The Secret Cuts: Part Three, The Bedroom Tax

Continuing their series on the Coalition's secret cuts, Alan White and Kate Belgrave find out how the introduction of the "bedroom tax" is affecting people's lives.

This post is about the bedroom tax and the fight against it in different parts of the country. It features tenants who are battling the tax in Merseyside and Manchester. Kate spent several weeks in the north-west talking to people in March before the tax was introduced and then again last week, to see how they’d dealt with it since its April implementation.

It is a tax: cruel and absurd in equal parts, as you’ll see. Forget Iain Duncan Smith’s deceitful claims about “under-occupancy” and “fairness” - this sort of thing: on the Andrew Marr Show in March he said: "We have in social sector housing a very large number of people in houses where they have many more bedrooms than they actually need. Meanwhile, there are a quarter of a million people in overcrowding and a million people on the waiting list trying to get into housing."

As far as Smith was concerned, that justified forcing social housing tenants to pay 14 per cent more a week for one "spare" room, and 25 per cent for two or more – or telling them to downsize into smaller properties (properties that are few and far between: False Economy data from 107 local authorities shows that 86,000 households have been forced to look for one-bedroom homes, of which only 33,000 have become available in the past year). Non-payment rates are very high. In May, the Independent reported a major increase in the number of people applying for discretionary housing payments to help cover rents. So much for Duncan Smith’s big idea.

There’s only one conclusion you can reach here. This is not about savings, or Smith’s peculiar housing redistribution fantasy, or addressing the housing shortage (only building more homes will do that). This is an all-out attack on social housing tenants and on the notion of social housing - the idea that everybody (even people who aren’t well-off) should have decent housing. It’s an assault on a group of people who have been abandoned by mainstream politics. It’s an attack on people who who are castigated for needing any state support at all.

(And in case you’re wondering how IDS lives as he imposes this tax - here’s a video of his weekend place taken during a recent UK Uncut/Disabled People Against Cuts occupation to protest the bedroom tax.)

*

You only need five minutes at the Friary centre in West Everton to understand why people who live in social housing here are nervous about the tax and their future as social housing tenants. They are surely sitting on prime real estate. The whole place screams Location. Liverpool city centre is only 20 minutes' walk away. Homes face a very large piece of grass which would easily house swanky cafes. It looks a developer’s dream. The two women who spend the morning talking to the NS - both local social housing tenants - certainly think so. They are clear on the reasons why the Haves would want them out and where the bedroom tax could ultimately land them.

“It's prime land – it's right on top of the city centre,” Ann Roach, community development worker for families on the West Everton community council, says. “The [tax means that] housing associations will end up with all these four-bedroom places, because they were “underoccupied”. Now them kids are getting moved out (because of the tax). The flats will get knocked down and it'll be apartments here and apartments there. People used to come over and say “Wow, it's beautiful where you live” and I'd say, “It won't be for long. It's too nice to be ours.”

Roach and Jill are long-time social housing tenants. They are not quite of state pension age. Jill is affected by the bedroom tax and Roach worries that she’ll have housing problems if she ever loses her job. She does not expect to find another job at her age.

We don’t give Jill’s full name because like many, she’s worried that her housing association (HA) will target her if she makes her opposition to the tax known. It’s easy to see why people have this concern. HAs are pursuing the money hard. At least one Liverpool HA was doorstepping people for the money a mere month after the tax was introduced - and asking for the names of tenants we were speaking to about the tax. That HA was at pains to say it only wanted the names so it could “help” people who were struggling - but tenants don't trust that. Why, as tenants regularly say, would they trust the same organisations that are sending them payment demands?

The other concern people have is that social services will remove children from parents who are found to be struggling due to the extra cost. People say this a lot. “Nobody wants social services butting their noses into people's business, because it's a danger game when a mother hasn't got enough money to feed her kids properly,” Jill says. “She's going to starve herself to make sure her kids are fed. You're hearing about kids being taken away when they shouldn't be.”

Jill has to deal with the bedroom tax herself and she’s finding it difficult. She's older, not in good health and she’s on a disability benefit. Her husband is also unwell. She’s furious that they must pay the bedroom tax on a bedroom “that's seven foot by nine foot - they're calling that a bedroom.” She thinks of her house as “a two-bedroom house with a boxroom as a storage area.”

