Thom Yorke: our generation's Orwell? (Image: Getty)
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Fifteen years on, Radiohead's Kid A is the best evocation of the failures of New Labour

Fifteen years after Kid A, Max Harris looks back on a record that serves as a searing critique of the New Labour years

Radiohead’s Kid A was released 15 years ago.  Last weekend, a friend and I returned home from dinner and decided to revisit the album.  We did something that feels like a dying practice in our age of Spotify and YouTube – listening to the album from start to finish – in the darkness of an old study. 

Thom Yorke, the frontman of the Oxford-based five-piece, has often resisted explicit political interpretations of Radiohead’s music.  And yet it is remarkable how much Kid A seems to capture the spirit of the early years of New Labour.  And the words and themes of the album still resonate today, highlighting the enduring legacies of that era which Labour today has to face up to as we move closer to this year’s general election.

‘The National Anthem’ is the album’s third track, a song with a bass line that snarls beneath a crashing drum beat and a cacophony of howling synths.  In it Yorke sings about the atomisation of post-Thatcher British society – and the latent sense of anxiety which allowed the Blair government to respond to the 7/7 tragedy with counter-terrorism measures crippling civil liberties.  “Everyone around here…”, Yorke stammers, “everyone is so… near.”  And yet, “every one has got fear” and is just “holding on”.  This is all that binds the nation together, Yorke tells us – a shared sense of solitude even while we’re surrounded by people.  This is the anthem for what George Monbiot has recently described as our “age of loneliness”.

‘The National Anthem’ comes after ‘Everything in its Right Place’ and the title track, both of which seem to express a longing for a society better than the one we have.  Both tracks involve garbled voices striving to be heard.  “What was that you tried to say?” Yorke asks in the opening track.  And on the title tune a slightly mechanised version of Yorke’s voice mumbles over what sounds like ethereal gamelan-like gongs, in words that we can’t quite make out. 

In ‘How to Disappear Completely’, which follows directly on from ‘The National Anthem’, there is a sense of denial – an attempt to come to terms, perhaps, with a Blair government failing to satisfy the feeling of hope that preceded its coming to power. “That there – it’s not me,” Yorke whispers over a haunting acoustic guitar.  “I’m not here,” he sings, “this isn’t happening.”

In ‘Idioteque’, a beautiful three-chord synth progression plays over the top of a rasping drum beat while Yorke speaks about impending catastrophe.  It’s hard not to see the song, however anachronistic this may be, as a modern elegy for how we all have responded to climate change – without sufficient urgency or a sense of the gravity of the problem.  “Ice Age coming, Ice Age coming,” Yorke cries in a panic.  “[But] let me hear both sides, let me hear both sides.”  He goes on: “we’re not scare-mongering/This is really happening.”

Later in the album, there’s more on the social dysfunction of Blair-era Britain in ‘Morning Bell’ (we might have to “cut the kids in half”) and the final track, ‘Motion Picture Soundtrack’, is a funereal organ piece overlaid with a fluttering, fantastical harp.  But if there is death in that final track, whose death is it? It seems likely that Yorke is mourning a friend or acquaintance (“I will see you – in the next life”).  ‘Motion Picture Soundtrack’ could now also be heard, however, as a song about the end of faith in New Labour (even if it was written earlier, before their election). 

Maybe these reflections are too harsh on New Labour – a touch overblown.  But what Radiohead offers in Kid A, ultimately, is a pointed perspective on the time at the turn of the millennium.  And much of what it said in the album, dark as it may be, seems right – about both New Labour and our world 15 years on.  We’re still inert in our response to climate change.  A sense of social malaise, against the backdrop of inequality, remains with us.   And the feelings that Yorke alludes to – of not being listened to, loneliness, denial, and panic – continue to be dominant responses to the problems of our time.

Isn’t this also reading a bit much into Kid A’s lyrics – making the album political when it’s sometimes just personal, and tying the general disenchantment of the album tenuously to New Labour? The problem with this objection is that Radiohead’s work has often been overtly political.  The title of the band’s later album, Hail to the Thief, is an explicit reference to George W. Bush and the theft of the 2000 US election.  And so it’s unlikely that the New Labour years did not feed into the creative process of making Kid A, as is most strongly suggested by the demonic image of Tony Blair you can find in the album art.

