Michael Dugher speaking at Labour conference last year. Photo: YouTube screengrab
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"Too many pointy-heads and too few street fighters": Labour's Michael Dugher on what went wrong

Michael Dugher MP, who served as vice-chair of the party in Ed Miliband's top team, on identity politics, emotion over intellect, and "fucking up" the Scottish referendum campaign.

Michael Dugher was watching television at home in Barnsley, South Yorkshire, when the exit poll was released at 10pm on 7 May. Normally, he is willing to concede the remote control to his three children, who prefer the Disney Channel to politics, even when their father is on screen. But this was a moment he couldn’t miss. “It was quite a big shock,” Dugher says, wincing at the memory of the poll, which gave the Conservatives a firm lead. “It was genuine disbelief.”

He sighs. “And then we had the Nun­eaton result [a target seat, which Labour lost]. It’s funny, really. It’s like conceding loads of ­early goals and you know the rest of the game is over. I knew we were buggered.”

It can’t be easy for someone such as Dugher to lose control of the ball as spectacularly as Labour did that night. A veteran backroom operator, he is still known in Westminster for his time in Downing Street as Gordon Brown’s spokesman. After his election as MP for Barnsley East in 2010, he continued in the vein of a Brownite fixer for Ed Miliband’s team, becoming party vice-chair in 2011, doggedly attacking the government and keeping an eye on the grass roots.

But this formerly loyal figure now has something to get off his chest. We meet on the Commons Terrace the Monday after the weekend of shock and heartache post Labour’s defeat. I can see a Tory MP enjoying a bottle of champagne with his staff two tables away. Dugher is attempting to eat a collapsing burger from a polystyrene box. I can’t help commenting that at least it’s not a bacon sandwich. He grins, valiantly.

The Yorkshireman is back in parliament for the first meeting of Labour’s new shadow cabinet, in which he’ll remain shadow transport secretary (a position he has held since last November). He looks smart and ready for business, in a dark jacket, pale blue shirt and gold cufflinks. But his eyes, squinting against the glare of the afternoon sun, ­betray his exhaustion.

Unlike many of his colleagues, Dugher increased his vote share and majority. But Ukip still came in second in Barnsley East, with more than 9,000 votes. “I was one of the people in the party pressing for a stronger response against Ukip back in 2013, and was frustrated that it didn’t happen,” he says. “But I certainly did it in my own patch.” He is perturbed by Labour’s failure to connect with the white working-class population it used to represent. “Working-class voters are not core vote any more – you saw that in Scotland, you saw that in England,” he says. “When we fail politically, we fail the people that we came into politics to represent. I find that – being entirely self-critical – absolutely unforgivable.”

Labour’s vice-chair grew up in a pit village ten miles from his constituency, part of a family of six living in a three-bed house overlooking the colliery. It was his work in unions that landed him a job as a special ­adviser. Yet he didn’t manage to use his background to steer Miliband’s team.

“Like other aspects of our election campaign, we were a bit behind the curve on Ukip. To be honest, the party only really got it after May last year. But it had been frustrating, me and a number of colleagues, who had been . . .” he trails off. “There was a ­naive assumption, back in 2013, that, because Ukip was bad for the Tories, therefore it must be good for us. Whereas, it was really bad for the Tories but quite bad for us.

“We need to drill down and deal with that. These are basically white working-class people. All of us in politics have had blind spots and everything else, but I grew up in a pit village in the Seventies and Eighties, through the miners’ strike. That is the demographic I really do understand.

“Spend time in the real world,” he adds. “We do dwell in London, the Labour Party. And London has cheek-by-jowl poverty . . . but the truth is, there is more to this country than that kind of metropolitan, multicultural, liberal left that is a big part of London. I thought the best thing Ed did was about One Nation. And we just dropped that.”

Dugher admits that Labour’s campaign “didn’t have a wide reach” and is effusive about needing to appeal to the “aspirational middle class” – something recently voiced by leadership candidates Liz ­Kendall and Chuka Umunna as well as by members of the Blairite old guard such as Peter Mandelson. “Equally, you have to reach out to the alienated working-class voters,” he adds. “Aspiration is not an exclusive thing for middle-class voters. Working-class voters are aspirational.”

He places both hands over his heart as he says, “I know that, personally. If you’d have asked me aged ten what I wanted . . . I would have said I would’ve liked my parents to be able to afford a car; I would’ve liked us to go on a foreign holiday. We lived in a warm, loving house, but it was quite a small house for six people, and I might have liked my own bedroom. That’s working-class aspiration.”

This was overlooked by Miliband’s top team, who were drawn from a narrow background. “I’ve always thought that politics is 90 per cent emotion. All parties need a combination of people with different talents and reaches. Ed was very intellectual, he had a brilliant brain; he felt that ideas were the most important thing in politics. And he’s right. But I sometimes felt that he surrounded himself with too many people who were socially just like him: all living within a stone’s throw of each other in north London, all had been to the same university, and all kind of intellectual ­academics . . .”

