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Where does Labour go from here?

Karim Palant, Ed Balls' former head of policy, explains where Labour goes next.

So it was the economy - stupid - after all. The pessimists among us kept expecting our position in the polls to unravel. Like Lynton Crosby, we awaited the date when "crossover" would arrive. As weeks to polling day became days and hours, we began to hope that it might not happen.

But at the cruellest possible moment, just as I’d fully dosed up on the Kool-Aid, it did.  In the stunned silence of HQ, thoughts turned to those millions of pencils wavering over millions of ballot papers. At my desk by twenty to ten I had used the wait to draft an email of comments on the draft a Lib Dem coalition negotiating position. I paused over the send button, worried about tempting fate. My own wavering pencil. The email is still in “drafts”.

The debate about how we avoid a loss like that again will range widely - as it should. What some call political body language, tone and message frequency is a huge part of it. Political positioning is as much about what you choose to say often and what you choose to say only occasionally. The voters we need to reach may pay just a few minutes a year’s worth of attention to politics – around election time in the main.  They may know that we have a deficit, that people are worse off and that the combination is miserable. But may have heard somewhere that finally things are apparently looking up.

It is perfectly consistent to both want change yet also to worry that what positives there are might be put at risk by change: your job, your savings, your pension or your mortgage. An opposition needs people to feel that they don't pose any risk but do offer big enough change to make taking a chance worth it. It's like trying to make an omelette without the public thinking you're breaking any eggs.

That is why successful leaders of the opposition are so rare. Measured by winning a majority, as a thirty four year-old, there has been one in my lifetime. So for example, the public do feel that banks, energy companies, rail companies, supermarkets and letting agents rip them off.  That might make some feel that Labour’s route back into voters’ hearts is a version of “my enemy’s enemy is my friend”. But people are just as wary of a potential government that is too happy to make enemies. And making it crystal clear you really understand voters’ concerns on spending, on immigration and on welfare, rather than seeking to change the subject is the only route to regaining their trust - they won’t ignore those just because they agree with you about other things.

That is easier said than done. Debates about the past are one thing – and humility or showing that we have learned from our mistakes are important. But reassurance really means showing we have the strength to deliver a tough and responsible approach in the future. Our shadow cabinet and leadership do understand the policy challenge. Part of my job was to stop spending commitments. Shadow ministers weren’t battering at the door with a wish list of expensive promises. They get that the game has changed.

But an opposition gets limited moments to reach the public. We need to be willing to them to reassure and resist the urge communicate a sense of radical disruptive change without making it clear, limited, and concrete. We should also absorb the fact that we are talking fiscal discipline not only because the voters want us to but because it matters to the country and it matters to us.

Voters want a leader who will lie awake worrying about the fact that national debt as a share of our economy is forecast to still be 70 per cent in 2020. That is almost double the pre-crisis level and more than where it was forecast to peak - this year - when George Osborne came to office. This shows the scale of the failure of the wasted years of the last Parliament.

But this understanding alone is not enough to either sort out the public finances or to win the election. Labour can only win in 2020 by arguing that a progressive approach to fiscal responsibility means a combination not just of spending cuts or higher tax revenues, but balanced and sustained growth. It would not make any economic or political sense to seek to out-cut the Tories for whom reducing the size of the state is a raison-d’être. And as a party, we don’t believe most working people are comfortably off and can afford significant new tax rises - which limits the scope for raising revenue.

So, many have correctly concluded that we will not win the next election without growth, productivity, exports and innovation at the core of our approach. Talking about ways to deliver a step change in digital jobs, infrastructure, science, a green economy, a pro-growth tax framework for business and a regional revival are not nice-to-haves but essential parts of making Labour’s argument stack up.

We should not focus on growth or living standards because we want to avoid talking about the difficult bits – but precisely because it is core to our plan to deal with those difficult issues facing the country. A related conclusion that we cannot avoid is that to prosecute that argument you must truly value the private sector’s role in driving those things. 

These are key among the lessons we will need to learn for the next five years. And whoever wins will need to get serious, quickly. The consequence of not doing so will be millions more wavering pencils in 2020.

Karim Palant was head of policy to Ed Balls. 

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The UK press’s timid reaction to Brexit is in marked contrast to the satire unleashed on Trump

For the BBC, it seems, to question leaving the EU is to be unpatriotic.

