Liberal Democrat MP Lorley Burt walks on stage wearing a Nigel Farage mask at the party's spring conference in York. Photograph: Getty Images.
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Westminster is in thrall to the cult of Farage – but Clegg knows that most voters see through it

There are far more people who don’t vote Ukip than do, including many who despise pub-bore nationalism.

David Cameron has handled Ukip like an intimate rash. There was an itch he couldn’t help scratching but scratching only made it worse. Now he is trying to ignore it in the hope it will go away.

He certainly doesn’t want to talk about it. The Prime Minister aims to reach the general election in May 2015 without sharing a platform with Nigel Farage or even uttering his name. Downing Street hopes that Ukip’s popularity will peak at the local council and European Parliament elections this May, if not before. Meanwhile, Cameron’s strategy is to avoid gratuitously offending the party’s supporters.

For Ed Miliband, the relationship is more complex. His instincts are antithetical to those of Farage but their interests are tactically aligned. Currently, Ukip poaches more votes from ex-Conservatives than from disgruntled Labourites in vital marginal seats, so the longer the Farage phenomenon endures, the likelier it is that the Labour leader ends up in No 10.

To the extent that Labour has a strategy for dealing with Ukip voters, it is to sympathise with their rage while steering blame away from migrants and benefit claimants. A Labour government that guarantees jobs, higher wages and affordable homes is expected to neutralise resentment of foreigners for supposedly driving down pay and colonising council houses. That is a theory to explain when Farage might go away, not a campaign to see him off.

So there is a vacancy for someone who will confront the Ukip leader on his own terms. Nick Clegg has awarded himself that honour. The Liberal Democrat leader used a speech at his party’s spring conference on 9 March to express a brand of liberal patriotism celebrating a “modern, open, tolerant” Britain that tends to want to be part of Europe, as distinct from a fearful and reactionary blend of Little England nostalgia that wants out. Clegg will debate the merits of Britain’s EU membership with Farage live on television in April.

Lib Dem strategists are not expecting the party to be buoyed by some great surge of enthusiasm for Brussels. They note only that a liberal Europhile position currently polls better than Clegg (as do many things). Since the party shed much of its core support by forming a coalition with the Tories, it needs to recruit a new cohort of voters. Salvation depends on finding people who agree with Nick and just don’t know it yet.

This plan isn’t entirely delusional. Liberal dismay at the main parties’ craven response to Farage extends beyond the question of Europe. The Ukip leader has enjoyed privileged media status as a spicy character in an otherwise bland political drama and as the incarnation of public loathing of politicians. Fringe idiocy in Ukip’s ranks has not escaped ridicule but there is in Westminster a strain of self-hating deference to the party’s voters, as if their jaundiced view of modern Britain were more authentic than other political opinions. In reality, there are far more people who don’t vote Ukip than do, including many who despise pub-bore nationalism. Just as the Ukip leader wants to channel anti-establishment anger, Clegg wants to channel a cosmopolitan backlash against the cult of Farage.

It is worth a try. The Lib Dems have been supremely disciplined through successive local election ravages – but their patience is not infinite. Clegg has so far managed to avert despair with the argument that it is better to be harried in office than to be irrelevant in opposition. Since another hung parliament looks plausible after the next election, there is always hope of staying in power.

There are Labour and Tory MPs who assert with bitter confidence that Clegg, as a likely coalition kingmaker, has more reason than Miliband or Cameron to be sure of being in power after 2015. That calculation rests on the record of tenacious Lib Dem incumbents in fortified bastion seats bucking a national trend. It also presumes that, since the party has been bumping along the bottom for three years, the only way is up.

To sustain that story, Clegg needs to show some progress in May, although abject defeat would probably not provoke a leadership challenge. The party’s regicidal impulse, once so quick, has been numbed by the duty to look responsible in government. It would be roused only by a general election catastrophe.

It helps that expectations of Lib Dem performance are so low. Clegg’s office is happy to keep them that way. Senior aides present the debates with Farage in modest terms, as an opportunity to get a neglected pro-EU argument across, rather than some prizefight in which Europhobia might be dealt a knockout blow. At best, the Lib Dems hope to add a few points to their vote share over the coming months, dragging it into the mid-teens from single-digit ignominy and avoiding the eviction of every one of the party’s MEPs from Strasbourg.

Besides, Ukip support is about a lot more than Europe. Farage’s voters are recruited from across the political spectrum and animated by a complex of resentments, insecurities and prejudices. They nurture a feeling that politicians have conspired to turn Britain into a place that suits metropolitan elites. Clegg’s contention is that more people are happy with the current complexion of the country than Farage is letting on and that some of them are frustrated by what they see as tacit endorsement by Miliband and Cameron of the Ukip gripe.

The Lib Dems can’t realistically expect to convert that sentiment into enthusiasm for their party. They just need to borrow some votes in May to make a point. Or rather, by standing as the very opposite of Farage, they hope to bring some clarity to the enduring mystery in many voters’ minds of what might be the point of Nick Clegg.

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

This article first appeared in the 12 March 2014 issue of the New Statesman, 4 years of austerity

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Meet the hot, funny, carefree Cool Mums – the maternal version of the Cool Girl

As new film Bad Moms reveals, what the cool girl is to the diet-obsessed prom queen, the cool mum is to the PTA harpy.

I suppose we should all be thankful. Time was when “mum’s night off” came in the form of a KFC value bucket. Now, with the advent of films such as Bad Moms – “from the gratefully married writers of The Hangover” – it looks as though mums are finally getting permission to cut loose and party hard.

This revelation could not come a moment too soon. Fellow mums, you know all those stupid rules we’ve been following? The ones where we think “god, I must do this, or it will ruin my precious child’s life”? Turns out we can say “sod it” and get pissed instead. Jon Lucas and Scott Moore said so.

I saw the trailer for Bad Moms in the cinema with my sons, waiting for Ghostbusters to start. Much as I appreciate a female-led comedy, particularly one that suggests there is virtue in shirking one’s maternal responsibilities, I have to say there was something about it that instantly made me uneasy. It seems the media is still set on making the Mommy Wars happen, pitching what one male reviewer describes as “the condescending harpies that run the PTA” against the nice, sexy mummies who just want to have fun (while also happening to look like Mila Kunis). It’s a set up we’ve seen before and will no doubt see again, and while I’m happy some attention is being paid to the pressures modern mothers are under, I sense that another is being created: the pressure to be a cool mum.

When I say “cool mum” I’m thinking of a maternal version of the cool girl, so brilliantly described in Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl:

“Being the Cool Girl means I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because Cool Girls are above all hot.”

The cool girl isn’t like all the others. She isn’t weighed down by the pressures of femininity. She isn’t bothered about the rules because she knows how stupid they are (or at least, how stupid men think they are). She does what she likes, or at least gives the impression of doing so. No one has to feel guilty around the cool girl. She puts all other women, those uptight little princesses, to shame.

What the cool girl is to the diet-obsessed prom queen, the cool mum is to the PTA harpy. The cool mum doesn’t bore everyone by banging on about organic food, sleeping habits or potty training. Neither hyper-controlling nor obsessively off-grid, she’s managed to combine reproducing with remaining a well-balanced person, with interests extending far beyond CBeebies and vaccination pros and cons. She laughs in the face of those anxious mummies ferrying their kids to and from a multitude of different clubs, in between making  cupcakes for the latest bake sale and sitting on the school board. The cool mum doesn’t give a damn about dirty clothes or additives. After all, isn’t the key to happy children a happy mum? Perfection is for narcissists.

It’s great spending time with the cool mum. She doesn’t make you feel guilty about all the unpaid drudgery about which other mothers complain. She’s not one to indulge in passive aggression, expecting gratitude for all those sacrifices that no one even asked her to make. She’s entertaining and funny. Instead of fretting about getting up in time to do the school run, she’ll stay up all night, drinking you under the table. Unlike the molly-coddled offspring of the helicopter mum or the stressed-out kids of the tiger mother, her children are perfectly content and well behaved, precisely because they’ve learned that the world doesn’t revolve around them. Mummy’s a person, too.

