How Labour can give real meaning to predistribution

If the party is to offer a positive account of how it would govern in tough times, it must rigorously define future spending priorities.

Whatever the modern obsession with personality and presentation, ideas still have the potential to make the weather in British politics. 'Predistribution' is hardly the punchiest term invented to describe a big concept. But it is the closest thing that Ed Miliband's Labour has to a coherent governing strategy.

The strength of the idea, coming hot on the heels of the Labour leader's landmark welfare speech last Thursday, is two-fold. Predistribution acknowledges what went wrong under the previous government, emphasising that Labour would be different next time, eschewing the Byzantine tax credit economy in favour of active measures to make the labour market fairer, while increasing the supply of secure high quality jobs. Secondly, predistribution points to how a Labour government would operate with less money around, using a richer set of levers to affect change from tougher regulation of labour and product markets, to legislation that transforms the culture of corporate governance and short-termism in British business. The agenda underlines the argument that higher public expenditure is not the only route to a fairer, more equal society.

However, even the most ardent Labour loyalist would concede the party has not made sufficient progress in fleshing out a substantive predistribution project. The policy review has sought to carve out fresh territory, stimulating much-needed debate about rebuilding solidarity and the 'limits to markets' (as espoused by Michael Sandel). But the clock is ticking; many in the party are beginning to ask: where is the substance underpinning Labour's programme?

Both the Balls and Miliband speeches have bought Labour desperately needed economic and political credibility. But they were essentially about dumping negatives: drawing a line under Labour's reputation for economic profligacy and a perceived failure to reform the welfare state in the Blair and Brown years. What the party urgently needs is a positive account of how it would govern in tough times. Labour cannot hope to secure a substantive majority in 2015 unless it sets out a credible, forward-looking programme. The predistribution idea has to make much greater impact with the public. 

The challenge for Labour is that while the concept of predistribution appears sufficiently nebulous to appeal to all sides of the political spectrum, this agenda, if it is to mean anything, necessitates facing up to hard choices. Substantive predistribution requires tough reforms that raise difficult questions for the party. Intriguingly, this is the case whether it is 'Blairite modernisers', or the more traditional elements of Labour's left. The challenge is to step beyond outdated ideological categories as Miliband embarks on the task of reshaping British social democracy for an era of post-crisis austerity.

For one, predistribution will not succeed unless the bargaining position of low-paid workers can be strengthened. This will require a very different balance to be struck between regulation and flexibility in the labour market, including a higher 'living' minimum wage with scope for sectoral pay bargaining to prevent under-cutting. It will require stronger collective organisation too, with scope for 'new unions' to organise the lowest paid workers. New Labour's claim that 'any job is a good job' is no longer tenable if the aim is to make the distribution of initial market outcomes fairer. 

Neither will predistribution be credible unless Labour can advance a bold education reform strategy for Britain. In the UK, raising the economy onto a high wage, high skill, high productivity trajectory entails sustained investment in training and human capital. The party has been undermined on education, allowing Michael Gove to acquire ownership of the academy schools programme popularised by Tony Blair. Free schools have serious limitations, creating an uncoordinated market and an admissions free for all, but Labour needs its own proposals to ratchet up performance in the lowest performing areas. Further education colleges need bold reform to raise quality; apprenticeships should be guaranteed for young people who achieve the requisite qualifications in English and Maths; access to university, regardless of social background, must be further expanded. 

Finally, an effective strategy of predistribution will require Labour to resolve major debates about the balance between targeting and universalism in the welfare state. The old model of redistributive welfare relied heavily on means-testing, underlined by the structure of tax credits in an effort to subsidise low pay at the lower end of the labour market. The contributory system which Labour favours would have real strengths in underpinning support for the welfare state, but the costs of transitioning to a new system would be significant. Many of the benefit cuts introduced by the coalition cannot be reversed by an incoming Labour government: the price of the contributory principle will be declining benefits for the workless poor.

As such, a credible predistribution agenda will require Labour to rigorously define future spending priorities. This is not simply a question of which departmental budget to trim, or which benefit cuts to reverse or accept. This is a bigger existential question about whether Labour's strategic purpose is to be a party of distribution or a party of production. To be a governing force committed to an underlying shift in the distribution of wealth and power in British society, Labour will need to prioritise social investment in the early years and childcare, family support, education, skills, knowledge, innovation, human capital, and industrial policy. These are the most viable policies for 'predistributing' market outcomes among those on lower and middle incomes, as north European countries such as Sweden, Denmark and the Netherlands demonstrate. But the party should be under no illusions: if such policies are to be advanced, a future Labour government will have to examine every line of spending on health, pensions, policing, criminal justice, and defence. 

There will inevitably be painful decisions for a party deeply committed to social justice and fairness. But they have to be addressed head on if Labour is to be a credible party of government in tough times. 

