Ed Miliband speaks at the Labour conference in Brighton last year. Photograph: Getty Images.
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Labour must challenge the myths about decentralisation

Far from creating a postcode lottery, greater localism can lead to lower levels of regional inequality.

When Ed Miliband set out his vision for people-powered services, he was clear that the centralised state cannot diagnose and solve every local problem. Genuine power cannot be transferred to service users if decision-making is hoarded in Whitehall. Jon Cruddas reinforced this when he set out the importance of devolving power to delivering Labour’s ambitions of a more equal and inclusive society.  

This reflects Labour's  defining mission to tackle inequality. The Local Government Innovation Taskforce’s First Report: The case for change, now sets out the underlying case for such a power shift – and why inequality and decentralisation are inherently linked.

The election in 2015 will be an important juncture for our public services – the course pursued after this point will determine whether they can play an effective role in the future in overturning the social determination of poor life chances. The twin pressures of rising demand and shrinking resources are forcing a choice. Either to continue, as this government has largely pursued, the course of salami-slicing Whitehall budgets, squeezing separate services and tinkering around the edges of traditional modes of delivery. This will lead to the decline, retrenchment and residualisation of public services with ever-higher thresholds for use and the termination of some altogether.

The danger is so immediate that this status quo has now become riskier than the second option: fundamental reform. The Taskforce’s report sets out the foundations for how this can be achieved through a new strategy that organises services around places, rather than within departmental silos from the centre replicated in communities. This is based on evidence of what is working already – where innovations are being driven against the flawed logic of a system which constrains the ability of services to adapt to the challenges they are confronted with.

By providing services that are more anchored to local conditions, designed around people’s actual, not perceived needs, they can be more effective. By better enabling services to collaborate and cooperate beyond institutional boundaries they can be more efficient and drive out duplication. And by taking a whole system approach across all services in an area, early intervention can be built in with incentives between services aligned to secure the cashable savings that are required for proper shift away from high cost reaction and towards prevention.

But to realise this strategy will involve dispelling some myths that are often propagated about decentralisation.

Firstly, that it will lead to a postcode lottery in provision. While we must recognise existing variations in a centralised system, our evidence cites international comparators which show higher levels of decentralisation can lead to lower levels of regional inequality. This, combined with evidence that the potential of our big cities outside London is held back by centralisation, would strongly suggest that to achieve greater fairness overall we should pursue decentralisation with determination, as an effective route to social justice.

Secondly, that local structures are not up to the job. Local councils can be prone to weaknesses in a system that largely concentrates power and resource at the centre. Yet failures at the centre occur frequently – the Work Programme and Universal Credit are two examples of centrally managed programmes that are struggling to cope. But when the centre fails this is seen as particular, rather than a reflection of its systemic inability to deal effectively with complexity at scale. Given that all levels of public administration are prone to strengths and weaknesses, a more objective strategy would be based on understanding what level of governance is appropriate for maximising the impact of interventions.

Thirdly, that by decentralising, a Labour government wouldn’t be able to deliver on its agenda everywhere in the country. On the contrary, our approach to a new settlement between the centre and local areas would be based on a clear set of national entitlements as the basis of a devolved approach to ensure people and places are directly empowered as a result. Given that the old levers of a centralised state have reached the limits of their efficacy, a more decentralised statecraft is now a more realistic means of achieving change: in a complex world distance is a hindrance.

The challenge will be to create a reformed approach which enables innovation that can quickly develop, spread and embed – driving success, rather than enshrining aversion to failure. In this way, we can create new routes to meeting the demand pressures and over time seek a sustainable system-shift towards prevention, and ensure a system in which no individual or community is held back from fulfilling their potential. This will be the ultimate test for people-powered services.

Sir Richard Leese is Co-Chair of the Local Government Innovation Taskforce and Leader of Manchester City Council.

The Taskforce’s First Report: The case for change is available here. Their final report is due later this year. 

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Erdogan’s purge was too big and too organised to be a mere reaction to the failed coup

There is a specific word for the melancholy of Istanbul. The city is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. 

Even at the worst of times Istanbul is a beautiful city, and the Bosphorus is a remarkable stretch of sea. Turks get very irritated if you call it a river. They are right. The Bosphorus has a life and energy that a river could never equal. Spend five minutes watching the Bosphorus and you can understand why Orhan Pamuk, Turkey’s Nobel laureate for literature, became fixated by it as he grew up, tracking the movements of the ocean-going vessels, the warships and the freighters as they steamed between Asia and Europe.

I went to an Ottoman palace on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, waiting to interview the former prime minister Ahmet Davu­toglu. He was pushed out of office two months ago by President Recep Tayyip Erdogan when he appeared to be too wedded to the clauses in the Turkish constitution which say that the prime minister is the head of government and the president is a ceremonial head of state. Erdogan was happy with that when he was prime minister. But now he’s president, he wants to change the constitution. If Erdogan can win the vote in parliament he will, in effect, be rubber-stamping the reality he has created since he became president. In the days since the attempted coup, no one has had any doubt about who is the power in the land.

 

City of melancholy

The view from the Ottoman palace was magnificent. Beneath a luscious, pine-shaded garden an oil tanker plied its way towards the Black Sea. Small ferries dodged across the sea lanes. It was not, I hasten to add, Davutoglu’s private residence. It had just been borrowed, for the backdrop. But it reminded a Turkish friend of something she had heard once from the AKP, Erdogan’s ruling party: that they would not rest until they were living in the apartments with balconies and gardens overlooking the Bosphorus that had always been the preserve of the secular elite they wanted to replace.

Pamuk also writes about hüzün, the melancholy that afflicts the citizens of Istanbul. It comes, he says, from the city’s history and its decline, the foghorns on the Bosphorus, from tumbledown walls that have been ruins since the fall of the Byzantine empire, unemployed men in tea houses, covered women waiting for buses that never come, pelting rain and dark evenings: the city’s whole fabric and all the lives within it. “My starting point,” Pamuk wrote, “was the emotion that a child might feel while looking through a steamy window.”

Istanbul is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. In Pamuk’s work the citizens of Istanbul take a perverse pride in hüzün. No one in Istanbul, or elsewhere in Turkey, can draw comfort from what is happening now. Erdogan’s opponents wonder what kind of future they can have in his Turkey. I think I sensed it, too, in the triumphalist crowds of Erdogan supporters that have been gathering day after day since the coup was defeated.

 

Down with the generals

Erdogan’s opponents are not downcast because the coup failed; a big reason why it did was that it had no public support. Turks know way too much about the authoritarian ways of military rule to want it back. The melancholy is because Erdogan is using the coup to entrench himself even more deeply in power. The purge looks too far-reaching, too organised and too big to have been a quick reaction to the attempt on his power. Instead it seems to be a plan that was waiting to be used.

Turkey is a deeply unhappy country. It is hard to imagine now, but when the Arab uprisings happened in 2011 it seemed to be a model for the Middle East. It had elections and an economy that worked and grew. When I asked Davutoglu around that time whether there would be a new Ottoman sphere of influence for the 21st century, he smiled modestly, denied any such ambition and went on to explain that the 2011 uprisings were the true succession to the Ottoman empire. A century of European, and then American, domination was ending. It had been a false start in Middle Eastern history. Now it was back on track. The people of the region were deciding their futures, and perhaps Turkey would have a role, almost like a big brother.

Turkey’s position – straddling east and west, facing Europe and Asia – is the key to its history and its future. It could be, should be, a rock of stability in a desperately un­stable part of the world. But it isn’t, and that is a problem for all of us.

 

Contagion of war

The coup did not come out of a clear sky. Turkey was in deep crisis before the attempt was made. Part of the problem has come from Erdogan’s divisive policies. He has led the AKP to successive election victories since it first won in 2002. But the policies of his governments have not been inclusive. As long as his supporters are happy, the president seems unconcerned about the resentment and opposition he is generating on the other side of politics.

Perhaps that was inevitable. His mission, as a political Islamist, was to change the country, to end the power of secular elites, including the army, which had been dominant since Mustafa Kemal Atatürk created modern Turkey after the collapse of the Ottoman empire. And there is also the influence of chaos and war in the Middle East. Turkey has borders with Iraq and Syria, and is deeply involved in their wars. The borders do not stop the contagion of violence. Hundreds of people have died in the past year in bomb attacks in Turkish cities, some carried out by the jihadists of so-called Islamic State, and some sent by Kurdish separatists working under the PKK.

It is a horrible mix. Erdogan might be able to deal with it better if he had used the attempted coup to try to unite Turkey. All the parliamentary parties condemned it. But instead, he has turned the power of the state against his opponents. More rough times lie ahead.

Jeremy Bowen is the BBC’s Middle East editor. He tweets @bowenbbc

This article first appeared in the 28 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double Issue