Paramilitary cults, alcoholism and a superhero. Photo: Getty
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Simulection: What happens when you run the 2015 Lib Dem manifesto through a video game?

We are running the parties' manifestos through Democracy 3, an election simulation video game. Here's what happens if the Liberal Democrats win...

Nick Clegg says: “Me, Prime Minister?! You’ve got to be kidding. Or perhaps it just goes to show people don’t like silver bullets, but tough choices. And the Liberal Democrats, the lithely-muscular, iron-sandaled Liberal Democrats, the Liberal Democrats who aren’t afraid to break promises; we’re the tough party.

What will I do as Prime Minister? This time around, we’ll carry out all our promises, get the nation back on its feet. We’ll add a heart and a brain and a liver and a bile duct to our non-existent coalition partner. Protect jobs through free school meals for everyone. Paddy Ashdown will be dispatched simultaneously, instantaneously, momentarily to deal with all warzones, bullies or bastards. We’ll just add the extra zeros on the end of the national debt together to cancel them out. The NHS will be run entirely by angels. Friendly dragons will pare your cuticles with their talons! Lend a hand to the mums and dads of Alarm Clock Britain! Tuition fees will be made of candy floss! Danny Alexander! The yellow bird of freedom will fly anew on the British flag!

Sorry Miriam! I didn’t know I was shouting! God, sorry, I know your work is important. Sorry, sorry. I’ll just run the country more quietly, from the den. Run the country..? Oh, God, I’m in charge. I’m in charge. I’m in..? Oh God, oh God, oh God.

I’d better quickly reiterate a conflict of interest mentioned on the methodology page; once upon a time I worked for the Liberal Democrats. Don’t worry, I’m so bitter and jaded now that erstwhile affection won’t affect my judgement on their policies one way or the other. I’m just here to see if their manifesto commitments work in this simulation.

A more troubling caveat is that I’ve become aware of the foibles of the programme we’re using, which means I’m fairly certain that the Lib Dems are going to hit the same problem as the Tories and Labour did  a global recession. That prior knowledge isn’t much help, as I still have to try to implement the manifesto, but it may make me more cautious as to when I carry out huge projects like electrifying the entire UK rail network or taking Paddy’s favourite stiletto away.

I have to admit that I skim-read the Lib Dem manifesto, as it was twice the length of the Labour or Tory tomes, and there’s a pile of factual books about babycare staring me in the face. Without being glib, that’s not the fiction I want to spend my spare time reading. By that I mean that the Lib Dems themselves have stopped pretending that they are a party of solo government, which was the rhetoric up to 2010.

Now their message is that they’re a centrist party of coalition, like the Free Democratic Party of Germany (a long-running liberal party that failed to make it into parliament at the last election. Not to draw any parallels.) The people who wrote this manifesto never expected that it would be implemented at all; it’s a negotiating point for coalition and never intended for any real world scenario, despite its length. So fiction!

Given that extra length, it’s surprising how similar it is to the two main parties’ manifestos. Maybe the blues and reds just had better editors? The Lib-Dems have the same commitment to balancing the current budget, in their case by 2017, and they want to make debt fall as a percentage of GDP. They’re also committed to borrowing £70bn less than labour and cutting £50bn less than the Tories, raising the personal tax allowance to £12,500.

However they have a lot more detail to all their promises. I can’t really see a coherent central theme to their manifesto  just thousands of independent tweaks so I’ll implement tax measures first, then start spending the tiny amount of money we’ve got spare on whatever of their policies work at the time. The two tax commitments I can see, which are rather vague, are that “the richest pay their fair share and corporations cannot avoid their tax responsibilities”. The rhetoric of the first one implies that a punitive wealth tax seems appropriate; the second I can only simulate by putting up corporate tax rates. I follow that up by limiting debt agency activity, to help the poorest.

Then I focus on policies, y’know, for kids. I increase child benefit because a) the Lib-Dems have committed to extending child care to two-year-olds, and b) because it’s the only way of simulating a rise in the bottom tax band in Democracy 3. I lift a few people out of poverty and feel a bit happier.

It’s worth noting that because we’ve started with the same starting conditions as Labour and Conservatives, we have the same starting problems  alcoholism, an asthma epidemic, homelessness, organised crime, low productivity, technological backwardness, ghettos, street gangs, and vigilante mobs to deal with them. Getting rid of any of these would probably help us win the next election, but they’re all horribly sticky and tend to require tons of spare money – which we don’t have.

