Labour needs to be bolder on education

The real "One Nation" opportunity.

Education is one area about which Ed Miliband has had little to say – but it is actually rife with radical "One Nation" policies. 

If Ed Miliband was nervous before his "One Nation" conference speech, he at least knew that a few lines were guaranteed to attract the desired response from his audience. Like “Michael Gove”.

The pantomime boos that greeted Miliband’s mention of Gove’s name showed the animosity Labour holds him in. But while criticisms of Gove’s policies as Education Secretary might be an expedient way of getting a few cheers, they miss a deeper point. Whatever the merits of Gove’s solutions to British education, he is at least right in his underlying diagnosis that something isn’t working. The attainment gap between private and state education is the highest in Europe.

Labour’s educational policy is much better known for what it opposes – above all, Gove’s free schools - than what it actually supports. The party’s policy on academies, the centerpiece of New Labour’s education reforms, remains somewhat confused. This had better change, and fast: while both Labour and the Conservatives exaggerate the significance of free schools, academies are where Gove’s true radicalism has been. After the last election, there were 203 academies; there are now 1957 (compared to 79 free schools). Labour needs to outline exactly how it would deal with these new academies and indeed formulate its vision for education in this country. Miliband’s outlining of plans for “the forgotten 50 per cent” is certainly a positive step. But there remains a fundamental problem: Labour needs to lay out coherent ideas for how to improve state schools when substantially greater investment isn't deemed a viable option.

For inspiration, Labour needs only to turn to the NHS. As schools do, the NHS has to compete with private alternatives. Why do the public have a better perception of state hospitals than state schools? One of the reasons is that, while the best teachers can move away from the state sector that is not true of the best doctors – the principle that those who work in the private health sector must also contribute to the NHS helps mitigate differences in the quality of care provided in the two. Doctors have been state-subsidised to do their degrees (as is still the case under the new tuition fees) and it seems only right that their skills should benefit all, not just those who can afford it.

The idea is, perhaps, the very embodiment of "One Nationism" at work. And it could relatively easily be mimicked where schools are concerned, mandating that all teachers spend at least half their career in the state sector.

For all the life advantages private schools give their pupils only so much can be apportioned to simply better facilities. More than anything, parents pay for the best teaching; and, while there are many excellent teachers in the state sector, a disproportionate number of the best teachers are at private schools. A sensible policy to amend this would provide a compelling vision of how Labour plans to improve the quality of state schools.

This could be accompanied by asking more of private schools in return for their charitable status. While opening up school playing fields is a worthy idea and should be extended, there is ample scope for more imaginative thinking: for instance, mandating that private schools invite pupils from nearby state schools to special classes for Oxbridge candidates.

Labour can't allow its educational policy to be caricatured as being mere defenders of a status quo that isn't working. Just as investment provides no guarantee of tangible improvement in education, so a shortage of it needn’t stop state schools getting better. Indeed, an absence of money has actually created a climate rifer for radical educational ideas. As Labour proclaims to speak for "One Nation" it needs to be proposing them.

 

Ed Milliband. Photograph: Getty Images

Tim Wigmore is a contributing writer to the New Statesman and the author of Second XI: Cricket In Its Outposts.

Gage Skidmore via Creative Commons
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Donald Trump brings home his dark vision of America at the Republican convention

The Presidential nominee pledged: "Safety must be restored."

Donald Trump brought home the Republican convention Thursday night with a dark vision of contemporary America – a darkness he claimed only his leadership could lift. It was a lengthy, tightly-scripted speech framed around polarities – insiders and outsiders, criminals and victims, the United States and the rest of the world – and infused with righteous anger. And yet against the darkness, he offered not lightness but “greatness” – a bombastic, personalistic vision of how through sheer force of will he could right the American ship before it plunged irretrievably into the depths. “I alone can solve,” he famously tweeted earlier in the campaign. This was the 80-minute version.

