Tony Benn arrives to lay a wreath at the Cenotaph at a ceremony on August 17, 2009. Photograph: Getty Images.
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Thanks to Ed Miliband, Tony Benn died at peace with Labour

With Miliband as leader, Benn finally felt at home again in the party he served for so long.

In his ninth and final volume of diaries A Blaze of Autumn Sunshine (2013), Tony Benn predicted that he would not live to see the election of another Labour government. Sadly, this great democrat, socialist and internationalist has been proved right today. 

It was Labour that Benn, the son and grandson of Liberal MPs, devoted his political life to. He was elected as the MP for Bristol South East in a by-election in 1950 (becoming the "Baby of the House") and served almost continuously until 2001 (becoming the "Father of the House"). Despite his friendships with Communists and Trotskyists, he never abandoned his belief in Labour as the indispensable vehicle for socialism. 

At several points in history, there were many in the party who wished he had. Many never forgave him for his decision to challenge Denis Healey for the deputy leadership in 1981 (losing by just 0.8 per cent), in defiance of Michael Foot's appeal to unity, and for his refusal to "compromise with the electorate". By far the harshest words said about Benn today will be from his foes on the left, not those on the right. 

That Benn, unlike many of his comrades, chose to remain in the party throughout the New Labour era was partly because he refused to recognise Tony Blair as its leader. As he said many times, he regarded New Labour as a "new political party" - a quasi-Thatcherite sect that led Britain into illegal wars (he most commonly described Blair as a "war criminal"), demonised asylum seekers and privatised parts of the public realm that even the Conservatives dared not touch. Benn never left Labour - but he felt as if Labour had left him. 

He said of Blair last year: "We as a party had suffered greatly from the influence of Mr Blair. He was a man who became leader because he was a successful campaigner, but I don’t think he was ever truly a Labour man. The war in Iraq was a crime and now he has been put in charge of achieving peace in the Middle East, which obviously lacks any credibility. Labour had to get beyond Blair in order to ever have credibility with the electorate again. That’s what I think we are achieving now."

But with the election of Ed Miliband, who interned in his basement office at 16 and whose father he knew well, he finally felt at home again in the party. Unlike Blair and other New Labour figures, who treated him as an embarrassing uncle or simply ignored him all together, Miliband was prepared to embrace him as a fellow friend of democracy and socialism. I remember a touching moment at the Compass conference in 2009 when Miliband, speaking brilliantly without notes (the first time I witnessed that now-famous feat), referred with pride to Benn's presence in the front row and the hall erupted in applause. 

After his preferred leadership candidate John McDonnell failed to make the ballot in 2010, Benn happily endorsed Miliband as "the best candidate", one who cleansed the stains left by Blair. Following his first speech as leader he wrote: "It was a remarkable speech: it was based on his own experiences, and those of his parents during the war, and it will have an appeal well beyond the Labour party. His words on optimism were also important because the media concentrate on spreading pessimism about everything, claiming that new ideas won't work – so, instead of working to improve their lives, people can be dissuaded from making the effort. This speech will help to build up people's confidence in him. I've known him since he was a teenager – he came and worked for a month with me after his O-levels. I supported him for leader and he's justified every hope I had."

More recently, he praised Miliband's pledge to scrap the bedroom tax and his "vigorous" defence of his father. Asked last year whether he believed he could be the next prime minister he replied: "Of course. And he would be a very good one. I’m not in the business of predicting election results as that is always a very foolish thing to do. Whether or not he is left wing is not the point. The point is that he is a trustworthy and capable man that people respond to."

There could be no greater tribute to Benn than for Miliband to now fufil those hopes - and lead Labour to victory next year. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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When the world seems dark and terrifying, we shouldn’t feel ashamed to dream of Utopia

Right now, the future seems dark and frightening and it is precisely now that we must continue to imagine other worlds and then plot ways to get there.

There are many cruel and routine lies we tell to children but perhaps the most indicative is this: if you tell anyone your wish, it won’t come true. This parable was probably invented by parents trying to avoid the trauma of not being able to give their children what they want but we carry it with us to adulthood, when it is repeated to us by our leaders. Don’t tell anyone the sort of world you would like to see – at best you’ll be disappointed and at worst you’ll be arrested.