She and her husband are older people who should be relaxing into later life, not desperately trying to find a few extra quid a week to stay housed. “I had my kids in that house. I've been 28 years in that place.” She adds: “I can see my daughter's front window just out of my back just over that door, so there's a house between us. She can wave to me from her back garden and that's how it should be. That's the old way. That was the way that we were brought up.”

That’s a problem here. The Government has moved the goalposts for these people in a sadistic way. These women were housed at a time when the agreement was that you got your home for life as long as you looked after it. Which is what they did. They fought for that housing. Roach brings out pictures of the slums that people once lived in here:.

You can see the crumbling walls and doors, rubbish and masonry strewn across streets, wet washing hanging along damp walls. Local people campaigned for improvements – and won them. “We always had to to fight for everything,” Roach says. “The one thing that I thought was safe for my kids was the fight for these houses. I thought my kids won't have to fight, because I've got somewhere safe for them.”

Which brings us to our next point. This tax targets people who know how to fight for improvements and rights as a community - older people like Roach and Jill, who campaigned for better housing and now work in a community centre that runs bedroom tax surgeries and provides hot meals for people who can’t afford them. Many of the people at the largely tenant-led bedroom tax meetings across Merseyside are middle-aged or older. They've been in the same homes for many years and have so-called “spare” rooms because their circumstances have changed (often their kids have grown up and left). Because they’ve been around for a while, they have networks in their neighbourhoods, contacts and a lot of experience in seeing off threats. You can see exactly why politicians of all stripes would want to target them with a bedroom tax and break them up.

They’re fighting the tax. They’re appealing bedroom sizes and either paying nothing, or paying a small amount off the top of the tax. As housing consultant Joe Halewood says in the video below of a recent Garston-Speke tenants’ meeting: “Housing associations are shitting themselves at the levels of non-payment.” Many people can’t afford to pay. As Halewood also says, pushing housing associations and councils is the only option tenants have. He also makes an interesting point about the devastating impact that the national introduction of the overall benefit cap will have.

John, an unemployed 56-year-old man to whom Kate has been talking for several months, says that has hasn't paid anything yet. He's putting any money he can find aside each week so that he can say he's made an attempt to find the money if and when he’s asked for it. A woman called Sal is in appeal and is paying a small sum off each week. Sean, who has been in his house for 25 years and has two “spare” bedrooms is also in appeal. Edie “didn’t pay anything” for some time and then started paying £10 a week. She has one “spare” room, which she needs because “I have my grandson with me (he’s eight). He was in care and he clings towards me. So he’s there.”

So people fight it. No one else will (these videos by activist and artist Tracey Dunn show Dingle bedroom tax protestors marching on the town hall earlier this year). The Labour party's abject failure to fight the tax and pledge to overturn it is a major topic at meetings and in discussions with tenants. People want no-eviction and no-collection policies, as well they should. “Where are the councillors?” was an angry refrain at tenants’ meetings in March. “I don’t hold out any hopes for the Labour party whatsoever. These are the buggers that introduced the Welfare Reform Act for Christ’s sake,” said Speke tenant Jo during a long interview last week. We asked Liverpool, Salford and Manchester councils for comment on bedroom tax evictions policies. Manchester said: “it is unlikely any council will be able to follow through with an idea of a no-eviction policy.” The others have yet to respond). Unite community organiser Sheila Coleman was clear about the fallout for Labour on its lacklustre response. In this video, she tells tenants that “the value of a union involvement in this is not to go along with it, but to say to people running the unions - stop funding Labour MPs. Stop funding them.”

This is a tenant-led movement. All political groups need to note this.

*

In other cases the “one-size-fits-all” nature of the policy is inappropriate to the point of absurdity.

This is a video of Tria Hall, a disabled woman and anti-bedroom tax activist in Manchester who, like other disabled tenants in her new block, was moved into a two-bedroom flat from a one-bedroom flat not long before the tax was implemented. Here, she shows us around her flat.

