How Labour is preparing for a coalition with the Lib Dems

Shadow ministers have been encouraged to look for "points of agreement" with the party and to consider constitutional reforms that would appeal.

To win a majority at the next election, both Labour and the Conservatives will need to defy recent history. No governing party has increased its share of the vote since 1974; no opposition has achieved an overall victory at the first attempt for more than 80 years. Faced with these odds, it is unsurprising that many on both sides consider another hung parliament the likeliest outcome in 2015. 

Earlier this week, the Telegraph reported that David Cameron is preparing for a second coalition with the Lib Dems by discussing new rules to allow Tory MPs to vote on a new power-sharing agreement. Impressed by the discipline of Nick Clegg’s backbenchers compared with that of his truculent troops, Cameron wants his party’s hands "dipped in blood".

But what of Labour? In my politics column in this week's NS, I reveal that the party is making its own preparations for another hung parliament. One shadow minister recently told me that he had been encouraged to look for "points of agreement" with the Lib Dems and to consider constitutional reforms that would appeal to the party, citing the example of proportional representation for local elections. One of the concessions made by Labour when it entered coalition with the Lib Dems in Scotland in 1999 was the introduction of the Single Transferable Vote for local council elections and many Lib Dem activists now believe the party should have pushed for similar reform for England during the coalition negotiations in 2010. 

Labour MPs have also been struck by the increasing degree of policy overlap between the two sides and improved personal relations. In recent months, Labour has called for the introduction of a mansion tax on property values above £2m, a 2030 decarbonisation target for electricity, the removal of Winter Fuel Payments from the wealthiest 5 per cent of pensioners and higher capital investment (in preference to a temporary VAT cut) funded by a rise in borrowing. Earlier this week, it committed to a reduction in the voting age to 16. What all of these policies have in common is that they have all either been proposed or championed by the Lib Dems. This is far from the only motive for their adoption but Miliband and Balls are too astute not to know that this shift will greatly enhance their chances of striking a deal with the third party in 2015. One of the most popular reads among Labour MPs this summer is Andrew Adonis's 5 Days in May in which the Labour peer and former transport secretary laments the party's failure to prepare for the 2010 hung parliament and urges it to not to repeat this error. His advice has not been ignored. 

In response to the voting age pledge, Lib Dem MP Stephen Williams remarked: "If we can bank that as an agreement then if the next parliament does result in an inconclusive election, which I think is quite likely, the more issues that we know in advance that we're likely to agree on will make the negotiations swifter." His parliamentary colleagues are saying much the same thing. If the Tories want the Lib Dems to gift them the majority they will surely fall short of in 2015 (the party needs a seven point lead over Labour on a uniform swing), they should start to think just what baubles they could offer Cable and co. 

Nick Clegg and Ed Miliband attend a ceremony at Buckingham Palace to mark the Duke of Edinburgh's 90th birthday on June 30, 2011 in London. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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Would you jump off a cliff if someone told you to? One time, I did

I was walking across the bridge in Matlock park, which is about 12 feet high, with a large group of other kids from my year, in the pouring rain.

Ever heard the phrase, “Would you jump off a cliff if they told you to?” It was the perpetual motif of my young teenage years: my daily escapades, all of which sprang from a need to impress a peer, were distressing and disgusting my parents.

At 13, this tomboyish streak developed further. I wrote urgent, angry poems containing lines like: “Who has desire for something higher than jumping for joy and smashing a light?” I wanted to push everything to its limits, to burst up through the ceiling of the small town I lived in and land in America, or London, or at least Derby. This was coupled with a potent and thumping appetite for attention.

At the height of these feelings, I was walking across the bridge in Matlock park, which is about 12 feet high, with a large group of other kids from my year, in the pouring rain. One of the cool girls started saying that her cousin had jumped off the bridge into the river and had just swum away – and that one of us should do it.

Then someone said that I should do it, because I always did that stuff. More people started saying I should. The group drew to a halt. Someone offered me a pound, which was the clincher. “I’m going to jump!” I yelled, and clambered on to the railing.

There wasn’t a complete hush, which annoyed me. I looked down. It was raining very hard and I couldn’t see the bottom of the riverbed. “It looks really deep because of the rain,” someone said. I told myself it would just be like jumping into a swimming pool. It would be over in a few minutes, and then everyone would know I’d done it. No one could ever take it away from me. Also, somebody would probably buy me some Embassy Filter, and maybe a Chomp.

So, surprising even myself, I jumped.

I was about three seconds in the air. I kept my eyes wide open, and saw the blur of trees, the white sky and my dyed red hair. I landed with my left foot at a 90-degree angle to my left ankle, and all I could see was red. “I’ve gone blind!” I thought, then realised it was my hair, which was plastered on to my eyes with rain.

When I pushed it out of the way and looked around, there was no one to be seen. They must have started running as I jumped. Then I heard a voice from the riverbank – a girl called Erin Condron, who I didn’t know very well. She pushed me home on someone’s skateboard, because my ankle was broken.

When we got to my house, I waited for Mum to say, “Would you jump off another cliff if they told you to?” but she was ashen. I had to lie that Dave McDonald’s brother had pushed me in the duck pond. And that’s when my ankle started to throb. I never got the pound, but I will always be grateful to Erin Condron. 

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser