Watching Ed Miliband, I had a strange new feeling: I think it's called "hope"

. . . and it only got better when I saw Grant Shapps, president of the unofficial second job society, squirming and whimpering on the Daily Politics.

George Monbiot recently suggested that journalists should be more accountable and declare interests. I will take this a step further and declare a lack of interest. It is a lack of interest in Ed Miliband and Labour, which has been steadily increasing over the last three years and recently has verged on catatonia. Imagine my surprise, then, at finding myself gripped by his speech today.

Not only did he suggest bold, decisive and positive solutions to the way in which the Labour party interacts with unions, appearing to be on the front foot finally on this issue, but he took the opportunity to make radical – if still rather general – proposals on MPs having second jobs and declared interests, and a cap on individual party donations. I experienced a very strange and unfamiliar feeling in the pit of my stomach. Initially I mistook it for indigestion, but it turned out to be hope for the future.

Over the last few days, as the debate meandered on about events in Falkirk, very little could be heard over the shrill, disingenuous crowing of Tory grandees and the distinctive heavy vehicle beeping of Labour backing up. There was much speculation about what the correct strategic manoeuvre might be; how the damage might be minimised for the party; whether this move or that move constituted a more elegant method of political suicide.

There was very little discussion about what was the right thing to do. There was very little analysis of whether there was something to UNITE’s stated aim of getting more working people into Parliament – however warped the method of achieving it became in Falkirk. In truth, the aim of getting a more diverse cross section of representation into the House of Commons is something we should all be demanding of the leaders of all political parties.

The 650 people who vote for legislation which impacts our lives should be a representative sample of the UK – not a representative sample of a W1 private members’ club. The fact that a union representing millions of workers would be reduced to Machiavellian politicking and backroom dodgy deals to achieve that should give us all pause for thought. As a symptom of the disease; not a proxy for it.

That we have a system in which Andrew Lansley – while Shadow Health Secretary – can accept a substantial private donation from the wife of the owner of one of the biggest private healthcare providers and make it a non-issue by simply declaring it, should be a cause for general concern. That Tim Yeo, a former Environment Minister, can earn more than twice his MP's salary from green energy firms, while chairing the Energy and Climate Change Parliamentary Committee, should be a source of general outrage.

My feeling of hope was confirmed by the spectacle of Grant Shapps, president of the unofficial second job society, squirming and whimpering on BBC2’s Daily Politics. He put me in mind of Bill Paxton’s character in Aliens, looking at his motion radar, whining “Eight metres. Seven metres. That’s inside this room. This can’t be happening, man. Game over, man. GAME OVER.” Questioned repeatedly about MPs having outside jobs (under any pseudonym cough-Michael-Green-cough) and about a cap on donations, all he could say was: “That’s not what this row was about; actually not the issue today at all; it’s about rigging elections; not donations.” Yet another politician apparently confusing what they were briefed on with what is important.

Of course, the devil is in the detail, many a slip ‘twixt cup and lip, don’t count your chickens before they hatch, actions speak louder than words; a multitude of bumper-sticker caveats apply. However, one must applaud the general thrust of what Ed Miliband had to say today. Whatever my opinion of him, whatever my feelings about the union movement, whatever I think of the Labour Party, whether I think this is the smart move politically or not, I feel I owe him a big fat “thank you” for putting these issues back on the agenda. Especially so, when he does it at considerable political and financial risk.

Ultimately, our survival as a civilised society will not be determined by the odd specific policy, or by poll ratings, or Wimbledon Championships. It will be determined by whether there are people at the top willing to contemplate the previously not-thought-of, say the previously unutterable, debate the taboo and consider changes in areas seen as sacrosanct. It is an attitude as vital in opposition as it is in government. And I believe politicians are either the sort that will stick their head above the parapet or won’t. I may vehemently disagree with Miliband on a multitude of issues, but at least I now know which of the two he is.

[Editor's Note: This piece was amended at 12.52pm on 10 July 2013. An incorrect reference to Tim Yeo earning money from the Renewable Energy Association was removed, as this position is unpaid.]

Grant Shapps: They're coming through the walls! Montage: Dan Murrell

Greek-born, Alex Andreou has a background in law and economics. He runs the Sturdy Beggars Theatre Company and blogs here You can find him on twitter @sturdyalex

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One Day Without Us reveals the spectre of Britain without immigration

Imagine a country without its NHS workers, its artists and even its consumers. That's why immigrants are striking today. 

What’s the best way of making yourself heard in politics? Protesting in the street, or contacting the media? Writing to politicians? A badge?

One option, of course, is to walk out - and give people a chance to recognise what they’d be missing if you weren’t there. In the labour movement, that’s long been an option – a last-case option, but an option nevertheless – when your contribution isn't being recognised.