Tria has Ehlers-Danlos syndrome - a degenerative condition. She was moved into this new adapted flat because the new flat is adapted for someone with a disability. It has a wet room with handrails. Plug sockets and light switches are at wheelchair height.

Tria had to wait for several years for the flat to be built. Kate first met her in her old flat in 2010. It was a freezing place, with ill-fitting doors and windows that let in the winter air. Tria was pleased to move and had looked forward to it – and then, about six months in, found out that the bedroom tax was coming her way. “We never asked for two-bedroom flats. They just moved us in.” In the video you’ll see her explaining why the Government’s “answer” to the problem - take in a lodger - simply won't work for her. Just after we spoke to her, she was awarded a discretionary housing payment.

You find a lot of people who were moved to their flat for a reason. Sometimes, that “reason” was to save the state money. Take Jo. She lives in Speke in a two-bedroom housing association flat. She's been there for about 13 years. She was moved there so she could care for her elderly mother who lives nearby.

She goes to her mother's house about three times a day: “I’m like the on-site janitor - if the electricity goes off, I’m the one that’s on call...I’ll cook if she wants anything cooking, I’ll push the hoover round, whatever she needs doing.” She has saved the state thousands of pounds in carers’ fees. But now she tells us:  “[The bedroom tax] is how I’m served for doing that...They don’t care where you find [that money]. They don’t care if you’re on the bones of your arse.”

Despite all the work she does for her mother, Jo is disabled herself. She had no idea how she'd manage to pay for that “spare” bedroom out of her small benefit. Her housing association had phoned her and asked if she wanted to take in a lodger, but as in Tria Hall’s case, she had health reasons for not wanting that.

Jo says she was “so desperate” to find money to pay the bedroom tax that she decided to apply to Liverpool City Council for a discretionary housing payment. To her relief, she was awarded one - about £11 a week which is paid directly to her housing association. She thinks that she was awarded that money because she is caring for her mother. That DHP payment will last for just for six months, though, and three of those months have already gone.

In May, officers of Jo’s housing association (accompanied, for dubious reasons, by a Police Community Support Officer), called at her house, and dropped this letter through her letterbox. Digest its implications for a moment.

Kate phoned the housing association - South Liverpool Homes - about this at the time. A spokesman told her the Pay Your Bedroom Tax Now letter-drop merely coincided with a regular community meet-and-greet exercise that SLH calls “Walkabout Wednesdays.” As Kate wrote in May:

That's one interpretation of last week's event. Another interpretation – it's certainly one that went through the minds of our tenant contacts (and our minds, for that matter) -  is that tenants are being doorstepped for this bedroom tax money, a mere month after the tax was introduced.

According to a letter Jo received from the council, she'll have to “make alternative arrangements” to pay her bedroom tax and council tax shortfalls when her DHP runs out, or - “find cheaper accommodation.” Jo is not sure what that means. She assumes that her circumstances won't change in six months. She'll still need to be near her mother, to care for her.

*

People also see their houses as homes. As well they might.

This is a picture of the letter that campaigner Maria Brabiner’s mother was sent when she finally secured her council house, into which her family moved in October 1978, when Maria was just 13.

It was a joyous moment. Before then, Maria’s family had lived in squalid conditions - Maria, her mother and brother shared a single, damp room with no electrics in Higher Broughton. Years later, in 2005, Maria gave up her job to become a full-time carer for now-elderly mother. She’d worked all her life and had savings to live on while caring. Maria’s mother died in 2010, so she was able to get back to paid work.

She tells us:

The first I’d heard about [the bedroom tax] was when it got its royal assent about 12 months ago. And it still didn’t sink in - I thought, well I’m bound to get a job. I wasn’t claiming job seekers’ allowance, I was still living off my savings, because the carer’s allowance didn’t pay for National Insurance contributions, so I wasn’t entitled to anything. I thought I’d been out of work for 12 months, but I’d be bound to get a job in another 12 months.

Despite a good history in office work, she’s been unable to find employment. Her savings have gone. All she has left is the house she’s lived in most of her life and the support of the people in her community, many of whom she’s known for decades.