It is easy to say such things in hindsight, but did Dugher ever warn Miliband about his myopic circle of advisers? “Loads of times. It happened all the time,” Dugher nods. “He’s someone who listened. But he had other people who were more influential, closer to him. You know, you win some, you lose some. But that was always a worry I had. It was too many pointy-heads and too few street fighters.

“As a leader, you’ve got to surround yourself with different people. Ed had some of those people, so I don’t want to overstate it. But too many were just like him. And, for them, politics was 90 per cent intellectual. If the big thing out there is anti politics, you’ve got to show that, actually, you do get it, you are in touch, and you understand.

“When I say it’s 90 per cent emotional, the new axis we’ve got in politics now – the politics of identity – is all about how people feel. We’ve got to get wise to that.”

Dugher refers repeatedly to English identity. “In parts of my constituency, they do fly the flag. And they’re right to be proud of it. It’s as much about their pride and identity as it is a cry for help,” he says. “When they fly that flag, they say, ‘I’m proud of this country, I’m proud to be English, I’m proud of where I come from’; but also, ‘We haven’t gone away, and we deserve a voice, too’.”

With visible frustration, Dugher recalls speaking to Miliband before the Scottish referendum result. “I said polling day will be all about the Scots, but Friday morning will be all about the English. And we need to be out ahead of Cameron with a really serious offer to the English. In the end, it was Cameron who was on the steps of Downing Street. Now, his offer [English votes for English laws] was minuscule, and a threat to the Union; but we were slow off the mark.

“Because too many people didn’t get it, and because we’d incompetently scheduled our conference for the weekend after the referendum, the leadership wanted to close down the issue, and to go back to talking about the cost of living, or whatever it was. We should have welcomed that opportunity to lead that debate. Instead, it was a kind of ‘constitutional convention’, and a ‘regional tour’,” he grimaces. “Which I just don’t think did it.”

Dugher is even more despairing of what he calls Labour’s “annihilation” in Scotland. He blames the Better Together campaign. “Scotland and our approach to it was an unmitigated disaster. We totally fucked up that referendum campaign – and that would almost be a generous and kind interpretation,” he gives a hollow laugh.

“There was a highly visible elephant trap that the SNP set for us, which is that Labour and No would be for the status quo, for Westminster, for London, for the old political establishment and elites – and Scottish Labour all joined hands and they jumped into that elephant trap,” he says. “We shouldn’t have been in bed with the Tories. It was a complete strategic disaster. It killed us. It should have been a contest between two competing alternative visions for a changed Scotland.”

He reserves harsh words for the Scottish Labour MPs, all but one of whom are now out of a job. According to Dugher, many were apathetic about campaigning in their “safe” seats, and shut their English colleagues out of discussions. “You had the politics of neglect,” he says. “Not all – there are some great colleagues who worked extremely hard. But we also had a number of people who had not delivered a leaflet in decades. And there was always an attitude from some of our Scots [MPs] here, that they knew best. ‘Leave Scotland to us,’ they used to say. Well, that worked out well, didn’t it?

“At the same time as making a complete balls-up of Scotland, it had profound implications for England. They wanted to operate in Scotland without any reference at all to the impact on England. Every time they talked about further devolution, the English in the Labour Party were excluded from that conversation.”

Dugher is cagey about who can pull Labour out of this nadir. He does, however, recommend that the party takes its time. “I don’t think we should have a coronation. And it’s perfectly possible for us to chew gum and walk at the same time. We can have a thorough internal debate about our way forward while going after this Tory government.”

But one thing set in stone is that no future Labour leader will ever carve their pledges on to an actual stone again. “Every campaign has balls-ups,” Dugher sighs. “That was a kind of 12-foot, granite, marble, cock-up. But did it change the weather? Nah.”

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 14 May 2015 issue of the New Statesman, The Tory triumph

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Misogynoir: How social media abuse exposes longstanding prejudices against black women

After decades as an MP, Diane Abbott finally spoke out about the racist and sexist abuse she faces. But she's not alone. 

“Which STD will end your miserable life?” “This is why monkeys don’t belong here.” “I hope you get lynched”. These are just some of the many messages Seyi Akiwowo, a Labour councillor in Newham, told me she has been sent over the past three weeks. Akiwowo has received reams of violent and racist abuse after a video of her suggesting former empires pay reparations to countries they once colonised (and whose resources they still continue to plunder) went viral. She doesn’t expect everyone to agree with her, she said, but people seem to think they’re entitled to hurl abuse at her because she’s a black woman.

The particular intensity of misogyny directed at black women is so commonplace that it was given a name by academic Moya Bailey: misogynoir. This was highlighted recently when Diane Abbott, the country’s first and most-well known black woman MP and current shadow Home secretary, spoke out about the violent messages she’s received and continues to receive. The messages are so serious that Abbott’s staff often fear for her safety. There is an implicit point in abuse like this: women of colour, in particular black women, should know their place. If they dare to share their opinions, they’ll be attacked for it.