In the next six months, I hit education. Using the cash from the tax rises, I increase the main state education budget by £2.5bn, and carry out the commitment to free school meals. I also stomp on creationism that’s crept into the education system and change sex education to make it more explicit. Oddly enough, liberals love me and the religious hate me.

Another dilemma forces me to legalise GM crops  which I later learn is counter to Lib Dem policy. Meanwhile, a man dressed as a superhero is keeping the crime rate down singlehandedly  perhaps it’s the Kinnock-nemesis Captain Beany who’s taken to wearing a suspiciously orange suit. Very unusually, he pops up a couple of times over the term giving the crime rate a solid thumping.

I’ve got a nearly balanced budget now, but I need more cuts to fulfil that big NHS funding commitment. I can’t touch pensions because of the "triple lock" promise the coalition partners both share, so I slash the army budget instead, right down to "purely ceremonial" and hope no one notices. Eventually, they do.

Meanwhile, it’s that time again  the global economy is crashing! Despite running a really solid budget surplus, my credit rating is downgraded. That’s not a big problem, as we’ve done what we promised and balanced the budget. Now we can unbalance it.

We start with a small step, by subsidising bicycles. Our bigger commitments, like doubling the billions already in science funding, might have to wait until the economy’s on a better footing.

One pillar of the Lib Dem manifesto is healthy eating, particularly restricting the marketing of junk food to children. The sim can’t quite do that, but we can tax junk food to high heaven and run a healthy eating campaign, which happens to be another manifesto commitment.

Another aspect of that health policy is more controversial. A minimum unit price for alcohol can be represented by a simple raise in alcohol duty, but it really hits the poor in their pockets hard, undoing the good work of our child welfare improvements earlier. In comparison to alcohol, there isn’t a commitment to legalise cannabis  but there is to effectively decriminalise it, by diverting people caught with personal quantities into treatment or civil penalties. Unfortunately, there’s no way of representing that in the game.

The Lib Dems have a pretty positive international agenda  but they still pander to the immigration moral panic to show that they can play with the big boys. So, while we improve foreign relations at every turn, appointing an internationally-popular UN ambassador for example, we also have to improve border controls, so that only highly-skilled immigrants can get in. I also establish a trade council to give international trade a boost, and jack up our diplomatic service too. When an extradition dilemma pops up  do you want to send this terror suspect to somewhere he’ll be tortured and probably killed? – we keep him in the UK.

Sadly, after a year of surviving the global recession, in one bad quarter my carefully-curated surplus turns into a £30bn deficit. Ugh. At least the global slowdown seems to be slowing its dive, so this should only be temporary. Ish. As soon as it starts to recover, I’ll kick a stimulus package out there. In the meantime, I do a quick reshuffle because my ministers aren’t performing, to make sure I have enough influence to pass policies.

But what policies? The Lib Dems still have hundreds of them, and I don’t know what order to go at them in, or how to implement most of them. It’s starting to feel like the Lib Dems drew their inspiration for their piecemeal policies from this game, so closely do they fit. For example, they want to fundamentally shift prison to being about rehabilitation not punishment  which is, to me, a rational, philosophically coherent position that should be at the heart of governmental criminal policy and that I implement to the full  but it’s buried away between pettifogging commitments to Community Justice Panels, Youth Justice Boards and Women’s Justice Boards.

There’s just over a year left of this parliament, and 44 per cent of the electorate are onside. Apart from a few hundred whackjobs in the "Crusaders of the Lord" paramilitary cult, who seem determined to kill Clegg. The biggest problem, which is causing the other major problems like street gangs and vigilantes, is unemployment. The graphs are stark. Unemployment feeds all alcoholism, homelessness, organised crime, ghettos, street gangs, and vigilante mobs, all of which feed into each other. I’ve really hardly dented them.

Now there’s a £50bn gap in income versus expenditure. I need to find policies that boost the economy pronto as the global economy is carrying on going down six months longer than it did for Labour. What to do? Flood prevention research? Too pricey, not stimulating. Electric cars? I implement them, but Mr Tesla is hardly going to create many jobs in the UK.

Ah, simple things. I implement expensive small business grants and start a telecommuting initiative. I throw a lot of money into road building, train subsidies, and the like (all based on manifesto commitments), and whack up Capital Gains Tax (which I’d forgotten to do at the start). A huge spending stimulus that bumps up GDP over our last six months.

And we cruise to a safe election  partly because 33 per cent of the electorate didn’t turn up. If anything, that was easier than Labour’s victory because the Lib Dems had so many little tweaks that they wanted to do, most of which had a positive effect in the simulation, even though they had similar ringfences to the Tories.