But she’s fighting the tax. She’s been much in the press and organises meetings for people who are affected. Kate attended one of the meetings she organised in Broughton in June. It was a good meeting - but it was telling that the Salford councillors who were invited did not show up. Here are tenants and activists holding up “Wish You Were Here” signs for them:

Attendees were furious - there was much discussion about Labour talking, but not acting - but they were pleased about a triumph that campaigners had the day before. They'd managed to stop an eviction at the Manchester courts by turning up in numbers to protest.

“That's the only way we'll defeat it,” campaigner Ron Senchak told the meeting. Senchak had represented the woman who'd been facing eviction as she wasn't eligible for legal aid. “We have to do it ourselves. We can’t rely on politicians.”

Maria's is one in a sea of similar stories. The Samaritans have been ­training housing workers to cope with tenants left ­suicidal by the Bedroom Tax, after being approached by Riverside Housing Association on Merseyside after a spike in callers at the end of their tethers. Last month, the first suicide was directly connected to the reform, and this month we heard of another attempt.

If it looks like a tax and smells like a tax, it’s a tax and it’s hitting the poorest hardest. People face homelessness all over. Wonder if IDS and the inlaws take lodgers in that nice place of theirs.

Some tenants’ names have been changed or withheld

You can read more articles from Alan White and Kate Belgrave's Secret Cuts series here

Many social housing tenants in Merseyside and Manchester are struggling since the introduction of the bedroom tax. Photograph: Getty Images
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How Jeremy Corbyn won the Labour leadership election

The revolt against the leader transformed him from an incumbent back into an insurgent. 

On the evening of 12 July, after six hours of talks, Jeremy Corbyn emerged triumphantly from Labour’s headquarters. “I’m on the ballot paper!” he told supporters gathered outside. “We will be campaigning on all the things that matter.”

The contest that Corbyn’s opponents had sought desperately to avoid had begun. Neither a vote of no confidence by 81 per cent of Labour MPs, nor 65 frontbench resignations had persuaded him to stand down. Days of negotiations led by Tom Watson had failed (“For years I’ve been told that I’m a fixer. Well, I tried to fix this and I couldn’t,” Labour’s deputy leader sorrowfully told the parliamentary party). The rebels’ last hope was that the National Executive Committee would force Corbyn to reseek nominations. After being backed by just 40 colleagues in the confidence vote, both sides knew that the leader would struggle to achieve 51 signatures.

But by 18-14, the NEC ruled that Corbyn would be automatically on the ballot (“Watson, Watson, what’s the score?” chanted jubilant aides in the leader’s office). After withstanding a 16-day revolt, Corbyn appeared liberated by the prospect of a summer of campaigning. His confidence prefigured the outcome two months later.

Corbyn did not merely retain the leadership - he won by a greater margin than last time (with 61.8 per cent of the vote to last year's 59.5 per cent) and triumphed among all three sections: party members, affiliated supporters and registered supporters. The rebels had hoped to narrow his mandate and win among at least one group: they did neither. Far from being a curse for Corbyn, the contest proved to be a blessing. 

***

The day before the pivotal NEC meeting, Angela Eagle, who had been preparing to stand for months, launched her leadership bid. The former shadow business secretary was admired by MPs for her experience, tenacity, and economic acumen. Her trade union links and soft left background were further cited in favour of her candidacy.

But after an underwhelming launch, which clashed with Andrea Leadsom’s withdrawal from the Conservative contest (leaving Eagle calling questions from absent journalists), MPs gravitated towards Owen Smith.

Like Eagle, Smith hailed from the party’s soft left and had initially served under Corbyn (two prerequisites in the rebels’ eyes). But unlike her, the former shadow and work pensions secretary did not vote for the Iraq war (having entered parliament in 2010) or the 2015 Syria intervention. “It looks like the war party,” a senior Corbynite said of Eagle’s campaign launch with Hilary Benn. Many Labour MPs feared the same. With the left-leaning Lisa Nandy having ruled herself out, only the ambitious Smith met the criteria.

“I’d been in hospital for two days with my brother, who was unwell, in south Wales,” he recalled when I interviewed him.  “I came out having literally been in A&E at Cardiff Heath hospital for 29 hours, looking after him, to have my phone light up with 30, 40, 50 colleagues, MPs and members, ringing up saying ‘there’s going to be a contest, Angela Eagle has thrown her hat into the ring, you should do likewise.’ And at that point, on the Wednesday night, I started ringing people to test opinion and found that there was a huge amount of support for me.”