“We want more.” This week, exhausted by the news, I dragged myself out of the house to a book fair, where I came across a new collection of utopian fiction by radical women. That was the first line and it stopped my breath in my throat. When basic survival seems like a stretch goal, caught as we are between the rich and the rising seas, hope feels like an unaffordable luxury. The precise words I used to the bookseller were, “Shut up and take my money.”

There has never been a more urgent time for utopian ideas, precisely because the concept of a better world has never felt further away. Right now, world leaders are deciding how many cities are going to sink before something is done to reduce carbon emissions. They are meeting in Paris, which very recently saw the opening scene of a new act in everyone’s least favourite dramatic franchise, “War in the Middle East”. We seem to be living in a dystopian trilogy scripted by a sadistic young-adult author and I very much hope that our plucky young heroes show up to save the day soon, even if there’s a clunky love triangle involved.

Dystopias are easy to construct: to paraphrase the novelist Kim Stanley Robinson, you might as well pick five news headlines at random, make a collage and there’s your plot. Utopias are harder. Utopias require that we do the difficult, necessary work of envisioning a better world. This is why imagination is the first, best weapon of radicals and progressives.

Utopian stories existed long before the word was coined by Thomas More in the 16th century to mean an ideal society, or “no-place”. Plato’s Republic has some claim to being the first but there are as many Utopias as there are communities that dreamed of a better life. The greatest age of utopian fiction was the turn of the last century and it is no accident that the early 21st century is a great age of dystopian fiction. The ideology of late-capitalist patriarchy has become so all-encompassing that it no longer looks like ideology. Fredric Jameson observed, “It is easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism” – and the reason for that is not that capitalism is the inevitable destiny of humankind but that we have spent our lives being told that even thinking about any other future makes us ridiculous.

Most leftists do have an idea of the sort of world they would prefer to see. We don’t say what we want for the same reason that we were told as children not to tell anyone else what we wished for – because it’ll be awkward and painful if we don’t get it.

When I think about Utopia, I think about my grandmother. My mother’s mother left school at 13, lived through the Maltese blockade and was obliged by religion and circumstance to marry young, suffocate all her dreams of education and adventure and spend her life taking care of a husband and six kids. Half a century later, I can choose when and whether to have children. I can choose to live independently from men. I regularly travel alone and there are no legal restrictions on getting any job I’m suited for.

The kind of independence many women my age can enjoy would have been almost unimaginable half a century ago – but somebody did imagine it and that is why we got here. A great many somebodies, over centuries of struggle and technological advancement, asked how the world could be different for women and set about making it happen.

Exactly a century ago, Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s novel Herland envisioned a society of women in which production was communal, motherhood was valued, relationships were equal and rape and violence were unknown. Reading Herland today, it is striking that for every proposition that came true – women are now allowed to divorce their husbands and participate fully in political life – there are two more that seem as far-fetched now as they did in 1915. Motherhood is still not valued as work. Women are still expected to organise our lives around the threat of sexual violence. But all that can change as long as we continue to ask for more.

For as long as I have been a feminist, I have been asked – usually by grumbling men – when, exactly, we will be satisfied; when women and girls will decide we have enough. The answer is contained in the question: because the instant that we do decide that we are satisfied, that there can never be a better world than this, is the instant that the future shuts down and change becomes impossible.

Utopia is the search for Utopia. It is the no-place by whose light you plot a course through a harsh and unnavigable present. By the time you reach the horizon, it is no longer the horizon but that doesn’t mean you stop going forwards.

Right now, the future seems dark and frightening and it is precisely now that we must continue to imagine other worlds and then plot ways to get there. In the midst of multiple global crises, the only truly ridiculous proposition is that things are going to stay exactly the same.

Human societies are going to change beyond recognition and from the conference table to the streets, our best shot at surviving that change starts when we have the courage to make impossible demands – to face down ridicule and say, “We want more.”

Laurie Penny is a contributing editor to the New Statesman. She is the author of five books, most recently Unspeakable Things.

This article first appeared in the 26 November 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Terror vs the State