Labour recognises that it can't build a One Nation country alone

We understand that governments, on their own, cannot fix everything. Families and communities, businesses and trade unions, civic society, and elected leaders at every level must play their part.

Most of those gathered to hear Ed Miliband’s speech at the Labour Party conference in 2012 recognised that under his leadership the party had become an effective and united opposition. They also knew that fresh scandals over top pay, consumer rip-offs and banking sharp practices had vindicated his call for a more responsible capitalism, and that his analysis of the problems facing the squeezed middle and the need for deep reforms in the economy had struck a chord with millions of voters.

But it is only fair to say that some of those present last year in Manchester had doubts about how Ed could draw all this together into an overarching political project.

Those doubts were swiftly dispelled by an extraordinary speech, delivered without notes. Ed Miliband rose to the challenge, as he had done in the past. The theme of his speech, a closely guarded secret until he stood up, was a vision for rebuilding Britain as One Nation: "A country where everyone has a stake; a country where prosperity is fairly shared; where we have a shared destiny, a sense of shared endeavour and a common life that we lead together."

This was not just an audacious land-grab of a phrase once associated with a more compassionate era of Conservative government. Nor was he describing some impossible dream. Instead, the speech addressed, full on, the challenges facing Britain today. 

"Here is the genius of One Nation", he told the Conference:

"It doesn’t just tell us the country we can be. It tells us how we must rebuild. We won the war because we were One Nation. We built the peace because Labour governments and Conservative understood we needed to be One Nation. Every time Britain has faced its gravest challenge, we have only come through the storm because we were One Nation … To overcome the challenges we face, we must rediscover that spirit. That spirit the British people never forgot. That spirit of One Nation."

Since that speech, Ed Miliband and the shadow cabinet have been setting out what this means for our economy, our society, and our politics: a recovery made by and for the many, not the few; a society in which everyone has the opportunity, and the responsibility, to take part; and a party and a democracy that is open to everyone, not the preserve of closed circles or a narrow elite.

The building blocks of One Nation include not only new policies but also a radical process of party reform. Labour is renewing itself as a movement and helping to give a voice to people from every part of Britain and every walk of life. These changes will underpin the next Labour government, so that we can work with citizens, communities, businesses and civil society to meet together the challenges we face together.

Labour has already set out a series of radical new proposals that show how a One Nation government could begin rebuilding Britain, together with the people of our country: policies to get our banks working for our businesses, and our businesses fulfilling their responsibilities to their customers and employees; policies to ensure our public services give young people a fair chance to play their part and our elderly population the dignity and care they deserve; policies for the redesign of our tax and social security system so that everyone pays their fair share and responsibility goes all the way from the bottom to the top; policies to reform and renew our politics so that we can begin to reverse the disaffection and hopelessness that discourages too many from taking part. And of course the Labour Party will have more to say about all this and more before the next election.

The One Nation book we have edited is not about policy, or a blueprint for political reform. Instead, it shows how our policy programme and our campaign for the chance to implement it in government are anchored in people’s everyday lives, experiences, aspirations and struggles. Our values are vividly present in so many of the personal stories and local histories that make up our country. The brilliant, resilient and resourceful people and communities of Britain are ready and eager to play their part in rebuilding our country as One Nation.

But there is also a humility in the vision of One Nation. We understand that governments, on their own, cannot fix everything. This humility, though born in opposition, will continue when we are in government. We know that Labour will not be able to deliver the change Britain needs unless we make it a common endeavour – unless we work with families and communities, businesses and trade unions, civic society and elected leaders at every level. The fundamental renewal of Labour’s values, organisation, and approach to politics and social change, is the most important and transformative part of Ed Miliband’s project.

This is an extract from the introduction to the new book One Nation: Power, Hope, Community

Rachel Reeves is shadow chief secretary to the Treasury and MP for Leeds West

Owen Smith is shadow Welsh secretary and MP for Pontypridd

Workmen fix a Labour Party Conference banner to a fence outside the conference centre on September 21, 2013 in Brighton. Photograph: Getty Images.

