying the UK’s right to veto new accessions to the EU. We have seen the fiercely independent Institute for Fiscal Studies denounced as a propaganda arm for Brussels. Most bizarrely, Boris Johnson even tried to claim that the EU had banned bananas from being sold in bunches larger than three, something that nobody who has actually visited a shop in the UK could possibly believe. These kind of claims stretch our political discourse way beyond the crudely drawn boundaries of factual accuracy that normally constrain what politicians can do and say. Surely the people peddling these myths can never be taken seriously again?

But they will. You just watch as Johnson, Mordaunt and the rest slide effortlessly back into public life. Instead of being ridiculed for their unhinged statements, they will be rewarded with plush offices and ministerial cars. Journalists will continue to hang on every word they say. Their views will be published in newspapers, their faces will flit ceaselessly across our TV screens. Johnson is even touted as a plausible future leader of our country, possibly before the year is out. A man who over his meandering career seems to have held every possible opinion on any topic you care to name. Or rather, perhaps it is more accurate to say that the character we call Boris has no opinions at all, simply interests. The public, who have scant regard for a political class they believe to be untrustworthy, seem to have taken a shine to a man who is perhaps the most fundamentally dishonest of Westminster’s denizens.

What does all this say about the state of our politics? If it is true that we are seeing the advent of ‘post-truth’ politics, as some have argued, then it has grown out of the corrosive relationship between politicians and the public. It is both a great irony and a great tragedy that the very fact that people distrust all politicians is what has permitted the most opportunistic to peddle more and more outlandish claims. Political discourse has ceased to be a rational debate with agreed parameters and, like the ancient Greeks, more resembles a series of competing myths. Claims are assessed not by their accuracy but by their place in the grand narrative which is politics.

But the truth matters. For the ancients it was the historian Thucydides who shifted the dial decisively in favour of fact over fiction. In writing his Histories he decided that he wanted to know what actually happened, not just what made a good story. In a similar vein British politics needs to take a step back towards the real world. Broadcasters launching fact-checkers are a good start, but we need to up the level of scrutiny on political claims and those who make them. At times it feels like the press operate as a kind of counterweight to Game of Thrones author George RR Martin, going easy on much-loved characters for fear of upsetting the viewers.

But politicians like Boris are not characters in a fantasy show. If they aspire to high office then they must be held to high standards. If politics is the art of the possible, then political discourse is the art of saying what you can get away with. Until there are consequences for the worst offenders, the age of post-truth politics will continue suck the life from our public debate.