Delegates walk past a banner outside the Labour conference on September 23, 2013 in Brighton. Photograph: Getty Images.
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Labour's finances are healthier than most think - but dangers remain

The party has reduced its debts from £25m in 2005 to £4.5m but risks to funding have increased. 

Labour's decision to end its commercial relationship with the Co-operative Bank has come as no surprise to anyone in the party. The bank, which is now 70 per cent owned by US investors, was already reviewing the link as part of its new "apolitical" approach and, for Labour, there is an understandable interest in no longer being directly associated with the scandal-ridden instiution. The £1.2m loan that the party currently has with the Co-op will be transferred to the Unity Trust Bank, jointly owned by a coalition of trade unions and the Co-op itself (although it is currently attempting to sell its 27 per cent stake). 

The move has inevitably led to comment on the wider state of Labour's finances. ConservativeHome's Mark Wallace writes: "All of this is bad news for Ed Miliband’s election machine. True to their national record, the Labour party itself is laden with debt, and its fund-raising attempts have brought in less money than they hoped." Yet while Labour is far from flush with cash, its financial situation is healthier than generally thought. After reaching the dangerously high level of £25m in 2005 (putting it close to bankruptcy), its debts have been reduced to £4.5m and the party is on track to eliminate the blackhole entirely by 2016. In 2012, it ran a surplus (for the sixth successive year) of £2.8m and raised £12.03m to the Tories' £13.8m. 

But there are several black clouds on the horizon. The first is the probability that the separate Co-operative Group will end most or all of its funding to Labour having recently consulted the public on whether it was appropriate for it to continue to donate to a political party. In 2012, it donated £810,000 to Labour (the typical annual amount), including £563,000 to the affiliated Co-operative party (of which 32 Labour MPs are members) and £50,000 to Ed Balls's office. 

The second is the impact of Ed Miliband's party reforms. To date, his decision to require all trade union members to opt into donating to Labour, has prompted Unite and the GMB to reduce their funding by £2.55m. Both unions have already made it clear that some of this shortfall will be reduced through one-off donations but the party is still likely to suffer a net financial loss. 

The third is the likelihood of the party winning the next general election. As one source recently pointed out to me, this would mean the loss of all of the £6.4m Labour currently receives in "short money", the state funding made available to assist opposition parties with their costs (such as travel expenses and running the leader's office). "A lot of people know their jobs are on the line if we win," he said. 

With Labour's general election spending already constrained by its debt reduction target, expect the party to step up its fundraising efforts over the next year in a bid to ensure a fair fight with the Tories. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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It's easy to see where Berlin is being rebuilt – just hit the streets

My week, from walking the streets of Berlin to class snobbery and the right kind of gentrification.

Brick by brick, block by block, the people are rebuilding the city once called Faust’s Metropolis. To see it clearly, put your boots on. One of the most bracing walks starts by the Gethsemane Church, which served as a haven for dissenters in the last days of the GDR and takes you down ­towards the Hackescher Markt.

Here, in what is still the eastern half of a divided city that wears its division more lightly, is a Berlin experience both old and new. In three decades of frequent visits, it has been fascinating to note how much this part of town has changed. Even a decade ago these streets were rundown. With crumbling buildings showing bulletholes, it wasn’t hard to imagine what the place looked like in 1945. Now there are lilacs, blues, and yellows. Cafés, bars and restaurants abound, serving the young professionals attracted to the city by cheap rents and a renewed sense of community.

 

Breaking the fourth wall

Looking north along Schliemannstraße, you’ll find a delightful vista of well-tended balconies. It’s a pleasant place to live, notwithstanding the gaggle of grotesques who gather round the corner in the square. On Kastanienallee, which forms the second leg of the walk, an old city feels young. It’s a kind of gentrification but the right kind. There’s more to eat, to drink, to buy, for all.

Berlin, where Bertolt Brecht staged his unwatchable plays, was supposed to have been transformed by a proletarian revolution. Instead, it has been restored to health by a very middle-class one. Germany has always had a well-educated middle class, and the nation’s restoration would have impossible without such people. The irony is delicious – not that irony buttered many parsnips for “dirty Bertie”.

 

The new snobbery

The British Museum’s survey of German history “Memories of a Nation” is being presented at the Martin-Gropius-Bau as “The British View”. Germans, natürlich, are curious to see how we observe them. But how do they see us?

A German friend recently in England  said that the images that struck him most forcibly were the tins of food and cheap booze people piled up in supermarkets, and the number of teenage girls pushing prams. Perhaps Neil MacGregor, the former director of the British Museum who will shortly take up a similar role here at the new Humboldt Forum, may turn his attention to a “German View” of the United Kingdom.

There’s no shortage of material. In Schlawinchen, a bar that typifies Kreuzberg’s hobohemia, a college-educated English girl was trying to explain northern England to an American she had just met. Speaking in an ugly modern Mancunian voice that can only be acquired through years of practice (sugar pronounced as “sug-oar”), she refer­red to Durham and York as “middle class, you know, posh”, because those cities had magnificent cathedrals.

When it comes to inverted snobbery, no nation can match us. To be middle class in Germany is an indication of civic value. In modern England, it can mark you as a leper.

 

Culture vultures

The Humboldt Forum, taking shape by the banks of the Spree, reconsecrates the former site of the GDR’s Palace of the Republic. When it opens in 2018 it will be a “living exhibition”, dedicated to all the cultures of the world. Alexander von Humboldt, the naturalist and explorer, was the brother of Wilhelm, the diplomat and philosopher, whose name lives on in the nearby university.

In Potsdamerplatz there are plans to build a modern art museum, crammed in between the Neue Nationalgalerie and the Philharmonie, home to the Berlin Philharmonic. Meanwhile, the overhaul of the Deutsche Staatsoper, where Daniel Barenboim is music director for life, is likely to be completed, fingers crossed, next autumn.

Culture everywhere! Or perhaps that should be Kultur, which has a slightly different meaning in Germany. They take these things more seriously, and there is no hint of bogus populism. In London, plans for a new concert hall have been shelved. Sir Peter Hall’s words remain true: “England is a philistine country that loves the arts.”

 

European neighbours

When Germans speak of freedom, wrote A J P Taylor, a historian who seems to have fallen from favour, they mean the freedom to be German. No longer. When modern Germans speak of freedom, they observe it through the filter of the European Union.

But nation states are shaped by different forces. “We are educated to be obedient,” a Berlin friend who spent a year at an English school once told me. “You are educated to be independent.” To turn around Taylor’s dictum: when the English speak of freedom,
they mean the freedom to be English.

No matter what you may have heard, the Germans have always admired our independence of spirit. We shall, however, always see “Europe” in different ways. Europe, good: we can all agree on that. The European Union, not so good. It doesn’t mean we have to fall out, and the Germans are good friends to have.

 

Hook, line and sinker

There are fine walks to be had in the west, too. In Charlottenburg, the Kensington of Berlin, the mood is gentler, yet you can still feel the city humming. Here, there are some classic places to eat and drink – the Literaturhauscafé for breakfast and, for dinner, Marjellchen, a treasure trove of east Prussian forest delights. Anything that can be shot and put in a pot!

For a real Berlin experience, though, head at nightfall for Zwiebelfisch, the great tavern on Savignyplatz, and watch the trains glide by on the other side of Kantstraße. Hartmut Volmerhaus, a most amusing host, has been the guvnor here for more than 30 years and there are no signs that his race is run. The “Fisch” at twilight: there’s nowhere better to feel the pulse of this remarkable city. 

This article first appeared in the 01 December 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Age of outrage