Faced with arguably their biggest political-cum-constitutional ­crisis in half a century, the press on either side of the pond has reacted very differently. Confronting a president who, unlike many predecessors, does not merely covertly dislike the press but rages against its supposed mendacity as a purveyor of “fake news”, the fourth estate in the US has had a pretty successful first 150-odd days of the Trump era. The Washington Post has recovered its Watergate mojo – the bloodhound tenacity that brought down Richard Nixon. The Post’s investigations into links between the Kremlin and Donald Trump’s associates and appointees have yielded the scalp of the former security adviser Michael Flynn and led to Attorney General Jeff Sessions recusing himself from all inquiries into Trump-Russia contacts. Few imagine the story will end there.

Meanwhile, the New York Times has cast off its image as “the grey lady” and come out in sharper colours. Commenting on the James Comey memo in an editorial, the Times raised the possibility that Trump was trying to “obstruct justice”, and called on Washington lawmakers to “uphold the constitution”. Trump’s denunciations of the Times as “failing” have acted as commercial “rocket fuel” for the paper, according to its CEO, Mark Thompson: it gained an “astonishing” 308,000 net digital news subscriptions in the first quarter of 2017.

US-based broadcast organisations such as CNN and ABC, once considered slick or bland, have reacted to Trump’s bullying in forthright style. Political satire is thriving, led by Saturday Night Live, with its devastating impersonations of the president by Alec Baldwin and of his press secretary Sean Spicer by the brilliant Melissa McCarthy.

British press reaction to Brexit – an epic constitutional, political and economic mess-up that probably includes a mind-bogglingly destructive self-ejection from a single market and customs union that took decades to construct, a move pushed through by a far-right faction of the Tory party – has been much more muted. The situation is complicated by the cheerleading for Brexit by most of the British tabloids and the Daily Telegraph. There are stirrings of resistance, but even after an election in which Theresa May spectacularly failed to secure a mandate for her hard Brexit, there is a sense, though the criticism of her has been intense, of the media pussy-footing around a government in disarray – not properly interrogating those who still seem to promise that, in relation to Europe, we can have our cake and eat it.

This is especially the case with the BBC, a state broadcaster that proudly proclaims its independence from the government of the day, protected by the famous “arm’s-length” principle. In the case of Brexit, the BBC invoked its concept of “balance” to give equal airtime and weight to Leavers and Remainers. Fair enough, you might say, but according to the economist Simon Wren-Lewis, it ignored a “near-unanimous view among economists that Brexit would hurt the UK economy in the longer term”.

A similar view of “balance” in the past led the BBC to equate views of ­non-scientific climate contrarians, often linked to the fossil-fuel lobby, with those of leading climate scientists. Many BBC Remainer insiders still feel incensed by what they regard as BBC betrayal over Brexit. Although the referendum of 23 June 2016 said nothing about leaving the single market or the customs union, the Today presenter Justin Webb, in a recent interview with Stuart Rose, put it like this: “Staying in the single market, staying in the customs union – [Leave voters would say] you might as well not be leaving. That fundamental position is a matter of democracy.” For the BBC, it seems, to question Brexit is somehow to be unpatriotic.

You might think that an independent, pro-democratic press would question the attempted use of the arcane and archaic “royal prerogative” to enable the ­bypassing of parliament when it came to triggering Article 50, signalling the UK’s departure from the EU. But when the campaigner Gina Miller’s challenge to the government was upheld by the high court, the three ruling judges were attacked on the front page of the Daily Mail as “enemies of the people”. Thomas Jefferson wrote that he would rather have “newspapers without a government” than “a government without newspapers”. It’s a fair guess he wasn’t thinking of newspapers that would brand the judiciary as “enemies of the people”.

It does seem significant that the United States has a written constitution, encapsulating the separation and balance of powers, and explicitly designed by the Founding Fathers to protect the young republic against tyranny. When James Madison drafted the First Amendment he was clear that freedom of the press should be guaranteed to a much higher degree in the republic than it had been in the colonising power, where for centuries, after all, British monarchs and prime ministers have had no qualms about censoring an unruly media.

By contrast, the United Kingdom remains a hybrid of monarchy and democracy, with no explicit protection of press freedom other than the one provided by the common law. The national impulse to bend the knee before the sovereign, to obey and not question authority, remains strangely powerful in Britain, the land of Henry VIII as well as of George Orwell. That the United Kingdom has slipped 11 places in the World Press Freedom Index in the past four years, down to 40th, has rightly occasioned outrage. Yet, even more awkwardly, the United States is three places lower still, at 43rd. Freedom of the press may not be doing quite as well as we imagine in either country.

Harry Eyres is the author of Horace and Me: Life Lessons from an Ancient Poet (2013)

This article first appeared in the 20 July 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The new world disorder