The only people who didn’t end up liking them were capitalists, patriots, the wealthy, and the religious. I can’t really say that they had anything amounting to a coherent agenda except "do what’s cheap, effective and wins votes". Which I’m sure was Reagan’s slogan in ‘81. Maybe we should give that Clegg chap another chance..?

Read our methodology here. Follow the rest of the series as it unfolds here. And here's what happened with the manifestos in the 2010 election.

Nicola Sturgeon. Photo: Getty
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For the first time in decades, there is genuine dissent in Scottish Nationalist ranks

The First Minister is facing pressure to talk less about independence - and bring on new talent in her party.

She so recently seemed all-powerful, licensed to reign for as long as she chose, with the authority to pursue the return of our national sovereignty. We would then have the ability to strike our own deals on our own terms, a smaller, smarter, leaner nation freed from the stifling constraints of partnership with a much larger neighbour. There was, she repeatedly told us, nothing to be afraid of.

Now, suddenly, she is the victim of her own miscalculation: having misread the public mood, having raced too far ahead of moderate opinion, she finds herself at bay. The voters have delivered a public humiliation, while an opposition party until recently lampooned as unelectable is on the march. There is, suddenly, talk of her departure sooner rather than later.

Yes, this is a tough time to be Nicola Sturgeon…

Let’s not overstate it. The position of Scotland’s First Minister is considerably more secure than that of the UK’s Prime Minister. Theresa May wants out as soon as is feasible; Sturgeon, one suspects, will have to be dragged from Bute House. Sturgeon retains enough respect among the public and support among her colleagues to plough on for now. Nevertheless, things are not what they were before the general election and are unlikely ever to return to that happy state.

It’s all because of Scexit, of course. Sturgeon’s unseemly sprint for the indy finishing line left enough Scottish voters feeling… what? Mistreated, taken for granted, rushed, patronised, bullied… so much so that they effectively used June 8 to deliver a second No vote. With the idea of another referendum hanging around like a bad headache, the electorate decided to stage an intervention. In just two years, Sturgeon lost 40 per cent of her Westminster seats and displaced half a million votes. One could almost argue that, by comparison, Theresa May did relatively well.

For the first time in decades, there is genuine dissent in Nationalist ranks. Tommy Sheppard, a former Labour Party official who is now an influential left-wing SNP MP, published an article immediately after the general election calling on the First Minister to ‘park’ a second referendum until the Brexit negotiations are complete. There are others who believe the party should rediscover its talent for the long game: accept the public mood is unlikely to change much before the 2021 devolved elections, at which point, even if the Nats remain the single largest party, Holyrood might find itself with a unionist majority; concentrate on improving the public services, show what might be done with all the powers of an independent nation, and wait patiently until the numbers change.

There are others – not many, but some – who would go further. They believe that Sturgeon should take responsibility for the election result, and should be looking to hand over to a new generation before 2021. The old guard has had its shot and its time: a party with veterans such as Sturgeon, John Swinney and Mike Russell in the key jobs looks too much like it did 20 years ago. Even the new Westminster leader, Ian Blackford, has been on the scene for donkey’s. There are more who believe that the iron grip the First Minister and her husband, SNP chief executive Peter Murrell, have on the party is unhealthy – that Murrell should carry the can for the loss of 21 MPs, and that he certainly would have done so if he weren’t married to the boss.

The most likely outcome, given what we know about the First Minister’s nature, is that she will choose something like the Sheppard route: talk less about independence for the next 18 months, see what the Brexit deal looks like, keep an eye on the polls and if they seem favourable go for a referendum in autumn 2019. The question is, can a wearied and increasingly cynical public be won round by then? Will people be willing to pile risk upon risk?

As the hot takes about Jeremy Corbyn’s surprise election performance continue to flood in, there has been a lot of attention given to the role played by young Britons. The issues of intergenerational unfairness, prolonged austerity and hard Brexit, coupled with Corbyn’s optimistic campaigning style, saw a sharp rise in turnout among that demographic. Here, Scotland has been ahead of the curve. In the 2014 referendum, the Yes campaign and its can-do spirit of positivity inspired huge enthusiasm among younger Scots. Indeed, only a large and slightly panicked defensive response from over-65s saved the union.

That brush with calamity seems to have been close enough for many people: many of the seats taken from the Nats by the Scottish Tories at the general election were rural, well-to-do and relatively elderly. The modern electorate is a fickle thing, but it remains rational. The Corbynites, amid their plans for total world domination and their ongoing festival of revenge, might bear that in mind.

Chris Deerin is the New Statesman's contributing editor (Scotland). 

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