Any presidential challenger, of course, has to lay out a set of problems they believe need fixing and a case for why their leadership might make a difference. It was the breathtaking scale and intensity of Trump’s diagnosis, and the lack of optimistic alternative to counterbalance it, that was notable compared to other acceptance speeches. He portrayed the United States as a country riddled with crime and corruption, a “rigged system” in which politicians like Hillary Clinton can evade justice, while police officers trying to protect its citizens become targets; a fearful country, its economy sluggish, its infrastructure crumbling, its security an illusion, and its international stature in freefall

For a candidate who has mocked the soaring rhetoric of President Obama (the “hopey-changey stuff,” as Sarah Palin once called it), it was perhaps not surprising that Trump’s speech would be short on uplift. It was at least more disciplined than his other campaign speeches, if in keeping with their tone and content – the much-maligned teleprompter rolling a script to which he largely stuck. (“He sounds presidential,” a lady behind me remarked, though his press conference Friday morning marked a reversion to free-wheeling form).

It was short on substance too, though acceptance speeches aren’t designed to be policy laundry lists like a State of the Union. Still, there were few specifics, beyond a pledge to revise tax laws which inhibit religious groups from political advocacy, and a newfound concern with student loans. It was daughter Ivanka’s speech that had the greater substantive heft, promising her father would push for new labour laws to help working mothers, and for affordable childcare in the US. Neither are traditional Republican positions, but the crowd seemed on board for anything Trump might offer.

He even had them cheering for LGBTQ rights, after recalling the tragedy in Florida last month, and the need to protect gay Americans from a “hateful foreign ideology” in radical Islam. “It is so nice as a Republican to hear you cheering for what I just said,” he commended the delegates in an unscripted moment. But whether they had really embraced this unexpected message – or if it was the anti-terror chaser that really got them on their feet – remains to be seen. In either case, it was a rare grace note in an otherwise bruising speech.

Presenting himself repeatedly as the candidate of “law and order,” Trump evoked Richard Nixon’s 1968 presidential campaign. At a time when American cities were erupting in race riots and protests over the Vietnam War, Nixon had pitched himself as the face of stability and security. Likewise Trump has reacted to the simmering racial tensions and terrorist attacks this summer with a hard-line stance on “lawlessness.” “Safety must be restored,” Trump said, in one of the eerier lines he delivered. Yet in his convention speech, Nixon had balanced his tough talk with a positive message – speaking of love, courage, and lighting a “lamp of hope” in partnership with the American people. 

Trump channeled another president in his speech, too, when he promised to give voice to “the forgotten men and women of our country” – drawing on the language of Franklin Roosevelt. Roosevelt had promised to aid “the forgotten man at the bottom of the economic pyramid” during the 1932 campaign. But Roosevelt’s solution to the forgotten man’s distress was economic internationalism – tearing down tariff walls and trading freely with the world – which the Republican Party then opposed. Trump’s solution is the protectionist policies Roosevelt had railed against.

Trump’s economic and security philosophy is encapsulated in another, more notorious phrase associated with that era: “America First.” A rallying cry for isolationists seeking to avoid US entanglement in World War II, it acquired an anti-Semitic taint. But Trump has employed it nonetheless, capturing as it does his core argument that America must do more to protect its own citizens against threats from within and without – from illegal immigrants, from radicalized Islamic terrorists, from the downsides of free international trade. Little wonder that former George W.

Bush staffer Nicolle Wallace announced that the Republican party she knew “died in this room tonight.” In embracing elements of isolationism, protectionism, and nativism, however, it is perhaps truer to say that Trump’s Republican party reverted to an earlier form.

Often disconcerting, at times mesmerizing, the question remains how effective this speech will be. The delegates responded enthusiastically to Trump’s fierce rhetoric, but many prominent Republicans had stayed away from the convention altogether. Combined with Senator Ted Cruz’s non-endorsement, Trump goes into the general election campaign without a fully united party behind him. For both partisans and the public, Trump’s speech offered a cast of villains to rally against, but no positive, unifying vision to rally behind – beyond the much-touted yet elusive “greatness,” of course. In a typical election year, that would seem a critical flaw in a campaign – but Trump loves to confound the naysayers. As his convention speech showed, he thinks the formula that got him this far - showcasing his fame and fanning Americans’ fears – can land him in the White House.