The EU question exposes our leaders' flimsy slogans

Is Miliband's "One Nation" Labour pro-integration? Is EU membership an advantage in Cameron's "Global Race"? They don't really know.

It will be a momentous day when Britain does finally make a decision about its membership of the European Union. With David Cameron about to promise a referendum that includes the prospect of the UK leaving, the debate begins immediately – even if the Prime Minister doesn’t envisage the poll taking place until well into the next parliament.

As I wrote in this week’s magazine, Labour’s policy is currently not to match Cameron’s pledge straight away. That doesn’t mean Ed Miliband won’t get bounced into having a referendum in his manifesto by 2015. Even those in the shadow cabinet who argue against what they see as an irresponsible toying with the UK’s diplomatic and economic fortunes admit it would be a challenge to get through an election campaign without a referendum offer when the Tories are gleefully touting theirs. (The same goes for the Lib Dems, who had a referendum - in the event of significant EU changes - buried deep in their 2010 manifesto.)

So the next two years will be thick with European argument. Thick, but not necessarily rich. By that I mean, judging by the standards of recent political debate, we can expect rhetorical chicanery and wilful obfuscation to trump evidence and rational analysis.

To illustrate the point, I found myself considering how the European issue – obviously a matter of paramount significance to the nation – fits into the great intellectual frameworks that the two main party leaders have set themselves. That is, on the Conservative side, “The Global Race” and on the Labour side “One Nation”. Cameron crowbars the global race into every public pronouncement and parliamentary answer he gives. He got at least four "global races" into last week's press conference launching the coalition's mid-term review. The essential point is that Britain must be made competitive in a scary global world and that requires lean finances, education reforms, low taxes, deregulation and maybe a spot of strategic investment in snazzy up-and-coming industries. It is Cameron’s big thing, or rather his biggest thing since the Big Society, which turned out to be a small thing. Or no thing at all.

Miliband, meanwhile, conceives One Nation Labour as the answer to the question ‘what comes after New Labour if it is not to be a return to Old Labour?’ It is all about solidarity and harnessing a spirit of patriotic national renewal to re-imagine what government can do and how it can serve citizens at a time of austerity. (He has a speech on this very subject today, trailed in this morning's Guardian. There's a more detailed, albeit mildly fawning preview here.)

The new rule in Labour policy making is that any new announcement or initiative has to have a plausible One Nation rubric. The equivalent rule on the Conservative side is that a measure or policy should boost Britain’s chances in the Global Race. So these are the two competing, over-arching themes governing Labour and Tory thinking at the highest level; the Narrative, as political strategists like to say. Presumably then, they clarify where those parties stand on the vital question of Britain’s relationship with the European Union.

Let’s start with the Global Race. This should be easy enough. Britain needs to compete with rising Asian powerhouse economies but it is shackled to the rotting corpse of continental states, bloated on welfare and overrun with unemployed youths, underskilled and without prospects because rigid labour protections lock them out of the jobs market. So to compete in the global race, we must break free from the EU.

Or, the future of trade, commerce and the global economy lies in the relationship between great continental power blocs. China doesn’t care about the UK the way it cares about the US or Brazil. But it does care about the European single market and if London doesn’t have a say in how that system operates and what the terms of trade are, we will be an isolated and desolate outpost starved of investment and influence. So to compete in the Global Race we must by at the very heart of the EU. Hmm.

What about One Nation? Well, at first sight, putting national solidarity at the heart of policy might suggest qualms about the notorious surrender of sovereignty associated with membership of the EU. So perhaps a One Nation Europe policy would support repatriation of powers from Brussels.

Although, there is an argument that says a powerful voice in the EU – and the social protections that European institutions guarantee – is our best bulwark against the corrosive forces of unfettered free market capitalism that hollow out communities and lead to a race to the bottom in workers' rights. So a One Nation European policy is actually pro-EU because it wants Britain to be a progressive place that looks much more part of the social market/social democratic traditions of the continent than the neo-liberal, individualistic free-for-all culture of the US.

Of course you can play this game with pretty much any policy and any slogan. The point isn’t that the Global Race and One Nation are vacuous phrases – as concepts they have great potential to illuminate all kinds of debates in British politics. But I have a feeling that they won’t. I’m pretty confident that when David Cameron and Ed Miliband set out their European positions in the next few weeks, the former will be all about the Global Race and the latter will be about One Nation. I’m also confident we won’t be any closer to knowing what either of them really means.

The Prime Minister and the Labour leader exchange small talk. Source: Getty

Rafael Behr is political columnist at the Guardian and former political editor of the New Statesman

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How did I, obsessed with non-places, not know about the Trafford Centre?

My wife had booked us all in to a showing of the latest Bond film at the IMAX Cinema at the Trafford Centre. “Why the Trafford Centre?” I taxed her. She looked at me as if I were a complete ass, but refused to enlighten me. 