Rachel Reeves is shadow chief secretary to the Treasury and MP for Leeds West

Owen Smith is shadow Welsh secretary and MP for Pontypridd

Getty
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Love a good box set? Then you should watch the Snooker World Championships

The game relies on a steady arm, which relies on a steady nerve. The result is a slow creeping tension needs time and space to be properly enjoyed and endured. 

People are lazy and people are impatient. This has always been so – just ask Moses or his rock – but as illustrated by kindly old Yahweh, in those days they could not simply answer those impulses and stroll on.

Nowadays, that is no longer so. Twitter, YouTube and listicles reflect a desire for complex and involved issues, expansive and nuanced sports – what we might term quality – to be condensed into easily digestible morsels for effort-free enjoyment.

There is, though, one notable exception to this trend: the box set. Pursuing a novelistic, literary sensibility, it credits its audience with the power of sentience and tells riveting stories slowly, unfolding things in whichever manner that it is best for them to unfold.

In the first episode of the first series of The Sopranos, we hear Tony demean his wife Carmela's irritation with him via the phrase “always with the drama”; in the seventh episode of the first series we see his mother do likewise to his father; and in the 21st and final episode of the sixth and final series, his son uses it on Carmela. It is precisely this richness and this care that makes The Sopranos not only the finest TV show ever made, but the finest artefact that contemporary society has to offer. It forces us to think, try and feel.

We have two principal methods of consuming art of this ilk - weekly episode, or week-long binge. The former allows for anticipation and contemplation, worthy pursuits both, but of an entirely different order to the immersion and obsession offered by the latter. Who, when watching the Wire, didn’t find themselves agreeing that trudat, it's time to reup the dishwasher salt, but we’ve run out, ain’t no thing. Losing yourself in another world is rare, likewise excitement at where your mind is going next.

In a sporting context, this can only be achieved via World Championship snooker. Because snooker is a simple, repetitive game, it is absorbing very quickly, its run of play faithfully reflected by the score.

But the Worlds are special. The first round is played over ten frames – as many as the final in the next most prestigious competition – and rather than the usual week, it lasts for 17 magical days, from morning until night. This bestows upon us the opportunity to, figuratively at least, put away our lives and concentrate. Of course, work and family still exist, but only in the context of the snooker and without anything like the same intensity. There is no joy on earth like watching the BBC’s shot of the championship compilation to discover that not only did you see most of them live, but that you have successfully predicted the shortlist.

It is true that people competing at anything provides compelling drama, emotion, pathos and bathos - the Olympics proves this every four years. But there is something uniquely nourishing about longform snooker, which is why it has sustained for decades without significant alteration.

The game relies on a steady arm, which relies on a steady nerve. The result is a slow creeping tension needs time and space to be properly enjoyed and endured. Most frequently, snooker is grouped with darts as a non-athletic sport, instead testing fine motor skills and the ability to calculate angles, velocity and forthcoming shots. However, its tempo and depth is more similar to Test cricket – except snooker trusts so much in its magnificence that it refuses to compromise the values which underpin it.

Alfred Hitchcock once explained that if two people are talking and a bomb explodes without warning, it constitutes surprise; but if two people are talking and all the while a ticking bomb is visible under the table, it constitutes suspense. “In these conditions,” he said, “The same innocuous conversation becomes fascinating because the public is participating in the scene. The audience is longing to warn the characters on the screen: ‘You shouldn't be talking about such trivial matters. There is a bomb beneath you and it is about to explode!’”

Such is snooker. In more or less every break, there will at some point be at least one difficult shot, loss of position or bad contact – and there will always be pressure. Add to that the broken flow of things – time spent waiting for the balls to stop, time spent prowling around the table, time spent sizing up the table, time spent cleaning the white, time spent waiting for a turn – and the ability for things to go wrong is constantly in contemplation.