More importantly, one of the features of good music is that it makes room for multiple possible meanings like these to be threaded out of a recording, in the way that isn’t possible with much linear non-fiction.    Kid A reminds us, in the end, of what music can offer to social and political struggle.  Artists like Radiohead can be foretellers of emerging trends – creative canaries in our collective mine.  And sometimes, just sometimes, when they get it right – as with Radiohead and Kid A – they can capture the spirit of the times with simultaneous crispness, subtlety, emotion, and beauty. 

Max Harris is a fellow at All Souls College, Oxford. He tweets as @mdnharris.

Max Harris is a fellow at All Souls College, Oxford. He tweets as@mdnharris.

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Roy Hattersley: Labour is far closer to extinction now than in the 1980s

 If the takeover of the party by the far-left succeeds there will be no opportunity to rescue it from the wilder shores of socialism, says the former deputy leader.

The comparison with the Eighties is irresistible but misconceived. Labour is far closer to extinction as a major party than it was 35 years ago. That is not because Jeremy Corbyn is incapable of leading the party to victory — although he is. Nor is it because his supporters threaten the political assassination of anyone who says so — although they do. It is because, for the first time in its history, Labour is in real danger of a permanent domination by the unrepresentative and unelectable left.

All the other regular crises in the party’s history — German rearmament, nuclear disarmament, the defection of the Gang of Four to found the SPD — were resolved by mistakes being rectified, resolutions reversed and Labour resuming its place in the mainstream of British politics. Nor was there any genuine risk that the infiltrators from the far left would play a decisive part in national policy making. The Militant Tendency controlled municipal politics in Liverpool and attempted, with mixed success, to unseat vulnerable mainstream MP’s. But there was no possibility of them subverting the whole party. Now the far left operating through Momentum  aspires to make a decisive, and irreversible shift in Labour’s core ideology by initiating a purge of mainstream Labour MPs and a cull of headquarters office staff, reducing the part that the parliamentary party plays in choosing the leader and making the election manifesto the preserve of the annual conference. If the putsch — described by its instigators as an extension of party democracy — succeeds, there will be no opportunity for a latter day Neil Kinnock to rescue Labour from the wilder shores of socialism and the odds on its survival lengthen.

The crisis could have been averted. The parliamentary party  with the exception of a handful of residual Blairites  is ready for some sort of compromise. That is why, three weeks ago, it gave its overwhelming support to the proposal that the shadow cabinet should be elected by Labour MPs rather than chosen by the leader. The change was intended to allow an honourable return to the front bench for the shadow ministers who resigned in the spring. As a move towards unity, it is no more than papering over the cracks but better that than gaping fractures. Although Corbyn had neither the sense nor the grace immediately to accept the gesture of conciliation, the choice between an uneasy peace and continued guerrilla warfare still lies with him. If — as his victory speech suggests — he regards last Saturday’s victory as a mandate to impose his sectarian will on the party, the battle is likely end with mutual self-destruction.

Even if Jeremy Corbin succeeds in his attempts to create a permanent far-left hegemony, the Labour Party is unlikely to split as it did 30 years ago . The fate of the SDP — absorption into a Liberal Party which kept the Tory-led coalition in office or defiant independence that ended in the ignominy of polling fewer by-election votes than the Monster Raving Loony Party — has dampened enthusiasm for a breakaway movement. Nor are there charismatic potential leaders who stand ready to lead their followers into battle in the way that Roy Jenkins and David Owen (the Fidel Castro and Che Guevara of social democracy) marched a dozen Labour MPs into the valley of political death. But a futile attempt to form a new party would at least imply the hope of some sort ofresurrection. The more likely outcome would be the product of pure despair — the parliamentary Labour party would not divide and instead would begin slowly to disintegrate.