Last year I bought a copy of J G Ballard’s last novel, Kingdom Come, a dystopic tale of the near future in which bored suburbanites descend into anomic violence as they retreat inside a giant shopping mall. Predictably, I bought my copy at the Bluewater shopping mall in north Kent, on the outskirts of London. Bluewater held the title of Britain’s biggest shopping mall for a number of years and it is surpassing large: a huge circular corridor that has become a destination. I asked a police officer where the Waterstones was and discovered she was a good old-fashioned bobby-on-the-beat – her beat having been, for seven years, to walk slowly around and around . . . Bluewater.

But I wasn’t fettered by Bluewater’s surly gravity, any more than I was galvanised by rampant consumerism. Novel purchased, I took a cab over the soaring Queen Elizabeth II Bridge to Essex, where I alighted at Bluewater’s twin establishment: the Lakeside shopping mall in West Thurrock. I headed for the Lakeside branch of Waterstones, where I . . . well, you guessed it: I returned my copy of Kingdom Come. This surreal little exercise was undertaken for the BBC Radio 4 documentary Malled: Sixty Years of Undercover Shopping, and I’ve detailed it here purely in order to illustrate this point: I have more than a passing interest in shopping malls.

This is why the events of a fortnight ago, when Family Self went up to Manchester for what is termed, I believe, a “city break”, seemed quite so bizarre. My wife had booked us all in to a showing of the latest Bond film at the IMAX Cinema at the Trafford Centre. “Why the Trafford Centre?” I taxed her. “It’s in Trafford, which is five miles from the city centre.” She looked at me as if I were a complete ass, but refused to enlighten me. My revelation came later, when we were wandering the rococo halls of the Trafford Centre, marvelling at the lashings of gold leaf applied to the serried columns as our soles slapped on the Italian marble flooring. My wife couldn’t believe that one such as I, obsessed by what the French philosopher Marc Augé has named “non-places”, didn’t know about the Trafford Centre.

But I didn’t – it was a 207,000-square-metre hole in my map of the world. I knew nothing of the bitter and protracted wrangling that attended its inception, as successive planning applications were rejected by ever higher authorities, until our Noble Lords had to step in to ensure future generations will be able to buy their schmutter at TK Maxx and then sip their lattes at Starbucks without having to brave the harsh Lancashire elements. Did I feel small as my savvier spouse led me through these storied halls? You bet your waddling, wobbling, standing-still-on-the-travelator bum I did. How could I not have known about the great central dome of the Trafford mall, which is bigger – and statelier – than that of St Paul’s? How could I have been unaware of the Orient, Europe’s largest food court, with its seating for 1,800 diners, served by a plethora of exciting outlets including Harry Ramsden’s, Carluccio’s and those piquant bun-pushers, McDonald’s?

Actually, the Orient completely bowled me over. The Trafford Centre’s imagineers point to the nearby Manchester Ship Canal as influencing this wholly novel and utterly weird space, which is formed by a sort of Möbius strip of 1930s ocean-liner design, being at once superstructure – railings, funnels, tables arranged to simulate the deckchairs on a sun deck – and interior. However, nothing like this ever cruised by Runcorn. Not that I object to this, any more than I objected to the cluttered corridor full of orientalism – noodle bars, sushi joints, all-you-can-eat Chinese barbecues – that debouched from it and led us back into the weirdly glistering main retail areas, with their ornamental griffins and neoclassical columns bodged up out of medium-density fibreboard.

The Trafford Centre’s imagineers also make great play of design features – such as the aforementioned griffins – that are meant to tie the humongous mall to its hinterland (these are the heraldic symbols of the de Traffords, who used to own hereabouts), and to the north-east’s proud industrial heritage. But this is all ornamental balls; the truth is that the Trafford Centre’s ambience is so sumptuously wacky, it could quite reasonably be twinned with Las Vegas.

While the rest of the family went in search of retail opportunities, I watched the Mancunians process. It occurred to me that if there were any influences at work here – besides the Baudrillardian ones of hyperreality and simulation that underpin so much of the contemporary built environment – it was the presence of a large British Asian community. The only people who didn’t look out of both place and time, wandering about among all the gilded pomp and crystalline circumstance, were women wearing saris, shalwar kameez and burqas. Tracksuit bottoms and hoodies just didn’t cut it – although, I concede, come the breakdown in civil society anticipated in Kingdom Come, this pseudo-sportswear will come into its own as the perfect pillaging outfit.

Next week: Lives of Others

Will Self is an author and journalist. His books include Umbrella, Shark, The Book of Dave and The Butt. He writes the Madness of Crowds and Real Meals columns for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 26 November 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Terror vs the State