How the Tories can re-engage with working class voters

Rather than aping UKIP, the party should focus on the cost of fuel, the cost of housing, job security and the cost of travel.

The 'town hall debate' in the 1992 US presidential election was one of the most potent moments in modern western politics. An audience member asked, "how has the national debt personally affected each of your lives? And if it hasn't, how can you honestly find a cure for the economic problems of the common people if you have no experience in what's ailing them?" Billionaire Ross Perot was wrongfooted, George Bush Snr muttered something about the deficit, interest rates and his grandchildren. And then Bill Clinton stepped away from the podium and towards the lady in the audience who had asked the question, asking how the recession had affected her.

After establishing that the questioner knew people who had lost their homes and jobs during the recession, Clinton talked about the similar experiences of people he knew in Arkansas before relating it to his overall campaign themes. In a few seconds, Clinton had achieved the holy grail of modern politics - illustrating empathy and authenticity in difficult times. Bush and Perot failed to do that and paid the price. And modern British politicians are largely failing to do this as well, leading, at least in part, to the UKIP surge of last week.
 
"Politicians don't understand the real world at all." That was the firm view of over 80 per cent of voters in a poll last year. And last Thursday's elections saw the bursting of that dam of frustration with a Westminster elite seen as narrow and out of touch. If mainstream politicians don't act quickly to reconnect with hard-pressed, ordinary voters, they'll find that last week's results could mark the beginning of a trend, rather than a one-off howl of voter rage.
 
The same poll showed that, for the vast majority of voters, the Tories are seen as the "party of the rich, not ordinary people" - an impression that is one of the party's biggest electoral handicaps. But the leadership of the other parties also seem out of touch with the struggles of much of the country. As people struggle to make their pay packet last and worry about job security, senior politicians are not seen to understand people's everyday struggles.
 
And that, at least to an extent, has helped contribute to UKIP's surge and the general lack of enthusiasm about all of our mainstream political parties. As Lord Ashcroft's extensive research showed, concern about Europe is not the primary reason for UKIP's rise. Rather, UKIP voters are likely to agree with the statement that the party is "on the side of people like me" - something that they don't regard the mainstream parties as being.  Indeed, a recent YouGov poll found that 53 per cent of voters thought that Labour used to care about "people like me", compared to only 30 per cent today.
 
That helps explain why the shift to UKIP last Thursday wasn't, as conventional wisdom once suggested, largely from once Tory voters. Indeed, as Mark Pack and John Rentoul have argued, Labour may have lost more votes to UKIP than the Tories. And UKIP seemed to pick up votes from the skilled working class voters once courted so successfully by Thatcher and Blair. Both Labour and the Conservatives failed to capture the imagination of the skilled working class last time, with Labour's vote plunging from 51 per cent in Blair's biggest landslides to 29 per cent.
 
This disengagement of the skilled working class with the major political parties has hardly come as a surprise. In 1992, 75 per cent of 'C2' voters turned out to vote. In 2010, that figure was 58 per cent.  Parliament remains too middle class, with too few MPs who can genuinely relate to the struggles that accompany a squeeze in living standards. To many voters, frontline politicians all come from a narrow background and have little to no experience of 'the real world'. It was always inevitable that a party would come along that capitalised from this sense of disengagement.
 
There's no simple solution to this problem, of course, but one thing the mainstream parties mustn't do is to ape UKIP - that would look desperate and forced. Instead, politicians have to try harder to show that they understand the pressures that hard working people are under and do something about it. The Budget was a step in the right direction, but it's clear that so much more needs to be done about the cost of fuel, cost of housing, job security and the cost of travel. The political establishment also has to take active measures to broaden the social base of parliament.
 
Knee jerking and gesture politics are not going to re-engage voters with mainstream politics. Instead, through their words and actions, politicians have to display the kind of authenticity and empathy that Clinton illustrated to devastating effect a few decades ago.
 
David Skelton is former deputy director of Policy Exchange and is launching a new campaign group to broaden the appeal of the Conservative Party to working class and ethnic minority voters
David Cameron addresses Conservative Party supporters at the Amberside Sports Club in Nuneaton. Photograph: Getty Images,

David Skelton is the director of Renewal, a new campaign group aiming to broaden the appeal of the Conservative Party to working class and ethnic minority voters. @djskelton

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Erdogan’s purge was too big and too organised to be a mere reaction to the failed coup

There is a specific word for the melancholy of Istanbul. The city is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. 