All the more so in Sheffield’s Crucible Theatre. This venue, in its 40th year of hosting the competition, is elemental to its success. Place is crucial to storytelling, and even the word “Crucible” – whether “a ceramic or metal container in which metals or other substances may be melted or subjected to very high temperatures,” “a situation of severe trial”, or Arthur Miller’s searing play – conjures images of destruction, injustice and nakedness. And the actual Crucible is perhaps the most atmospheric arena in sport - intimate, quiet, and home to a legendarily knowledgeable audience, able to calculate when a player has secured a frame simply by listening to commentary through an earpiece and applauding as soon as the information is communicated to them.

To temper the stress, snooker is also something incredibly comforting. This is partly rooted in its scheduling. Working day and late-night sport is illicit and conspiratorial, while its presence in revision season has entire cohorts committing to “just one more quick frame”, and “just one more quick spliff”. But most powerfully of all, world championship snooker triggers memory and nostalgia, a rare example of something that hasn’t changed, as captivating now as it was in childhood.

This wistfulness is complemented by sensory pleasure of the lushest order. The colours of both baize and balls are the brightest, most engaging iterations imaginable, while the click of cue on ball, the clunk of ball on ball and the clack of ball on pocket is deep and musical; omnipresent and predictable, they combine for a soundtrack that one might play to a baby in the womb, instead of whale music or Megadeth.

Repeating rhythms are also set by the commentators, former players of many years standing. As is natural with extended coverage of repetitive-action games, there are numerous phrases that recur:

“We all love these tactical frames, but the players are so good nowadays that one mistake and your opponent’s in, so here he is, looking to win the frame at one visit ... and it’s there, right in the heart of the pocket for frame and match! But where’s the cue ball going! it really is amazing what can happen in the game of snooker, especially when we’re down to this one-table situation.”

But as omniscient narrators, the same men also provide actual insight, alerting us to options and eventualities of which we would otherwise be ignorant. Snooker is a simple game but geometry and physics are complicated, so an expert eye is required to explain them intelligibly; it is done with a winning combination of levity and sincerity.

The only essential way in which snooker is different is the standard of play. The first round of this year’s draw featured eight past winners, only two of whom have made it to the last four, and there were three second-round games that were plausible finals.

And just as literary fiction is as much about character as plot, so too is snooker. Nothing makes you feel you know someone like studying them over years at moments of elation and desolation, pressure and release, punctuated by TV confessions of guilty pleasures, such as foot massages, and bucket list contents, such as naked bungee jumping.

It is probably true that there are not as many “characters” in the game as once there were, but there are just as many characters, all of whom are part of that tradition. And because players play throughout their adult life, able to establish their personalities, in unforgiving close-up, over a number of years, they need not be bombastic to tell compelling stories, growing and undergoing change in the same way as Dorothea Brooke or Paulie Gualtieri.

Of no one is this more evident that Ding Junhui, runner-up last year and current semi-finalist this; though he is only 30, we have been watching him almost half his life. In 2007, he reached the final of the Masters tournament, in which he faced Ronnie O’Sullivan, the most naturally talented player ever to pick up a cue – TMNTPETPUAC for short. The crowd were, to be charitable, being boisterous, and to be honest, being pricks, and at the same time, O’Sullivan was playing monumentally well. So at the mid-session interval, Ding left the arena in tears and O’Sullivan took his arm in consolation; then when Ding beat O’Sullivan in this year’s quarter-final, he rested his head on O’Sullivan’s shoulder and exchanged words of encouragement for words of respect. It was beautiful, it was particular, and it was snooker.

Currently, Ding trails Mark Selby, the “Jester from Leicester” – a lucky escape, considering other rhyming nouns - in their best of 33 encounter. Given a champion poised to move from defending to dominant, the likelihood is that Ding will remain the best player never to win the game’s biggest prize for another year.

Meanwhile, the other semi-final pits Barry Hawkins, a finalist in 2013, against John Higgins, an undisputed great and three-time champion. Higgins looks likely to progress, and though whoever wins through will be an outsider, both are eminently capable of taking the title. Which is to say that, this weekend, Planet Earth has no entertainment more thrilling, challenging and enriching than events at the Crucible Theatre, Sheffield.

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