On 19 July, after Smith won 90 MP/MEP nominations to Eagle’s 72, the latter withdrew in favour of the Welshman. A week after the Conservatives achieved their second female prime minister, Labour’s 116-year record of all-male leaders endured. Though Smith vowed that Eagle would be “at my right hand throughout this contest”, she went on to appear at just one campaign event.

Corbyn’s challenger was embraced by MPs as a “clean skin”, untainted by service during the New Labour years. But Smith’s non-parliamentary past was swiftly - and ruthlessly - exploited by his opponents. His time at the US drugs firm Pfizer was cited as evidence of his closeness to big business. Corbyn’s supporters also seized on interviews given by Smith as a by-election candidate in 2006.

The man pitching to the left was found to have defended Tony Blair (suggesting that they differed only over the Iraq war), supported private sector involvement in the NHS and praised city academies. “I'm not someone, frankly, who gets terribly wound up about some of the ideological nuances,” he told Wales Online. Such lines were rapidly disseminated by Corbyn supporters through social media.

“Getting out early and framing Owen was crucial,” a Corbyn source told me. A Smith aide echoed this assessment: “It helped secure their base, it took a load of people out of contention.”

Throughout the campaign, Smith would struggle to reconcile his past stances with his increasingly left-wing programme: opposing private provision in the NHS, returning academy schools to local authority control, banning zero-hours contracts and imposing a wealth tax of 1 per cent. “It was easy for us to go for the jugular over his background when he portrayed himself as a left candidate,” a Corbyn source said.

Smith insisted that the charge of opportunism was unmerited. “To be honest, my opponents have extrapolated rather a lot in an attempt to brand me as a ‘Blairite wolf in sheep’s clothing,’” he told me in August. “Well, I’m nothing of the sort, I’ve always been a democratic socialist and I always will be.” He added: “I’m someone who’s been surrounded by people who’ve been on the left of the Labour movement all their lives. It should come as no surprise that I’ve come out of that background and I’m pretty red. Because I am.”

But a former shadow cabinet colleague said that Smith did not stand out as “a radical” in meetings. “The only time that I remember him becoming really animated was over further tax-raising powers for Scotland and the implications for Wales.”

As well as Smith’s ambiguous past, Corbyn’s allies believe the breadth of his political coalition hindered him from the start. “He was trying to bring together Blairites, Brownites and every other -ite in between,” a campaign source said. “That was never going to hold, we knew that and from the moment there were splits it was easy to point out.”

Jon Trickett, the shadow business secretary and one of Corbyn’s early supporters, told me: “They tried to pretend that there was no distinction between them and Jeremy on policy grounds, they tried to narrow down the areas of difference to electability. But, frankly, it didn’t seem credible since some of the people behind it were absolutely ideologically opposed to Jeremy. Peter Mandelson and people like that.”

A frequently expressed charge was that Smith’s left-wing pledges would be overturned by Blairite figures if he won. John McGeechan, a 22-year-old postgraduate student who joined Labour after “self-indulgent, self-serving MPs initiated their corridor coup”, told me of Smith: “He’s just another mealy-mouthed careerist who says whatever he thinks is going to get him elected. I don’t believe at all that he means what he says about creating a radical socialist government given that he’s got the backing of Peter Mandelson, Alastair Campbell and Tony Blair, people who’ve disagreed with Corbyn on pretty much all his socialist policies. I don’t believe that he’s going to stand up to these people.”

Whether believable or not, Smith’s programme showed how Corbyn had shifted Labour’s centre of gravity radically leftwards - his original aim in June 2015.

***

On the night Corbyn made the leadership ballot, the rebels still found cause for hope. Unlike in 2015, the NEC imposed a freeze date of six months on voting (excluding 130,000 new members) and increased the registered supporter fee from £3 to £25 (while reducing the sign-up period to two days). “It’s game on!” a senior figure told me. By narrowing the selectorate, Corbyn’s opponents hoped to achieve a path to victory. With fewer registered supporters (84 per cent of whom voted for Corbyn last year), they believed full party members and affiliated trade unionists could carry Smith over the line.

But when 183,000 paid £25 to vote, their expectations were confounded. Far from being “game on”, it looked to many rebels like game over. Once again, Corbyn’s opponents had underestimated the left’s recruiting capacity. Smith’s lack of name recognition and undistinctive pitch meant he could not compete.

Alongside the main contest were increasingly fractious legal battles over voting rights. On 28 July, the high court rejected Labour donor Michael Foster’s challenge to Corbyn’s automatic inclusion on the ballot. Then on 8 August, a judge ruled that the party had wrongly excluded new members from voting, only for the decision to be overturned on appeal.

In the view of Corbyn’s allies, such legal manevoures unwittingly aided him. “They turned Jeremy, who was an incumbent, back into an insurgent,” Trickett told me. “The proponents of the challenge made it seem like he was the underdog being attacked by the establishment.”

Smith, who repeatedly framed himself as the “unity candidate”, struggled to escape the shadow of the “corridor coup”. That many of his supporters had never accepted Corbyn’s leadership rendered him guilty by association.

“The coup had an enormous galvanising effect and an enormous politicising effect,” a Corbyn source told me. “For a great number of people who supported Jeremy last year, there was a feeling, ‘well, we’ve done the work, that’s happened, now over to him.’ What the coup meant for a lot of people was that this isn’t about Jeremy Corbyn, this is a people’s movement, which we all need to lead.” The Corbyn campaign signed up 40,000 volunteers and raised £300,000 in small donations from 19,000 people (with an average donation of £16). Against this activist army, their rivals’ fledgling effort stood no chance.

“At the launch rally, we had 12 simultaneous events going on round the country, livestreamed to each other,” a Corbyn source said. “We had a lot of communication with people who were big in the Sanders campaign. In the UK context, it’s trailblazing.”

On 12 August, after previously equivocating, Smith ruled out returning to the shadow cabinet under Corbyn. “I've lost confidence in you. I will serve Labour on the backbenches,” he declared at a hustings in Gateshead. In the view of Corbyn’s team, it was a fatal error. “He shot apart his whole unity message,” a source said.

Smith, who initially offered Corbyn the post of party president, was rarely booed more than when he lamented Labour’s divisions. As one of the 172 MPs who voted against the leader, he was regarded as part of the problem, rather than the solution. By the end, Smith was reduced to insisting “I wasn’t in favour of there being a challenge” - a statement that appeared absurd to most.

As well as his leftist credentials and unifying abilities, Smith’s other main boast was his competence and articulacy. “HIs USP was that he was this media-savvy guy,” a Corbyn source said. “As a result, he threw himself up for any and every media opportunity and made tons of gaffes. We just made sure people were aware of them.”

The most enduring gaffe came early in the campaign, on 27 July, when he spoke of wanting mto “smash” Theresa May “back on her heels”. Though Smith initially defended his “robust rhetoric” (“you’ll be getting that from me”), by the afternoon his campaign had apologised. What was explained as a “rugby reference” dogged them for weeks. “It played into the hands of how Corbyn wanted to depict us,” a Smith source told me. “It was really hard to shake off.”

More unforced errors followed. Smith suggested getting Isis “round the table”, in anticipation, many believed, of Corbyn agreeing. But the Labour leader baulked at the proposal: “No, they are not going to be round the table”. Corbyn’s communications team, more organised and agile than in 2015, denounced Smith’s remarks as “hasty and ill-considered”. As with “smashed”, the Labour challenger had achieved rare cut-through - but for the wrong reasons.

Smith’s rhetorical looseness became a recurring problem. At a rally on 23 August, he appeared to refer to Corbyn as a “lunatic”. In an interview with the Daily Mirror, he said of meeting his wife: “1,200 boys, three girls and I pulled Liz. So I must have something going on. That must be leadership.”

Earlier in the campaign, Smith’s team denied that the candidate referred to the size of his penis when he quipped of his height: "5ft 6. 29 inches - inside leg!” The guffaws from his supporters suggested otherwise.

We used to have a gaffe counter,” a Corbyn source told me. “I think it got up to 30 by the end.”

