Ed Miliband speaks at the launch of Labour's local and European election campaign. Photograph: Getty Images.
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Labour tensions over election strategy are growing

There is increasing division over the party's alleged "35% strategy".

After Labour's much-derided assault on the Lib Dems last week, one does not have to look far to find despondency within the party's ranks. "I believed them when they said there wasn't a 35 per cent strategy," one MP tells me. "Now I'm convinced there is". By this, he means a strategy that consists of uniting Labour's core vote with Lib Dem defectors in an attempt to crawl over the electoral finish line, rather than a more ambitious "40 per cent strategy" that also seeks to win over blue collar non-voters and Conservative supporters. 

Those who advocate the latter despair at what they regard as the crude negativity and vacuity of last week's election broadcast on Nick Clegg ("The Un-credible Shrinking Man"). They worry about the apparent degrading of the "One Nation" frame in favour of an approach that one figure characterises as "cost-of-living, bash the Lib Dems and 'you can't trust the Tories with the NHS.'" Rather than "The Un-credible Shrinking Man" it is Labour's "Incredible Shrinking Offer" that troubles the party's radicals. 

The surge of Ukip in the polls, with the party now regarded as almost certain to win the European elections, has led to open divisions over how to combat the Farageiste threat. While Ed Miliband has focused on attacking Ukip as "more Thatcherite than Thatcher", Jon Cruddas, Labour's policy review co-ordinator, eschewed such language in his piece for the Guardian on Thursday ("Ukip isn't a Tory movement. It's a party of the disenfranchised English") advocating a positive approach that recasts Labour as a patriotic "party of the people" and more explicitly addresses anxieties over immigration and welfare. 

Other shadow cabinet members complain of the party's failure to promote its commitment to reform the EU, which they regarded as a quid pro quo for Miliband's refusal to guarantee an in/out referendum under a Labour government.

I'm told that attempts are now underway to try and bridge the divide, which one MP described as "a fundamental difference of outlook". But if the party suffers a poor result on 22 May, becoming the first opposition party in the last 20 years not to win the European elections, Labour's tensions could once again burst into the open. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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Theresa May’s stage-managed election campaign keeps the public at bay

Jeremy Corbyn’s approach may be chaotic, but at least it’s more authentic.

The worst part about running an election campaign for a politician? Having to meet the general public. Those ordinary folk can be a tricky lot, with their lack of regard for being on-message, and their pesky real-life concerns.

But it looks like Theresa May has decided to avoid this inconvenience altogether during this snap general election campaign, as it turns out her visit to Leeds last night was so stage-managed that she barely had to face the public.

Accusations have been whizzing around online that at a campaign event at the Shine building in Leeds, the Prime Minister spoke to a room full of guests invited by the party, rather than local people or people who work in the building’s office space.

The Telegraph’s Chris Hope tweeted a picture of the room in which May was addressing her audience yesterday evening a little before 7pm. He pointed out that, being in Leeds, she was in “Labour territory”:

But a few locals who spied this picture online claimed that the audience did not look like who you’d expect to see congregated at Shine – a grade II-listed Victorian school that has been renovated into a community project housing office space and meeting rooms.

“Ask why she didn’t meet any of the people at the business who work in that beautiful building. Everyone there was an invite-only Tory,” tweeted Rik Kendell, a Leeds-based developer and designer who says he works in the Shine building. “She didn’t arrive until we’d all left for the day. Everyone in the building past 6pm was invite-only . . . They seemed to seek out the most clinical corner for their PR photos. Such a beautiful building to work in.”

Other tweeters also found the snapshot jarring:

Shine’s founders have pointed out that they didn’t host or invite Theresa May – rather the party hired out the space for a private event: “All visitors pay for meeting space in Shine and we do not seek out, bid for, or otherwise host any political parties,” wrote managing director Dawn O'Keefe. The guestlist was not down to Shine, but to the Tory party.

The audience consisted of journalists and around 150 Tory activists, according to the Guardian. This was instead of employees from the 16 offices housed in the building. I have asked the Conservative Party for clarification of who was in the audience and whether it was invite-only and am awaiting its response.

Jeremy Corbyn accused May of “hiding from the public”, and local Labour MP Richard Burgon commented that, “like a medieval monarch, she simply briefly relocated her travelling court of admirers to town and then moved on without so much as a nod to the people she considers to be her lowly subjects”.

But it doesn’t look like the Tories’ painstaking stage-management is a fool-proof plan. Having uniform audiences of the party faithful on the campaign trail seems to be confusing the Prime Minister somewhat. During a visit to a (rather sparsely populated) factory in Clay Cross, Derbyshire, yesterday, she appeared to forget where exactly on the campaign trail she was:

The management of Corbyn’s campaign has also resulted in gaffes – but for opposite reasons. A slightly more chaotic approach has led to him facing the wrong way, with his back to the cameras.

Corbyn’s blunder is born out of his instinct to address the crowd rather than the cameras – May’s problem is the other way round. Both, however, seem far more comfortable talking to the party faithful, even if they are venturing out of safe seat territory.

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.

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