It’s amazing, isn’t it, just how well this works out. Just as the cool girl manages to meet all the standards for patriarchal fuckability without ever getting neurotic about diets, the cool mum raises healthy, happy children without ever appearing to be doing any actual motherwork. Because motherwork, like dieting, is dull. The only reason any woman would bother with either of them is out of some misplaced sense of having to compete with other women. But what women don’t realise – despite the best efforts of men such as the Bad Moms writers to educate us on this score – is that the kind of woman who openly obsesses over her children or her looks isn’t worth emulating. On the contrary, she’s a selfish bitch.

For what could be more selfish than revealing to the world that the performance of femininity doesn’t come for free? That our female bodies are not naturally hairless, odourless, fat-free playgrounds? That the love and devotion we give our children – the very care work that keeps them alive – is not something that just happens regardless of whether or not we’ve had to reimagine our entire selves to meet their needs? No one wants to know about the efforts women make to perform the roles which men have decided come naturally to us. It’s not that we’re not still expected to be perfect partners and mothers. It’s not as though someone else is on hand to pick up the slack if we go on strike. It’s just that we’re also required to pretend that our ideals of physical and maternal perfection are not imposed on us by our position in a social hierarchy. On the contrary, they’re meant to be things we’ve dreamed up amongst ourselves, wilfully, if only because each of us is a hyper-competitive, self-centred mean girl at heart.

Don’t get me wrong. It would be great if the biggest pressures mothers faced really did come from other mothers. Alas, this really isn’t true. Let’s look, for instance, at the situation in the US, where Bad Moms is set. I have to say, if I were living in a place where a woman could be locked up for drinking alcohol while pregnant, where she could be sentenced to decades behind bars for failing to prevent an abusive partner from harming her child, where she could be penalised in a custody case on account of being a working mother – if I were living there, I’d be more than a little paranoid about fucking up, too. It’s all very well to say “give yourself a break, it’s not as though the motherhood police are out to get you”. Actually, you might find that they are, especially if, unlike Kunis’s character in Bad Moms, you happen to be poor and/or a woman of colour.

Even when the stakes are not so high, there is another reason why mothers are stressed that has nothing to do with pressures of our own making. We are not in need of mindfulness, bubble baths nor even booze (although the latter would be gratefully received). We are stressed because we are raising children in a culture which strictly compartmentalises work, home and leisure. When one “infects” the other – when we miss work due to a child’s illness, or have to absent ourselves to express breastmilk at social gatherings, or end up bringing a toddler along to work events – this is seen as a failure on our part. We have taken on too much. Work is work and life is life, and the two should never meet.

No one ever says “the separation between these different spheres – indeed, the whole notion of work/life balance – is an arbitrary construct. It shouldn’t be down to mothers to maintain these boundaries on behalf of everyone else.” Throughout human history different cultures have combined work and childcare. Yet ours has decreed that when women do so they are foolishly trying to “have it all”, ignoring the fact that no one is offering mothers any other way of raising children while maintaining some degree of financial autonomy. These different spheres ought to be bleeding into one another.  If we are genuinely interested in destroying hierarchies by making boundaries more fluid, these are the kind of boundaries we should be looking at. The problem lies not with identities – good mother, bad mother, yummy mummy, MILF – but with the way in which we understand and carry out our day-to-day tasks.

But work is boring. Far easier to think that nice mothers are held back, not by actual exploitation, but by meanie alpha mummies making up arbitrary, pointless rules. And yes, I’d love to be a bad mummy, one who stands up and says no to all that. Wouldn’t we all? I’d be all for smashing the matriarchy, if that were the actual problem here, but it’s not.

It’s not that mummies aren’t allowing each other to get down and party. God knows, we need it. It’s just that it’s a lot less fun when you know the world will still be counting on you to clear up afterwards.  

Glosswitch is a feminist mother of three who works in publishing.