Boris Johnson heckled for almost two hours in Lewisham

The mayor was not made to feel welcome.

Boris Johnson faced one of the most hostile audiences of his mayoralty last night at the People's Question Time in Catford, attacked relentlessly over his role in supporting the closure of Lewisham A&E, his money-losing cable car, fire station closures, gun and knife crime, the cross-river tram, and his climate "sceptic" Telegraph column.

The majority of the event, which Boris is legally mandated to attend (explaining why he was to be found in the lion's den), was spent focusing on the closure of the local accident and emergency department and Lewisham hospital. It's a particularly sore point in the area, because, as Rowenna Davis explained, the hospital isn't being closed because it's under performing, but because other local hospitals are under performing. The intention, it seems, is to drive "business" to those hospitals by closing the successful one.

Despite the published schedule, the A&E closure was discussed as part of nearly every topic, from housing:

 

 

To the economy:

 

 

In addition, there was a section at the start dedicated to it. Lewishamites forced the Mayor to confront the fact that, while he is frequently outspoken on areas he has no control over, such as taxation or immigration, he pleads inability when asked to do the same with the A&E. Similarly, a zombie statistic—that "100 lives would be saved" by the move—was repeatedly brought up by Boris and shot down by attendees, including local MP Heidi Alexander.

At one point, a local doctor pointed out that the Mayor's responsibility for tackling health inequalities, and said that by ignoring Lewisham's effect on that, Boris was being cowardly. It's fair to say he lost the plot at that one. Darryl Chamberlain posted a recording of Johnson's reply:

 

 

It's rare for Boris to get this angry publicly, though he has a reputation for a bit of a temper behind closed doors. The recording also makes clear just how hostile the crowd was; he can barely be heard over the heckles and jeers.

The other hefty load of criticism was reserved for the cable-car (officially called the "Emirates Airline", just as frequently referred to as the "dangleway"). Connecting two tourist attractions, the O2 Dome and ExCeL exhibition centre, the link was sold to south-east Londoners as a new river crossing in an area sorely deprived of them. In fact, after a burst of use during the Olympics, the cable-car—which can carry as many passengers per hour as a modestly-frequent bus service, but costs almost three times as much and doesn't accept travelcards—has fallen into such disuse that the European Regional Development Fund has stepped in with an £8m boost to its ailing finances.

Johnson seems to have accepted that, as a public transport project, the dangleway is a busted flush, instead defending it as a tourist attraction to Lewisham:

 

 

Since one of the Mayor's first acts in office was to cancel the cross-river tram, an ambitious proposal from Peckham to Camden crossing the river at Waterloo bridge, the cable car had a high bar to cross. Judging by local response, it hasn't.

The wonderful @bitoclass has storified the entire meeting if you want more Boris schadenfreude than you can handle.

Boris Johnson. Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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Labour's establishment suspects a Momentum conspiracy - they're right

Bernie Sanders-style organisers are determined to rewire the party's machine.  

If you wanted to understand the basic dynamics of this year’s Labour leadership contest, Brighton and Hove District Labour Party is a good microcosm. On Saturday 9 July, a day before Angela Eagle was to announce her leadership bid, hundreds of members flooded into its AGM. Despite the room having a capacity of over 250, the meeting had to be held in three batches, with members forming an orderly queue. The result of the massive turnout was clear in political terms – pro-Corbyn candidates won every position on the local executive committee. 

Many in the room hailed the turnout and the result. But others claimed that some in the crowd had engaged in abuse and harassment.The national party decided that, rather than first investigate individuals, it would suspend Brighton and Hove. Add this to the national ban on local meetings and events during the leadership election, and it is easy to see why Labour seems to have an uneasy relationship with mass politics. To put it a less neutral way, the party machine is in a state of open warfare against Corbyn and his supporters.

Brighton and Hove illustrates how local activists have continued to organise – in an even more innovative and effective way than before. On Thursday 21 July, the week following the CLP’s suspension, the local Momentum group organised a mass meeting. More than 200 people showed up, with the mood defiant and pumped up.  Rather than listen to speeches, the room then became a road test for a new "campaign meetup", a more modestly titled version of the "barnstorms" used by the Bernie Sanders campaign. Activists broke up into small groups to discuss the strategy of the campaign and then even smaller groups to organise action on a very local level. By the end of the night, 20 phonebanking sessions had been planned at a branch level over the following week. 

In the past, organising inside the Labour Party was seen as a slightly cloak and dagger affair. When the Labour Party bureaucracy expelled leftwing activists in past decades, many on went further underground, organising in semi-secrecy. Now, Momentum is doing the exact opposite. 

The emphasis of the Corbyn campaign is on making its strategy, volunteer hubs and events listings as open and accessible as possible. Interactive maps will allow local activists to advertise hundreds of events, and then contact people in their area. When they gather to phonebank in they will be using a custom-built web app which will enable tens of thousands of callers to ring hundreds of thousands of numbers, from wherever they are.

As Momentum has learned to its cost, there is a trade-off between a campaign’s openness and its ability to stage manage events. But in the new politics of the Labour party, in which both the numbers of interested people and the capacity to connect with them directly are increasing exponentially, there is simply no contest. In order to win the next general election, Labour will have to master these tactics on a much bigger scale. The leadership election is the road test. 

Even many moderates seem to accept that the days of simply triangulating towards the centre and getting cozy with the Murdoch press are over. Labour needs to reach people and communities directly with an ambitious digital strategy and an army of self-organising activists. It is this kind of mass politics that delivered a "no" vote in Greece’s referendum on the terms of the Eurozone bailout last summer – defying pretty much the whole of the media, business and political establishment. 

The problem for Corbyn's challenger, Owen Smith, is that many of his backers have an open problem with this type of mass politics. Rather than investigate allegations of abuse, they have supported the suspension of CLPs. Rather than seeing the heightened emotions that come with mass mobilisations as side-effects which needs to be controlled, they have sought to joins unconnected acts of harassment, in order to smear Jeremy Corbyn. The MP Ben Bradshaw has even seemed to accuse Momentum of organising a conspiracy to physically attack Labour MPs.

The real conspiracy is much bigger than that. Hundreds of thousands of people are arriving, enthusiastic and determined, into the Labour party. These people, and their ability to convince the communities of which they are a part, threaten Britain’s political equilibrium, both the Conservatives and the Labour establishment. When the greatest hope for Labour becomes your greatest nightmare, you have good call to feel alarmed.