If the worst happens some Labour MPs will suddenly discover previously undetected virtues in Corbyn and Corbynism and line up behind him. Others will grow weary of being abused by local extremists and fade away. Contrary to public opinion, most MPs could earn more from less demanding jobs outside parliament. The politically dedicated, determined to be candidates in the next election, will accept the challenge of reselection. More will succeed than fail, but the harm to the party’s reputation will be immense.

One feature of the 1980 desertion will certainly be replicated. When the Gang of Four defected, the damage done by the loss of glamorous leadership was more than matched by the loss of hard working membership. If Labour MPs begin to believe that the battle for reason and recovery is no longer worth fighting the disenchantment will become infectious. Jeremy Corbyn’s devotees would still turn out for the rallies. But the enthusiasm with which they would tramp the streets on rainy nights, or spend boring weekends telephoning target voters, is in doubt. Reliance on the notion that the election can be won online is the refuge of politicians who either have not identified or do not understand the floating voters.

The haemorrhage has already begun — increased by the behaviour of recently recruited Corbynites who do not seem to have heard that their hero has an olive tree outside his office door. All over the country they are bullying and filibustering their way into the control of local parties — excoriating mainstream members, manipulating the rules of debate and postponing votes until late in the evening. Of course, the men and women who oppose them could play the same game. But they are, by their nature, reasonable people and they want to lead reasonable lives. That is why they represent the sort of Labour Party with which voters can identify. 

Unfortunately, many of the Labour MPs who should have led the campaign to recreate an electable party have spent the last year either sulking or complaining. They have been anti Corbyn but pro very little. Owen Smith’s leadership campaign ended in disaster not because of the size of the incumbent’s votes but because of the challenger’s failure to set out an alternative vision of the society that socialists hope to create. Angela Eagle would have won fewer votes, but she would come closer to reassuring party members that "moderates" (a deadening description which should be abandoned) have principles and policies. A campaign that relied on nothing except the obvious truth that Jeremy Corbyn would lead Labour to defeat was doomed from the start. A majority of the party members who joined before 2015 voted for Smith. Think of how many more would have done the same had he offered them more to vote for than disapproval of his opponent.

Corbyn, and many of the Corbynites, are unmoved by the evidence that they are heading straight to defeat. That is, in part, because Corbyn himself is in what psychiatrists call “total denial.” There were times last year when he seemed to be implementing a carefully coordinated plan to alienate all the middle-of-road voters on whose support a Labour victory depends. He has proposed the unilateral abandonment of the British nuclear deterrent, refused to back Britain’s continued membership of the European Single Market and defended his historic association with apologists for terrorism — all items on the curriculum vitae of a Labour leader who might have been invented by Conservative Central Office. No political leader in British history has been so careless about his party’s prospects at the ballot box. But that is only one of the reasons why the threat of defeat will do little to halt the party's leftward gallop.

There is, within the ranks of Corbyn supporters, a substantial number of activists who — since they do not believe that parliamentary democracy can create the socialist Utopia of their dreams — regard the election of a Labour Government as an irrelevance. Indeed they believe that a prolonged period of Tory misrule will bring forward the day when a spontaneous uprising will herald the new dawn. It is near to inconceivable that Corbyn believes in such millenarian nonsense. But he appear to subscribe to the equally fatuous view that the first task is to make Labour a genuinely socialist party and that winning elections can wait until it is accomplished.

That is clearly the view of those correspondents to the New Statesman who complain about Corbyn’s critics obsession with what they call “electablity”. It is easy for their cynics to sneer about putting power before principle, but winning is a matter of principle too. Labour exists to make those changes in society which can only be achieved in power. In 2016 the fight — to quote the former Labour leader Hugh Gaitskell in 1962 — is less about saving “the party we love” than about rescuing the nation from long years of  Tory bigotry. To behave in a way which diminishes — indeed for a time extinguishes — Labour’s chance of fulfilling its historic purpose is worse than self indulgent. It is betrayal.