Patrick Diamond is a senior research fellow at Policy Network

Ed Miliband walks through Hyde Park after addressing TUC members at the end of a march in protest against the government's austerity measures on October 20, 2012. Photograph: Getty Images.
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Want your team to succeed? Try taking a step back

From the boardroom to the sports ground, managers need to step back for creativity to thrive.

Everyone is in favour of creativity, usually at the expense of creative people. The concept is in perpetual boom. Give us creative midfielders, creative leadership, creative solutions, creative energy. It’s with the “how” that the problems start – with extra meetings and meddling, over-analysis and prescriptiveness, whiteboards and flow charts. Professional systems rarely support the creativity that they allegedly seek. The creativity industry system is at odds with its stated goals.

The novel was an early casualty. Nothing makes me close a book more quickly and finally than the creeping realisation that the author is following a narrative map purchased on an American creative writing course. Life is too short for competent novels. The creativity industry pulls up the worst while dragging down the best.

Something similar happens inside professional sport, even though creativity is so obviously linked to performance and profit. Yet sport, especially English sport, has suffered from excessive managerialism. Perhaps guilt about English sport’s amateur legacy gave “professionalism” free rein, however pedestrian its form.

Here is sport’s problem with creativity: professional systems crave control, but creativity relies on escaping control. If an attacking player doesn’t know what he is going to do next, what chance does the defender have?

So when truly unexpected moments do happen, they take on a special lustre. This month, Olivier Giroud scored an unforgettable goal for Arsenal. Bearing down on the goal, he was already launched in mid-air when he realised that the cross was well behind him. With his body far ahead of his feet, Giroud clipped the ball to the top corner of the net with the outside of his left ankle – a so-called scorpion kick.

It was, in retrospect, the only option available to him. Football, for a moment, touched the arts – not only beautiful, but also complete. Nothing could have been added or taken away.

I once tried to compare the perfect cricket shot to Robert Frost’s celebrated description of writing a poem: “It begins in delight, it inclines to the impulse, it assumes direction with the first line laid down, it runs a course of lucky events, and ends in a clarification . . . Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting.”

A great goal, however, fits that poetic model better than a cricket shot. Cricket shots come in many aesthetic grades, but they are all intended as shots. A goal, on the other hand, is more than just a very good pass, only better. There is an act of transformation within the event.

Frost’s acknowledgment of luck (distinct here from fluke) neatly defuses the accusation. Saying that a great goal involved luck does not to diminish it. Many unearned factors must interact with the skill.

“But did he mean it?” some people have wondered about Giroud’s goal. That isn’t the point, either. There wasn’t time. Giroud had solved the problem – to make contact with the ball, however possible, directing it towards the goal – before he was fully conscious of it. That doesn’t make it an accident. The expertise of a striker, like that of a writer, is opportunistic. He puts himself in positions where his skills can become productive. It is a honed ability to be instinctive. “If I’d thought about it, I never would have done it,” as Bob Dylan sings on “Up to Me”, an out-take from Blood on the Tracks.

Pseudo-intellectual? Quite the reverse. There is nothing pretentious about recognising and protecting creativity in sport. Over-literal decoding is the greater threat: instinctive performance needs to be saved from team meetings, not from intellectuals.

Having described a creative goal as unplanned – indeed, impossible to plan – what can coaches do to help? They can get out of the way, that’s a good start. It is no coincidence that the teams of Arsène Wenger, who is sometimes criticised for being insufficiently prescriptive, score more than their fair share of wonder goals.

The opposite arrangement is bleak. A friend of mine, a fly-half in professional rugby union, retired from the game when his coaches told him exactly which decisions to make in the first six phases of every attacking move. In effect, they banned him from playing creatively; they wanted rugby by numbers.

Not everything can be rehearsed. One useful book for coaches scarcely mentions sport – Inside Conducting, by the conductor Christopher Seaman. “I’ve never had much sympathy for conductors who ‘program’ an orchestra at rehearsal,” Seaman writes, “and then just run the program during the performance. There is much more
to it than that.”

Dan Vettori, the rising star among cricket’s Twenty20 coaches, is rare for having the bravery to echo Seaman’s theory. He believes that cricketers are more likely to play well when they feel slightly underprepared. It’s a risk and a fine balance – but worth it.

As I explored here last month in the context of Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky, there is a danger of slotting players into false stereotypes and classifications. Giroud, for example, is slow. Slow yet athletic. That’s an unusual combination and partly explains why he is underrated.

We often think of pace as the central and definitive aspect of athleticism. But speed is just one component of total athletic ability (leave to one side footballing skill). Giroud has an outstanding vertical jump, power and great balance. Because he is big and slow, those athletic gifts are harder to spot.

Management systems overestimate both labels and top-down tactics. A braver policy, pragmatic as well as aesthetic, is to be less controlling: allow opportunity to collide with skill, directed by an open, expert and uncluttered mind. l

Ed Smith is a journalist and author, most recently of Luck. He is a former professional cricketer and played for both Middlesex and England.

This article first appeared in the 12 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's revenge