There is no shortage of evidence to show women of colour are sent racist and sexist messages for simply having an opinion or being in the public eye, but there is a dearth of meaningful responses. “I don’t see social media companies or government leaders doing enough to rectify the issue,” said Akiwowo, who has reported some of the abuse she’s received. Chi Onwurah, shadow minister for Business, Innovation and Skills, agreed. “The advice from social media experts is not to feed the trolls, but that vacates the public space for them," she said. But ignoring abuse is a non-solution. Although Onwurah notes the police and media giants are beginning to take this abuse seriously, not enough is being done.

Akiwowo has conversations with young women of colour who become less sure they want to go into politics after seeing the way people like Abbott have been treated. It’s an unsurprising reaction. Kate Osamor, shadow secretary of state for International Development, argued no one should have to deal with the kind of vitriol Abbott does. It’s well documented that the ease and anonymity of social media platforms like Twitter and Facebook have changed the nature of communication – and for politicians, this means more abuse, at a faster pace and at all hours of the day. Social media, Onwurah said, has given abuse a “new lease of life”. There needs to be a concerted effort to stop people from using these platforms to spout their odious views.

But there is another layer to understanding misogyny and racism in public life. The rapid and anonymous, yet public, nature of social media has shone a light on what women of colour already know to be a reality. Dawn Butler MP, who has previously described racism as the House of Commons’ “dirty little secret”, told me “of course” she has experienced racism and sexism in Parliament: “What surprises me is when other people are surprised”. Perhaps that’s because there’s an unwillingness to realise or really grapple the pervasiveness of misogynoir.

“Sometimes it takes a lot of effort to get someone to understand the discriminatory nature of peoples’ actions,” Butler explained. “That itself is demoralising and exhausting.” After 30 years of racist and sexist treatment, it was only when Abbott highlighted the visceral abuse she experiences that politicians and commentators were willing to speak out in her support. Even then, there seemed to be little recognition of how deep this ran. In recent years, the Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn has been ridiculed for having a relationship with her in the 70s, as if a black woman’s sexuality is both intriguing and laughable; people regularly imply she’s incompetent, despite having been in Parliament for three decades and at the last general election increasing her majority by a staggering amount; she has even been derided by her own colleagues. Those Labour MPs who began the hashtag #PrayforDiane when she was off work because of illness spoke to a form of bullying that wouldn’t be acceptable in most workplaces.

These supposedly less obvious forms of racism and sexism are largely downplayed or seen as unrelated to discrimination. They might be understood through what influential scholar Stuart Hall called the “grammar of race”. Different from overtly racist comments, Hall says there’s a form of racism that’s “inferential”; naturalised representations of people - whether factual or fictional - have “racist premises and propositions inscribed in them as a set of unquestioned assumptions”. Alongside the racist insults hurled at black women politicians like Abbott, there’s a set of racialised tropes that rely on sexualisation or derision to undermine these women.

The streams of abuse on social media aren’t the only barrier people of colour – and women in particular – face when they think about getting into politics. “I don’t think there’s a shortage of people in the black community who put themselves forward to stand for office, you only have to look at when positions come up the list of people that go for the position,” Claudia Webbe, a councillor and member of Labour's ruling body the National Executive Committee told me. As one of the few black women to hold such a position in the history of the Labour party, she knows from her extensive career how the system works. “I think there is both a problem of unfair selection and a problem of BME [black and minority ethnic] people sustaining the course." Conscious and unconscious racial and gender bias means politics are, like other areas of work in the UK, more difficult to get into if you’re a woman of colour.

“The way white women respond to the way black women are treated is integral,” Osamor says, “They are part of the solution”. White women also face venomous and low-lying forms of sexism that are often overlooked, but at times the solidarity given to them is conditional for women of colour. In a leaked letter to The Guardian, Abbott’s staff criticised the police for not acting on death threats, while similar messages sent to Anna Soubry MP resulted in arrest. When the mainstream left talks about women, it usually means white women. This implicitly turns the experiences of women of colour into an afterthought.

The systematic discrimination against women of colour, and its erasure or addendum-like quality, stems from the colonial racial order. In the days of the British empire, white women were ranked as superior to colonised Asian and African women who were at different times seen as overly sexualised or unfeminine. Black women were at the bottom of this hierarchy. Women of colour were essentially discounted as real women. Recognising this does not equate to pitting white women and women of colour against each other. It is simply a case of recognising the fact that there is a distinct issue of racial abuse.

The online abuse women of colour, and black women specifically, is an issue that needs to be highlighted and dealt with. But there are other more insidious ways that racism and sexism manifest themselves in everyday political life, which should not be overlooked. “Thirty years ago I entered parliament to try and be the change I wanted to see,” Abbott wrote. “Despite the personal attacks and the online abuse, that struggle continues.” That struggle must be a collective one.

Maya Goodfellow researches race and racism in Britain. She is a staff writer at LabourList.