David Cameron has Miliband on his mind and nothing new to say

Cameron’s speech failed to address the underlying challenge that the opposition leader posed: how and when should government intervene in private markets that are failing to deliver for voters?

Before the Tory conference, I was told by someone in Downing Street that the core strategic message of the week would be much the same as last year. The Conservatives are clearing up Labour’s mess, repairing Britain’s economy to equip the nation for competition in the global race, serving the aspirations of all, etc. I notice that the same message has been briefed ahead of Cameron’s speech closing the conference today. It was meant to be a restatement of the core Tory mission, not a drastic departure from the traditional script. Heavy on heart-warming metaphors, light on ideas. The easy sequel. Global Race II: Land of Opportunity.

Tory strategists know they need a policy response to Labour’s charge that the government is presiding over a cost-of-living crisis. As I wrote last week, the plan has always been to address that in announcements on a grid running up to the autumn statement later this year. (George Osborne’s pledge to prolong the freeze on fuel duty was just a taster.) Yet plainly Downing Street has been rattled by Miliband’s offer to cap energy bills – or rather, by the way it threatened to trap the Tories into batting for utility companies instead of promising to protect consumers.

As a result Cameron’s speech today included a number of references to Miliband – including a dreadful joke about keeping the lights on – without really addressing the underlying challenge that the opposition leader posed: how and when should government intervene in private markets that are failing in a way that weighs heavily on domestic finances of voters? The Prime Minister ended up confirming that Miliband was on his mind without apparently having anything new to say.

Most of the speech was a rehearsal of well-established Conservative arguments, restored with some new metaphors. The strongest passage was the defence of welfare reform as a moral mission to restore self-reliance and self-confidence to people who have been written off as unable or unwilling to work. Labour will hate that, of course, and point to the gross iniquities of coalition benefit cuts and the incompetent delivery of Iain Duncan Smith’s Universal Credit. But it remains the case that the Tories have something like a political monopoly on determination to “fix” the benefits system and Ed Miliband still hasn’t done enough to dispel the impression that his party just wishes the issue would go away. It won't. The one new policy nugget in Cameron's speech was a promise that a majority Tory government would further limit access to benefits for under-25s.

The core proposition in the speech – insofar as there was one – appears to be that Labour offers ill-judged, desperate, debt-ramping quick fixes drawn from a policy well that was poisoned in the 1970s, while Tories carefully and maturely lay the foundations for long-term growth and prosperity from which all shall benefit, regardless of race, colour or creed. Britain is brilliant. British businesses are brilliant. Tories understand that. The left doesn’t, which is why they hate oak trees, or something like that.

A central part of the strategy appears to be trading on the public's remarkable tolerance of austerity and the perception that it is working as an approach to restoring economic growth. Hence the pledge to reach a surplus by 2020. Labour may have queasily promised to exert fiscal discipline of its own in the next parliament – even offering to have manifesto plans vetted by the Office for Budget Responsibility – but so far Ed Balls shows no intention of chasing George Osborne any further down that road. The Conservatives will mobilise all the figurative devices they used in 2010 to police the fiscal dividing line. The debt crisis isn’t over; the spectre of Greek tragedy still looms, the credit card must never be maxed out again; Labour’s fingers itch to turn the taps on. And so on.

There is surely some political mileage in that attack. But what was missing from Cameron’s message was a distinct or really credible account of how fiscal discipline turns into good times for the many. The tone and ambition were studiously optimistic, the offer itself was nebulous. The rationale appears to be that sorting out Labour’s mess is the pre-requisite for growth and investment, which creates jobs, which can in turn be filled by people who are emancipated from welfare dependency or educated in Michael Gove’s magnificent new schools. This is really an elaborate retelling of orthodox Conservative ideology: government will take care of the budget fundamentals, offer essential services, keep spending to a minimum and the market will take care of the rest. I'm confident many people in the conference hall agree with that proposition. I’m less sure it contains the basis of a campaign that will get the Tories to a majority in parliament at the next general election.

Cameron delivers his keynote speech in Manchester. Image: Getty

Rafael Behr is political columnist at the Guardian and former political editor of the New Statesman

Cameron in Nuneaton. Photo: Getty
Show Hide image

Why fewer of us want a long-term relationship ... with a political party

In 2015, 38 per cent of voters backed a different party to the one they supported in 2010. So what does the rise of swing voters mean for British politics?