Smith’s team, meanwhile, despaired at how the Labour leader’s own missteps failed to dent him. The discovery that Corbyn had in fact secured a seat on a Virgin train, contrary to initial impressions, did little lasting damage. “It’s priced in, the bar is much lower for him,” a Smith source complained.

Incorrect claims, such as Labour being level in the polls before the coup attempt and Corbyn giving 122 speeches during the EU referendum campaign, were believed by many of his supporters. “How do you rebut bullshit?” a Smith aide asked. “If you respond, it becomes a story.”

So frequently had Labour MPs condemned their leader that extraordinary charges were soon forgotten. On 22 August, shadow business minister Chi Onwurah wrote in the New Statesman that Corbyn’s treatment of her and Thangam Debbonaire could constitute “racial discrimination”.

If this had been any of my previous employers in the public and private sectors Jeremy might well have found himself before an industrial tribunal for constructive dismissal, probably with racial discrimination thrown in,” she argued. But within a day, the story had moved on.  

For Smith, fleeting momentum was achieved through significant endorsements. On 10 August, the GMB backed his campaign after becoming the only trade union to ballot its members. The following week, Labour’s most senior elected politician, Sadiq Khan, endorsed Smith. Unlike Andy Burnham, the London mayor believed he could not remain neutral during this profound schism. Smith was subsequently also backed by the Scottish Labour leader, Kezia Dugdale. Neil Kinnock and Ed Miliband trumpeted his cause. Yet such declarations counted for little. “It’s like the Remain campaign and the Archbishop of Canterbury,” one Smith ally told me, suggesting that Labour members, like Leave voters, ”weren’t listening” to such grandees.

But in the view of Corbyn’s team, the rebels profoundly “underestimated” their opponent. “He’s a nice guy but he also has an inner steel and won't flinch from a challenge. The Obi-Wan Kenobi comparison is very accurate when you work up close with him. He’s also extremely intelligent and has a great grasp and retention of detail. It showed in the debates.”

“I have to say, I felt pretty sorry for Owen at several points,” another Corbyn source reflected. “Whatever it was, his ambition or being pushed into it, it didn’t seem like it was the right time for him. He hadn’t worked out what he was about and why that fitted with the times.”

***

Those Labour MPs who long warned that an early challenge to Corbyn would prove futile have been vindicated. “Party members are always loyal to the incumbent,” a senior source astutely noted. In the case of Corbyn, a lifelong campaigner, who many contended was “never given a chance”, this traditional fealty was intensified.

“Most of the people backing and funding him didn’t think Owen was going to win,” a Corbyn source said. “Their aim was, one, to reduce Jeremy’s mandate and, secondly, to map the selectorate.”

Having won a second leadership contest - an unprecedented achievement for the Labour left - the leader’s supporters insist their ambitions do not end here. “We’ve got to think incredibly seriously about how we win a general election in a totally changed landscape,” a Corbyn source told me. “This campaign has been showing how to do it.” But a Smith aide warned that it was a “massive strategic error” to make electability, rather than principle, the defining test of Corbyn. The leader, he suggested, could withstand a general election defeat provided he simply affirmed his values.

Beyond regarding a split as worthless, Labour MPs are divided on how to proceed. Some want another leadership challenge as early as next year. Rather than seeking to narrow the selectorate, they speak of recruiting hundreds of thousands of new members to overpower the left. “There are lots of people out there who want a credible, electable, centre-left proposition and we have not given them enough of a reason to sign up,” a former shadow cabinet minister told me. “Who has an offer and the charisma to be able to bring in new people? That has to be the question the next time round.”

Others believe that backbenchers should follow Thumper’s law: “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.”  A senior MP argued that MPs should “just shut up” and “let Jeremy crack on with it.” The imperative, he said, was to avoid MPs “taking the blame for us getting thumped in a snap election”. Some are prepared to move beyond neutrality to outright support by serving under Corbyn.

The Labour left and their most recalcitrant opponents both confront challenges of electability. The former must demonstrate a path to victory despite Corbyn’s subterranean poll ratings. The latter, who boast so often of their superior appeal, must face a remorseless truth. Until they are electable in the party, they will never be electable in the country.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.