There are major figures in the current drama of the Labour Party whose attitude towards the prospect of government is both inexcusable and incomprehensible. Chief among them is Len McCluskey, the general secretary of Unite and a man whose every bombastic television appearance is worth thousands of votes to the Tories. The members he represents have the strongest possible vested interest in a Labour victory at the next election. Yet many of his policies and pronouncements — particularly his risibly unsuccessful attempts to bully MPs into supporting Jeremy Corbyn’s leadership — contribute to the Conservatives’ opinion poll lead and increases the danger of massive defeat at the next election turning into total destruction.

Anyone who doubts that Labour could be reduced to the status of the Liberal Democrats or the Greens — struggling for influence without even hoping for power — should be sent to canvas for the party in Scotland. But the near oblivion north of the border is not yet inevitable in the south. Recovery will take time and before Labour can begin effectively to deal with the challenges from outside the party it must struggle back into the mainstream of politics — a process which has to begin with an acceptance that Jeremy Corbyn’s first election was more than a combination of the Peasants’ Revolt and the Children’s Crusade. For many of the men and women who voted for the first time in 2015 his victory represented the end of a decade of disillusion. At first they had felt no more than disappointment at opportunities that successive Blair Governments missed — their delight in the landslide victory of 1997 fading away until it was finally extinguished on the battlefields of Iraq.

The Peak District village in which I live is home to more Labour party members than the tourists may imagine. Two of them  —  a retired bank manager and an emeritus professor of cardiac surgery — voted for Corbyn in 2015. In part they were motivated by a desire to “give socialism a chance for once.” But they also thought that they were drawing a line under the years of “the third way” and triangulation. New Labour, in which they had once devoutly believed, had come to mean private enterprise edging its way into the health service, the surreptitious extension of secondary selection and light regulation of the City of London. Jeremy Corbyn, like the Scottish National Party, has much to thank Tony Blair for.

For some people Jeremy Corbyn was, like Donald Trump and Marine LePen, a welcome alternative to the politics of the establishment. To many more he was, by the very nature of his unelectability, the antidote to the opportunism which they (wrongly) believe characterises life in Westminster. Now, a mainstream candidate for the Labour leadership will have to make clear that they are guided not by opinion polls but by a vision of a new and better society. The next leader must concentrate every nerve and sinew on winning, but they must have faith in their ability to carry the country for reasonable revolution.

Unfortunately the members of the Labour mainstream are notoriously reticent about  discussing first principles. They find talk of “the vision thing” embarrassing and believe that the task which faces them is too obvious to need justification by any “fancy theories.” Yet there is a great body of work — by the likes of TH Green, RH Tawney. Anthony Crosland and John Rawls — which set out the theory of democratic socialism and descriptions of why it is especially relevant today – Joseph E Stiglitz’s The Price of Inequality and The Spirit Level by Richard Wilkinson and Kate Pickett — abound. The recovery of reason has to begin with Chukka Umuuna explaining the virtues of equality, Yvette Cooper describing Britain’s obligations to the developing world and Dan Jarvis defining the role of the state in protecting the weak against the strong. Or any of them talking about what they stand for instead of assuming that their convictions are taken for granted. The Daily Mail might not report their speeches, but moderate party members will treat the related Fabian Society pamphlets like water in the desert.

If, as they must, the reasonable majority of Labour MPs choose to stay and fight, they have to organise — inside the parliamentary party and, more importantly in the constituencies. I have spent much recent time insisting, to sceptical friends that the occupants of the opposition back benches are as competent and committed as were members of any of the governments, or shadow governments, in which I served. But I do not even try to argue that they are as active as my contemporaries once were in reclaiming the party. Success and survival depends on the constant demonstration that reasonable radicals still have a home in the Labour Party.  

One refugee from Corbyn’s original shadow cabinet assured me that like-minded Labour MPs do occasionally meet. When I asked what they discussed, I was told that they “wait for something to turn up.” But, something will only turn up if it is prepared and promoted by the men and women who have the courage and commitment to lead Labour out of the wilderness. The journey will be long and hard and there can be no guarantee of arrival at the desired destination. But those of us who believe that Labour can still provide the best prospect of a more equal society have to begin the trek toward the promised land — and we need to set out straight away.

Roy Hattersley was deputy leader of the Labour Party from 1983 to 1992.