For decades political parties have competed furiously for one of the great prizes of British politics: the affections of the swing voter. It wasn’t that long ago that there were relatively few political swingers: until the 1990s, fewer than a quarter of voters would switch parties from one election to the next.

Yet that once relatively rare breed is becoming increasingly common, which means party campaigners are going to have to come up with new tactical thinking. The British Election Study survey panels, conducted episodically over the last fifty years, are unique in that they are able to track the same voters from one election to the next, unlike more conventional opinion polls that only look at a snapshot of voters at a given time. Using these studies, you can identify the percentage of voters who switch their vote from one party to another between each pair of elections since 1966 when such data was first collected.

In 1966 only around 13 per cent of voters had changed their minds since the previous election in 1964. Since then, the proportion of swingers has been steadily increasing, and by 2015, 38 per cent of voters backed a different party to the one they supported in 2010.

The increase in swing voters is pretty consistent. The only exceptions are between February and October 1974, when (understandably) fewer voters changed their minds in eight months than switched in the preceding four years, and between 1997 and 2001, when the electoral dominance of New Labour under Tony Blair held back the tide for a time. These two exceptions aside, the increase has been constant election-on-election.

A lot of vote shifting can go on even between elections where the overall result remains stable. In 2001, for example, more people switched votes than in any election before 1997, with a surprising level of turmoil beneath the surface stability. While these largely cancelled out on that occasion, it set the stage for more dramatic changes in the parties’ votes later on.

So British voters now seem more likely than ever to jump from party to party. But who exactly are these swingers? Are they disillusioned former party loyalists? Or have British voters simply stopped getting into a serious relationship with the parties in the first place? We can get some insight into this using data from the yearly British Social Attitudes Survey, looking at the number of respondents who say that they do not identify with any of the political parties (party identifiers tend to switch much less often) when they are asked ‘Generally speaking, do you think of yourself as a supporter of any one political party?’ and then ‘Do you think of yourself as a little closer to one political party than to the others?’ if they say no to the first question. The graph below combines data from 1984 to 2013. Each line represents people who were born in a different year. Higher lines mean that there are more people who do not identify with a political party. So, for instance, voters born in 1955 started with very low levels of non-identification (22 per cent), which have gradually risen to 44 per cent in the latest survey. Most of the lines on the graph go up over time, which shows that almost all generations are falling out of love with the parties.

However, an acquired taste in swinging among the older generations is dwarfed by the promiscuous younger generations – shown by the dashed lines – most of whom never form an attachment to a party at all. Each generation in the data has been less committed to the parties than the previous generation was at the same age, with around 60 per cent of the youngest generation – those born since 1985 – expressing no attachment to any political party.

Since most of this change has been a generational shift, it may be a long road back for the parties. Loyalty to parties is often handed down in families, with children inheriting their parents’ commitment to a party. Now that this process has broken down, and younger generations have lost their attachment to parties, they may in turn pass on this political detachment to their children.

The majority of younger voters have simply never grown up with the idea of getting into a long-term relationship with a political party, so they may never settle down. Many Labour MPs were outraged when it turned out that lots of the new members who joined up to vote for Jeremy Corbyn had voted for the Green Party just a few months before, but this may simply reflect the political approach of a generation who see parties as needing to earn their vote each time rather than commanding lasting, even unconditional loyalty.

If Britain’s newfound taste for swinging isn’t going to disappear any time soon, what does it mean for party competition? In the past most people had settled partisan views, which seldom changed. General elections could be won by attracting the relatively small group of voters who hadn’t made up their minds and could very easily vote for either of the two main parties, so political parties based their strategies around mobilising their core voters and targeting the few waverers. While they worried about traditional loyalists not turning up to the polls, the parties could be assured of their supporters’ votes as long as they got them to the voting booth.

Nowadays, swing voters are no longer a small section of the electorate who are being pulled back and forth by the parties, but a substantial chunk of all voters. This helps to explain why politicians have been so surprised by the sudden rise of new parties competing for groups previously thought to be reliable supporters. The new parties that have entered British politics have also allowed voters to express their views on issues that don’t fall neatly into traditional left– right politics such as immigration (UKIP) or Scottish independence (the SNP). This in turn has posed a dilemma for the traditional parties, who are pulled in multiple directions trying to stop their voters being tempted away.

This may just be the start. If the number of swing voters stays this high, the parties will have to get used to defending themselves on multiple fronts.

This is an extract from More Sex, Lies and the Ballot Box, edited by Philip Cowley and Robert Ford.