Ed Miliband speaks at the Scottish Labour conference on March 21, 2014 in Perth. Photograph: Getty Images.
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Miliband defines his programme: big reforms, not big spending

What the Labour leader will tell his party's National Policy Forum today.

For Ed Miliband, his speech at Labour's National Policy Forum today is a chance to offer his clearest account yet of the intellectual course he has charted in the last four years. The central message of his address will be that Labour now stands for "big reforms, not big spending". This is both because only far-reaching structural changes to the economy will resolve the problems demonstrated by the financial crisis and the collapse in living standards, and because the deficit the party will inherit means the old answer of hiking public spending is no longer available. 

He will devote a significant section of the speech to outlining Labour's commitment to fiscal discipline, a subject on which some shadow cabinet members believe he has said too little. As he will remind delegates, Labour has pledged to "get the national debt falling as soon as possible in the next parliament" and "deliver a surplus on the current budget". "For all of the cuts, for all of the pain under this government, Britain still has a deficit to deal with and a debt to pay down," he will say. This is an important attempt to manage expectations and to remind NPF delegates (party activists and trade unions) that the generous spending settlements of the past will not be possible. As the experience of François Hollande demonstrates, centre-left governments can't afford to raise false hopes of an end to austerity. 

But the positive conclusion he will draw is that these fiscal constraints mean Labour has to be more, not less, radical in reforming the economy. It is, in a word, predistribution (one that unsurprisingly won't appear in his speech): seeking to achieve more equal outcomes before the government collects taxes and pays out benefits by rewiring the market itself. To this end, Miliband has promised to significantly increase the minimum wage, to end "exploitative" zero-hours contracts, to freeze energy prices, to cap rent increases, to devolve £30bn of funding to city regions (a dramatic break with Labour's centralising tendencies), to create two new "challenger" banks and to introduce worker representation on remuneration committees - radical proposals that do not cost government money. Another word for it, as a source close to Jon Cruddas told me is "Milibandism".

Ahead of Tony Blair's speech on Monday, to mark the 20th anniversary of his election as Labour leader, he will emphasise that he has "moved on from New Labour", but also that he is "not going back to Old Labour". A Labour spokesman told me: "This is not about looking back, this is an Ed Miliband model for 2015, it's not a 1997 model, it's not a 1975 model either."

Miliband will add: "Our programme for government is more radical and more ambitious in the change we seek, crafted for the age we are living in and the challenges we face. Moving on from a time when rising inequality was just a fact of life – or when we acted as if there is nothing we could do about markets that aren’t fair or aren’t working. Not seeing big spending as the answer. Not going back to make do and mend." 

Labour strategists are keen to contrast this rich agenda with what they regard as David Cameron's intellectual exhaustion. One told me: "They [the Tories] have run out of ideas, they have nothing left but a stale form of Thatcherism, which just wants to roll back the state in the hope of being able to offer tax cuts at some point." 

Miliband's bet is that his radical programme will resonate with an alienated electorate longing for answers to the living standards crisis. But Tories will urge caution, arguing that voters can't afford to "hand the keys back" to Labour ("the people who crashed the car") when the recovery remains fragile and the deficit is still high (Conservative strategists rightly regard the message that "the job is not done" as crucial to victory). Which of these two narratives best reflects the country's mood will determine the outcome in May 2015. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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"We repealed, then forgot": the long shadow of Section 28 homophobia

Why are deeply conservative views about the "promotion" of homosexuality still being reiterated to Scottish school pupils? 

Grim stories of LGBTI children being bullied in school are all too common. But one which emerged over the weekend garnered particular attention - because of the echoes of the infamous Section 28, nearly two decades after it was scrapped.

A 16-year-old pupil of a West Lothian school, who does not wish to be named, told Pink News that staff asked him to remove his small rainbow pride badge because, though they had "no problem" with his sexuality, it was not appropriate to "promote it" in school. It's a blast from the past - the rules against "promoting" homosexuality were repealed in 2000 in Scotland, but the long legacy of Section 28 seems hard to shake off. 

The local authority responsible said in a statement that non-school related badges are not permitted on uniforms, and says it is "committed to equal rights for LGBT people". 

The small badge depicted a rainbow-striped heart, which the pupil said he had brought back from the Edinburgh Pride march the previous weekend. He reportedly "no longer feels comfortable going to school", and said homophobia from staff members felt "much more scar[y] than when I encountered the same from other pupils". 

At a time when four Scottish party leaders are gay, and the new Westminster parliament included a record number of LGBTQ MPs, the political world is making progress in promoting equality. But education, it seems, has not kept up. According to research from LGBT rights campaigners Stonewall, 40 per cent of LGBT pupils across the UK reported being taught nothing about LGBT issues at school. Among trans students, 44 per cent said school staff didn’t know what "trans" even means.

The need for teacher training and curriculum reform is at the top of campaigners' agendas. "We're disappointed but not surprised by this example," says Jordan Daly, the co-founder of Time for Inclusive Education [TIE]. His grassroots campaign focuses on making politicians and wider society aware of the reality LGBTI school students in Scotland face. "We're in schools on a monthly basis, so we know this is by no means an isolated incident." 

Studies have repeatedly shown a startling level of self-harm and mental illness reported by LGBTI school students. Trans students are particularly at risk. In 2015, Daly and colleagues began a tour of schools. Shocking stories included one in which a teacher singled out a trans pupils for ridicule in front of the class. More commonly, though, staff told them the same story: we just don't know what we're allowed to say about gay relationships. 

This is the point, according to Daly - retraining, or rather the lack of it. For some of those teachers trained during the 1980s and 1990s, when Section 28 prevented local authorities from "promoting homosexuality", confusion still reigns about what they can and cannot teach - or even mention in front of their pupils. 

The infamous clause was specific in its homophobia: the "acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship" could not be mentioned in schools. But it's been 17 years since the clause was repealed in Scotland - indeed, it was one of the very first acts of the new Scottish Parliament (the rest of the UK followed suit three years later). Why are we still hearing this archaic language? 

"We repealed, we clapped and cheered, and then we just forgot," Daly says. After the bitter campaign in Scotland, in which an alliance of churches led by millionaire businessman Brian Souter poured money into "Keeping the Clause", the government was pleased with its victory, which seemed to establish Holyrood as a progressive political space early on in the life of the parliament. But without updating the curriculum or retraining teaching staff, Daly argues, it left a "massive vacuum" of uncertainty. 

The Stonewall research suggests a similar confusion is likely across the UK. Daly doesn't believe the situation in Scotland is notably worse than in England, and disputes the oft-cited allegation that the issue is somehow worse in Scotland's denominational schools. Homophobia may be "wrapped up in the language of religious belief" in certain schools, he says, but it's "just as much of a problem elsewhere. The TIE campaign doesn't have different strategies for different schools." 

After initial disappointments - their thousands-strong petition to change the curriculum was thrown out by parliament in 2016 - the campaign has won the support of leaders such as Nicola Sturgeon and Kezia Dugdale, and recently, the backing of a majority of MSPs. The Scottish government has set up a working group, and promised a national strategy. 

But for Daly, who himself struggled at a young age with his sexuality and society's failure to accept it, the matter remains an urgent one.  At just 21, he can reel off countless painful stories of young LGBTI students - some of which end in tragedy. One of the saddest elements of the story from St Kentigern's is that the pupil claimed his school was the safest place he had to express his identity, because he was not out at home. Perhaps for a gay pupil in ten years time, that will be a guarantee. 

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