A strike is a tit-for-tat negotiation and a warning shot. “I’ll work properly when you employ me properly”, it says, but simultaneously: “Here’s what you’d lose if I stopped”. Done right, the worker’s absence can shift the power balance in their favour.

Normally, people strike according to their role, in pursuit of certain conditions – the tube strikes, or last year’s teacher's strike.

Yet there is also a long and rich history of walk-outs whose terms are broader and boundaries hazier. One of the most famous is surely the 1975 Women's Strike, in Iceland, during which 90 per cent of the country's women refused to participate in either paid or unpaid work.

In 2016, the formula was repeated in Poland, where women went on strike to protest against a draconian change being proposed to the country's already-strict abortion laws. (It worked.)

Immigrant strikes, too, have a history. In 2006, for instance, a coalition of Los Angeles Catholic groups, unions and immigration reform groups proposed a boycott in opposition to a bill which, among other things, called for new border security fences to be built between America and Mexico. (Ahem.)

The action grew to become a national event, and on May 1, the “Great American Boycott” took place, with immigrants from Latin America and elsewhere leaving work, skipping school and refusing to buy or sell goods.

Now, with Donald Trump in the White House and Brexit looming, some have decided it’s time for another strike. Enter “One Day Without Us”.

Today, immigrants here in Britain will strike not for pay conditions or holiday allowances, but for basic recognition and respect. Across the country, businesses will close and immigrants will leave work, many of them to take place in alternative actions like rallies or letter-writing campaigns.

The name of the protest pulls no punches. This, it says, is what it would be like if we all went away. (Subtext: “like some of you want”.)

Because – and let’s be honest here – it’d be bad. In hospital this summer, I was treated by migrants. After 24 hours in NHS, I took a count, and found that only about one in five of the staff who had treated me were identifiably English. Around 4.6 per cent of NHS staff nationally are from the EU, including 9 per cent of doctors. Immigrants clean buildings, make our food, and provide a whole host of other vital services.

One Day Without Us, then, could do Britain a huge favour - it provides us with a quick preview function before anyone ups and leaves for good, taking the heart of our health service, or our food supplies, with them.

In recognition of this, some businesses are actively giving their workers the day off. One 36-year-old owner of a support services company, for instance, is giving her staff a paid holiday.

“Not all my colleagues are taking up the offer not to come in”, she explained. “Some, both British and foreign-born, would prefer to work. That’s fine, I wanted to give colleagues the freedom to choose.

 “It will cause some inconvenience and I’ve had to explain to clients why we aren’t offering all our services for one day, but I feel doing this is the only way to show how much this country relies on migrants. I may be a businesswoman, but I’m a human being first, and it hurts my heart to see how foreign-born colleagues are being treated by some people in the current political climate."

The woman, whose staff is 65 per cent foreign born, has asked her company not to be identified. She’s heard her staff being abused for speaking Polish.

Of course, not everyone is able to walk out of work. I write this from Chicago, Illinois, where last week activists participated in an American predecessor to One Day Without Us called “Day Without Immigrants”. Type “Day Without Immigrants" into Google followed by the word "Chicago" and you will find reports of restaurants closing down and citizens marching together through the city.

But search for just "Day Without Immigrants", and the top stories are all about participants being fired.

One Day Without Us, then, encourages any form of engagement. From human chains to sessions during which participants can write to their MP, these events allow immigrants, and supporters, to make themselves known across the country.

Businesses and museums, too, are involved. The Tate, for instance, is offering free tours showing visitors artworks created or influenced by migrants, showing Londoners which of the paintings that they’ve seen a dozen times only exist because of immigration.

Because paintings, like people, come from everywhere, whether or not you remember. Britain is a mongrel country, and so its art and culture are as mongrel as its workforce: a persistent thread through the country’s history.

We risk a lot forgetting this. At its best, assimilation provides a way of integrating without forgetting one’s own unique identity. In a world where immigrants risk threats or violence, however, invisibility can be the best option. For some, it is better not to be recognized as an immigrant than be abused as one.

Those of us who don’t risk threats have a duty to recognise this. I dislike the glibness of “we are all migrants” – maybe, technically, but we’re not all getting slurs shouted at us in the high street, are we? Still, I also don’t like anyone forgetting the fact that their existence, in all probably, is contingent on someone once being given clemency in a place that was their own. The movement of people is woven into the fabric of society.

Of course, it is impossible to say how successful One Day Without Us will be, or how many people’s lives will be directly affected. But I hope that, even as a gesture, it works: that people think of what would be missing from their lives without immigration.

We ignore it at our peril.

You can view all the One Day Without Us events on the organisers’ website, or contribute to a fund to support businesses which are closing for the day here.

Stephanie Boland is digital assistant at the New Statesman. She tweets at @stephanieboland