Ed Miliband, accompanied by Jon Cruddas, addresses an audience at 'The Backstage Centre' on May 27, 2014 in Purfleet. Photograph: Getty Images.
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Miliband has lost momentum to the Ukip insurgents, but he’s fighting back by turning blue

Blue Labour's values of community and solidarity are the key to winning back alienated working class voters from Ukip.

This was supposed to be Ed Miliband’s great moment. Labour figures had long awaited the May elections as an event that would see him confirmed as a prime minister-in-waiting. But Nigel Farage disrupted the ceremony. After Ukip’s performance, it was he, rather than Miliband, who acquired that most valuable of political commodities: momentum.

Farage’s announcement that he would launch his party’s general election manifesto in Miliband’s constituency of Doncaster North (where Ukip topped the polls in the European election and finished a close second in the locals) was symbolic of how he has knocked Labour off course. Just when he would want to be advancing remorselessly on Downing Street, Miliband faces a rebel uprising in his own backyard. How he responds will do much to determine whether he recovers from the most difficult period for his leadership since last summer.

What he will not do, as he signalled in his speech on 27 May in Thurrock (where Ukip gains deprived Labour of overall control of the council), is to follow David Cameron’s example. The Prime Minister first insulted, then ignored, then imitated Ukip. Miliband is determined to fight Farage on his own terms. Unlike Cameron, he will not give the Ukip leader what he craves most: the promise of an in/out EU referendum in the next parliament. Farage needs Miliband to match Cameron’s pledge in order to repel the Tory line that the only way to guarantee a referendum is to vote Conservative, not Ukip, in 2015. But Miliband has no intention of making a promise from which he would derive little or no political benefit (the issue does not even make it into the top ten of voters’ concerns) and that could eventually produce a premiership-ending defeat.

That Miliband does not feel the need to lurch or to U-turn stems from the extent to which he believes the rise of Ukip confirms his existing intellectual and psephological analysis. As one shadow cabinet ally told me: “The idea that, suddenly, because of the magic abilities of Farage, Ukip have come out of nowhere to do what they did in the Europeans and the locals is wrong; it’s absurd and incorrect. We’re reaping what we sowed back in ’97 through to 2005, when we gave the impression to our working-class heartlands that they were communities that we took for granted. We kept on talking to them about globalisation, but that was passing people by.”

In his speech at Ukip’s triumphalist post-election press conference, the party’s deputy leader, Paul Nuttall, referred to the five million votes New Labour lost between 1997 and 2010, a figure Miliband cited often during his leadership campaign. Of this group, most of whom are working class, just 1.1 million went to the Tories, while 1.6 million went to the Liberal Democrats and half a million to the British National Party. The remainder stopped voting at all. It is this “left behind” demographic that Ukip is now attracting. Michael Ashcroft’s latest polls of marginals showed that 30 per cent of Ukip supporters in these seats did not turn out at all in 2010.

In recent months, Miliband has assembled a series of interventionist policies with potential appeal to this group: a higher minimum wage, more affordable housing, tougher labour-market regulation and cheaper energy bills. What he has lacked, figures from all wings of the party argue, is an overarching narrative that resonates with voters as powerfully as Farage’s story of national loss and abandonment. Labour’s offer, it is said, has become too “transactional”. As a former shadow cabinet minister told me: “We need simpler and stronger messages. A ten-point plan to deal with the cost-of-living crisis is a coherent policy programme which passes muster in seminars but can you remember ten items on a shopping list? I can’t when I go down to Morrisons to do the shop.”

Conscious of such criticisms, Miliband has begun to recalibrate his message. “Blue Ed is back,” one Labour MP told me after his Thurrock speech. With its references to “family”, “community” and “solidarity”, Miliband’s Thurrock address paid intellectual homage to Blue Labour, the group of communitarian thinkers assembled by Lord (Maurice) Glasman.

Owing to the leader’s recurrent disagreements with the iconoclastic peer, the movement’s enduring influence on the party has often been overlooked. Among Miliband’s inner circle, his speechwriter Marc Stears, strategist Stewart Wood and chief of staff, Tim Livesey, are all supporters. The party’s policy review is led by Jon Cruddas, Blue Labour’s greatest parliamentary champion. The group has been the dominant influence on Miliband’s stance on immigration, which rejects both the xenophobic parochialism of Farage and the laissez-faire globalism of Tony Blair. Although his position is attacked from the right of the party by John Hutton and Alan Milburn and from the left by Diane Abbott, Labour strategists argue it is consistent with his wider support for economic interventionism. As one told me: “In the same way that we think that free markets can be good thing, if they’re managed and regulated in the public interest, it’s not really surprising that we think the same about the labour market.”

Miliband is now entering what one shadow cabinet member describes as “the most important period in the whole parliament”. The party’s final pieces of policy work – Andrew Adonis’s growth review, IPPR’s “Condition of Britain” report and the Local Government Innovation Taskforce – will soon be complete. Miliband’s task, and that of his shadow cabinet, will be to weave these threads into a narrative of national renewal powerful enough to overcome the sour pessimism of Ukip. To defeat the Purple Peril, Labour must once again paint itself blue. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 28 May 2014 issue of the New Statesman, The elites vs the people

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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times