What's so bad about a Blue Peter economy anyway?

If Cameron was referring to an economy that takes apart the assumptions and bad habits which led to the problems of the past, that might be seen as a sign of progress.

I wasn't a huge fan of any of the leaders' speeches this year. Miliband attempted grand and defining statements with all the vigour of a schoolboy revolutionary. In response, Cameron seemed to deliberately take a more restrained tone – the result being one part 'statesman', two parts 'grandad'.

But, speechcraft and delivery aside, the real issue was that the speeches pandered to the same old partisan debates: "Red Ed" vs. economic stoicism, public spending vs. public taxes, hard workers vs. other hard workers. In their predictableness, neither caused much of a stir beyond the dwindling numbers of party members present.

As usual, the most innovative debates were on the fringe. One of the most vibrant discussions took the form of the social economy alliance, a movement of entrepreneurs, activists, investors and campaigners. While such a consortium might sound like the material for a bad joke, the effect was that the re-hashed divisive policy debates were cast aside in favour of fresh approaches to the social and economic problems that have been found to be the most pressing of our generation. From energy to public spending, banking to local services, the discussions highlighted the successes of these high-growth, profitable and investment-ready enterprises that work not only in the interests of society (which any job-generating business purports to do), but for tangible social impact. Together they form economic solutions that are genuinely different to the tedious left-right refrains.

Rather than being devoid of tradition and ideology, however, I would argue that the growing social economy movement draws on proud heritage from across the political spectrum, from principles of economic subsidiarity to the lessons from the 1980s venture capital market, the Rochdale pioneers to pre-enlightenment virtue ethics and gift exchange. Again, a counter-intuitive combination, but at a time when trust in the ‘business as usual’ models has hit rock bottom, these ideas are at the very least a curious alternative.

It is clear the old models aren’t working, so what is wrong with crafting new models and new structures? This is why I failed to appreciate Cameron’s point in deriding a "Blue Peter economy". Is it even an insult? If it is an economy which takes apart the assumptions and bad habits which led to the problems of the past, then I don't see anything wrong with that. Perhaps a Blue Peter metaphor would do better to highlight a high trust base, creativity and pursuit of fulfilment, or the values that inspire young people to be active citizens?

The social economy has the potential not only to capture but to realise these ideals, and whilst it is increasingly recognised by and inspiring a generation of young people (university graduates in particular), the parties are missing a trick by not talking about it.  Because living standards are not something passively received by people. The Reaganite tack of comparing people's circumstances to how they were five years ago is fundamentally flawed in that, when asked to consider their living standards, it the personal things which people remember: achievement and loss and grief and celebration, on a local scale which factors in social networks and relationships, not what the state does or doesn't do. And for the right, ambition and opportunity is not just about tax cuts, it is also about personal opportunities and the opportunities to change your lived experiences from one day to the next. Profit is good, but only if that profit makes a social and economic difference on a local, tangible level. This is a leader’s speech-in-waiting.

In terms of the agenda for social economy movement itself, there is still a lot to be done to achieve coherence and public recognition. Ed Miliband had it right in practice but not in principle when he produced clearly packaged retail offers for the 2015 election that describe the added value for people as consumers. This is what this movement should be working towards, and the party that capitalises on this potential for fresh and genuine approaches is one that will find themselves having struck electoral gold.

Caroline Macfarland is the founder of CoVi (Common Vision), a new visual think tank which uses film and interactive media to produce innovative, shareable ideas about politics, economics and society

David Cameron delivers his speech at the Conservative conference in Manchester earlier this week. Photograph: Getty Images.

Caroline Macfarland is manging director of ResPublica

Getty
Show Hide image

This election has sparked a weird debate – one in which no one seems to want to talk

 The noise level hasn’t risen above a low gurgle in the background.

If this is a general election in which the tectonic plates are shifting, they’re the quietest tectonic plates I’ve ever heard. All the parties are standing on pretty radical platforms, yet the noise level hasn’t risen above a low gurgle in the background, like a leaking tap we can’t be bothered to get fixed.

Big issues are being decided here. How do we pay for care, or health, or education? How do we square closed borders with open trade, and why isn’t anyone talking about it? Democracy is on the line, old people are being treated like electoral fodder, our infrastructure is mangled, the NHS is collapsing around us so fast that soon all that’s left will be one tin of chicken soup and a handful of cyanide capsules, and we face the prospect of a one-party Tory state for decades to come. All this and yet . . . silence. There seem to be no shouts of anger in this election. It’s a woozy, sleepy affair.

I knew something was afoot the moment it was called. Theresa May came out of No 10 and said she was having an election because she was fed up with other parties voting against her. No one seemed to want to stand up and tell her that’s a pretty good definition of how functioning democracy works. Basically, she scolded parliament for not going along with her.

Why were we not stunned by the sheer autocratic cheek of the moment? With news outlets, true and fake, growing in number by the day, why was this creeping despotism not reported? Am I the only one in a state of constant flabbergast?

But the Prime Minister’s move paid off. “Of course,” everyone said, “the real argument will now take place across the country, and we welcome,” they assured us, “the chance to have a national debate.”

Well, it’s a pretty weird debate – one in which no one wants to talk. So far, the only person May has debated live on air has been her husband, as Jeremy Corbyn still wanders the country like an Ancient Mariner, signalling to everyone he meets that he will not speak to anyone unless that person is Theresa May. Campaign events have been exercises in shutting down argument, filtering out awkward questions, and speaking only to those who agree with every word their leader says.

Then came the loud campaign chants – “Strong and stable” versus “The system’s rigged against us” – but these got repeated so often that, like any phrase yelled a thousand times, the sense soon fell out of them. Party leaders might as well have mooned at each other from either side of a river.

Granted, some others did debate, but they carried no volume. The Ukip leader, Paul Nuttall, achieved what no one thought possible, by showing the country that Nigel Farage had stature. And there’s a special, silent hell where Tim Farron languishes, his argument stifled at every turn by a media bent on quizzing him on what sort of hell he believes in.

Meanwhile, the party manifestos came out, with titles not so much void of meaning as so bored of it that they sounded like embarrassed whispers. Forward, Together; The Many Not the Few; Change Britain’s Future: these all have the shape and rhythm of political language, but nothing startles them into life. They are not so much ­clarion calls as dusty stains on old vellum. Any loosely connected words will do: Building My Tomorrow or Squaring the Hypotenuse would be equally valid. I still pray for the day when, just for once, a party launches its campaign with something like Because We’re Not Animals! but I realise that’s always going to stay a fantasy.

Maybe because this is the third national vote in as many years, our brains are starting to cancel out the noise. We really need something to wake us up from this torpor – for what’s happening now is a huge transformation of the political scene, and one that we could be stuck with for the next several decades if we don’t shake ourselves out of bed and do something about it.

This revolution came so quietly that no one noticed. Early on in the campaign, Ukip and the Conservatives formed a tacit electoral pact. This time round, Ukip isn’t standing in more than 200 seats, handing Tory candidates a clear run against their opponents in many otherwise competitive constituencies. So, while the left-of-centre is divided, the right gets its act together and looks strong. Tory votes have been artificially suppressed by the rise of Ukip over the past few elections – until it won 12.6 per cent of the electorate in 2015. With the collapse of the Ukip vote, and that party no longer putting up a fight in nearly a third of constituencies, Theresa May had good reason to stride about the place as cockily as she did before the campaign was suspended because of the Manchester outrage.

That’s why she can go quiet, and that’s why she can afford to roam into the centre ground, with some policies stolen from Ed Miliband (caps on energy bill, workers on company boards) and others from Michael Foot (spending commitments that aren’t costed). But that is also why she can afford to move right on immigration and Brexit. It’s why she feels she can go north, and into Scotland and Wales. It’s a full-blooded attempt to get rid of that annoying irritant of democracy: opposition.

Because May’s opponents are not making much of this land-grab, and because the media seem too preoccupied with the usual daily campaign gaffes and stammering answers from underprepared political surrogates, it falls once again to the electorate to shout their disapproval.

More than two million new voters have registered since the election was announced. Of these, large numbers are the under-25s. Whether this will be enough to cause any psephological upsets remains to be seen. But my hope is that those whom politicians hope to keep quiet are just beginning to stir. Who knows, we might yet hear some noise.

This article first appeared in the 25 May 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Why Islamic State targets Britain

0800 7318496