How Labour could still save the Royal Mail from privatisation

A pledge by Miliband to renationalise the postal service could scare off potential private investors.

It was all quite a shock. On Friday, as the government announced that potential shareholders in the privatised Royal Mail were already lined up, campaigners were pre-occupied with the ballot for an anti-sell off postal workers strike. A strike that will now come after the post has been privatised, if the government has its way.

But there is one last chance to save the post from a privatisation the public do not want. Step forward, Ed Miliband.

In Brighton last week, Labour conference delegates voted unanimously to bring Royal Mail back into public ownership should Labour win the next election. Hurried press briefings that this would not bind the leadership were followed by shadow business secretary Chuka Ummuna yesterday clarifying that such a pledge would be “irresponsible”.

Yet in the past week, the Labour leader has has proved that, occasionally at least, one can govern from opposition. And on this basis, maybe privatisation of the post is not as inevitable as it seems. Miliband’s conference pledge to freeze energy prizes was derided by Tories and pundits as unworkable. But it did much more than bring the issue to the headlines: it led the energy companies themselves to subsequently decide that Miliband, and not David Cameron, was shaping their future. The front page of the NPower website was updated within 24 hours to read: “Why wait for Ed?”, as the power giant offered its customers the chance to set their prices until 2017.

It’s something few opposition leaders have managed – but Ed is no stranger to setting the terms of debate. The scene was set by his early display against News International, when the Labour opposition forced the government to commit to the public, judge-led inquiry that became Leveson. There have since been numerous other areas in which Miliband could have used his acumen and judgment to make the Tories fight on his terms, but instead we have only seen a deafening silence. Labour’s economic arguments still centre around “getting the deficit down”, the line pioneered by Cameron, and vehemently opposed by Labour, before the 2010 election. But the policy pledges in last week’s conference speech were at least encouraging. Now, faced with a privatisation that 67 per cent of the public oppose, it is surely time for Miliband to act again.

The government’s brag that shareholders were waiting in the wings was intended to present the privatisation as a fait accompli. But we forget that no money has changed hands – and potential investors rarely take kindly to hearing their purchases will be snatched away.

Yet despite Miliband’s willingness to challenge the ‘vested interests’ of big business, public ownership remains a toxic phrase among Labour high command. The party’s official history implies that it only regained power in 1997 due to abandoning its policy of nationalisation. But not a single hand went up against the motion at Labour Party conference that called for renationalisation of the post. In the past, Labour leaders from Wilson to Blair ignored party conference decisions on the grounds they would not be popular with the wider public. But as politicians of all parties have drifted away from the realities of ordinary people’s lives, Labour conference now more often proposes policies that could well regain trust and support from voters.

One voice warning against a renationalisation pledge is postal expert David Stubbs. He told the Scotsman that Alex Salmond’s pledge to take the Scottish arm of the post into public ownership in the event of independence would have the “immediate effect… to depress the value even further.” Imagine the effect of a Labour pledge to take it back wholesale. What sort of investor would sign on the dotted line then?

Unfortunately, though Miliband has demonstrated himself well capable of taking on vested interests and winning, he has yet to recognise that sometimes his party's grassroots might just have it right. That he has only just pledged to scrap the bedroom tax – after months of dithering - suggests that the party’s policy process has failed to listen to party members and councillors who have been protesting since the penalty was first mooted.

Time is running out to save Britain from the devastating service that comes with privatised post, with the transfer of stock expected by 15 October. Pledging to re-nationalise would be a risk, but Miliband has taken those before: and if potential investors run scared like the energy companies, it wouldn’t cost a penny.

A worker walks past a row of vans at the Mount Pleasant sorting office on September 12, 2013 in London. Photograph: Getty Images.

Conrad Landin is a freelance journalist and associate editor of Left Futures. Follow him on Twitter @conradlandin.

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Is there such a thing as responsible betting?

Punters are encouraged to bet responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly.

I try not to watch the commercials between matches, or the studio discussions, or anything really, before or after, except for the match itself. And yet there is one person I never manage to escape properly – Ray Winstone. His cracked face, his mesmerising voice, his endlessly repeated spiel follow me across the room as I escape for the lav, the kitchen, the drinks cupboard.

I’m not sure which betting company he is shouting about, there are just so many of them, offering incredible odds and supposedly free bets. In the past six years, since the laws changed, TV betting adverts have increased by 600 per cent, all offering amazingly simple ways to lose money with just one tap on a smartphone.

The one I hate is the ad for BetVictor. The man who has been fronting it, appearing at windows or on roofs, who I assume is Victor, is just so slimy and horrible.

Betting firms are the ultimate football parasites, second in wealth only to kit manufacturers. They have perfected the capitalist’s art of using OPM (Other People’s Money). They’re not directly involved in football – say, in training or managing – yet they make millions off the back of its popularity. Many of the firms are based offshore in Gibraltar.

Football betting is not new. In the Fifties, my job every week at five o’clock was to sit beside my father’s bed, where he lay paralysed with MS, and write down the football results as they were read out on Sports Report. I had not to breathe, make silly remarks or guess the score. By the inflection in the announcer’s voice you could tell if it was an away win.

Earlier in the week I had filled in his Treble Chance on the Littlewoods pools. The “treble” part was because you had three chances: three points if the game you picked was a score draw, two for a goalless draw and one point for a home or away win. You chose eight games and had to reach 24 points, or as near as possible, then you were in the money.

“Not a damn sausage,” my father would say every week, once I’d marked and handed him back his predictions. He never did win a sausage.

Football pools began in the 1920s, the main ones being Littlewoods and Vernons, both based in Liverpool. They gave employment to thousands of bright young women who checked the results and sang in company choirs in their spare time. Each firm spent millions on advertising. In 1935, Littlewoods flew an aeroplane over London with a banner saying: Littlewoods Above All!

Postwar, they blossomed again, taking in £50m a year. The nation stopped at five on a Saturday to hear the scores, whether they were interested in football or not, hoping to get rich. BBC Sports Report began in 1948 with John Webster reading the results. James Alexander Gordon took over in 1974 – a voice soon familiar throughout the land.

These past few decades, football pools have been left behind, old-fashioned, low-tech, replaced by online betting using smartphones. The betting industry has totally rebooted itself. You can bet while the match is still on, trying to predict who will get the next goal, the next corner, the next throw-in. I made the last one up, but in theory you can bet instantly, on anything, at any time.

The soft sell is interesting. With the old football pools, we knew it was a remote flutter, hoping to make some money. Today the ads imply that betting on football somehow enhances the experience, adds to the enjoyment, involves you in the game itself, hence they show lads all together, drinking and laughing and putting on bets.

At the same time, punters are encouraged to do it responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly. Responsibly and respect are now two of the most meaningless words in the football language. People have been gambling, in some form, since the beginning, watching two raindrops drip down inside the cave, lying around in Roman bathhouses playing games. All they’ve done is to change the technology. You have to respect that.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war