Even at the worst of times Istanbul is a beautiful city, and the Bosphorus is a remarkable stretch of sea. Turks get very irritated if you call it a river. They are right. The Bosphorus has a life and energy that a river could never equal. Spend five minutes watching the Bosphorus and you can understand why Orhan Pamuk, Turkey’s Nobel laureate for literature, became fixated by it as he grew up, tracking the movements of the ocean-going vessels, the warships and the freighters as they steamed between Asia and Europe.

I went to an Ottoman palace on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, waiting to interview the former prime minister Ahmet Davu­toglu. He was pushed out of office two months ago by President Recep Tayyip Erdogan when he appeared to be too wedded to the clauses in the Turkish constitution which say that the prime minister is the head of government and the president is a ceremonial head of state. Erdogan was happy with that when he was prime minister. But now he’s president, he wants to change the constitution. If Erdogan can win the vote in parliament he will, in effect, be rubber-stamping the reality he has created since he became president. In the days since the attempted coup, no one has had any doubt about who is the power in the land.

 

City of melancholy

The view from the Ottoman palace was magnificent. Beneath a luscious, pine-shaded garden an oil tanker plied its way towards the Black Sea. Small ferries dodged across the sea lanes. It was not, I hasten to add, Davutoglu’s private residence. It had just been borrowed, for the backdrop. But it reminded a Turkish friend of something she had heard once from the AKP, Erdogan’s ruling party: that they would not rest until they were living in the apartments with balconies and gardens overlooking the Bosphorus that had always been the preserve of the secular elite they wanted to replace.

Pamuk also writes about hüzün, the melancholy that afflicts the citizens of Istanbul. It comes, he says, from the city’s history and its decline, the foghorns on the Bosphorus, from tumbledown walls that have been ruins since the fall of the Byzantine empire, unemployed men in tea houses, covered women waiting for buses that never come, pelting rain and dark evenings: the city’s whole fabric and all the lives within it. “My starting point,” Pamuk wrote, “was the emotion that a child might feel while looking through a steamy window.”

Istanbul is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. In Pamuk’s work the citizens of Istanbul take a perverse pride in hüzün. No one in Istanbul, or elsewhere in Turkey, can draw comfort from what is happening now. Erdogan’s opponents wonder what kind of future they can have in his Turkey. I think I sensed it, too, in the triumphalist crowds of Erdogan supporters that have been gathering day after day since the coup was defeated.

 

Down with the generals

Erdogan’s opponents are not downcast because the coup failed; a big reason why it did was that it had no public support. Turks know way too much about the authoritarian ways of military rule to want it back. The melancholy is because Erdogan is using the coup to entrench himself even more deeply in power. The purge looks too far-reaching, too organised and too big to have been a quick reaction to the attempt on his power. Instead it seems to be a plan that was waiting to be used.

Turkey is a deeply unhappy country. It is hard to imagine now, but when the Arab uprisings happened in 2011 it seemed to be a model for the Middle East. It had elections and an economy that worked and grew. When I asked Davutoglu around that time whether there would be a new Ottoman sphere of influence for the 21st century, he smiled modestly, denied any such ambition and went on to explain that the 2011 uprisings were the true succession to the Ottoman empire. A century of European, and then American, domination was ending. It had been a false start in Middle Eastern history. Now it was back on track. The people of the region were deciding their futures, and perhaps Turkey would have a role, almost like a big brother.

Turkey’s position – straddling east and west, facing Europe and Asia – is the key to its history and its future. It could be, should be, a rock of stability in a desperately un­stable part of the world. But it isn’t, and that is a problem for all of us.

 

Contagion of war

The coup did not come out of a clear sky. Turkey was in deep crisis before the attempt was made. Part of the problem has come from Erdogan’s divisive policies. He has led the AKP to successive election victories since it first won in 2002. But the policies of his governments have not been inclusive. As long as his supporters are happy, the president seems unconcerned about the resentment and opposition he is generating on the other side of politics.

Perhaps that was inevitable. His mission, as a political Islamist, was to change the country, to end the power of secular elites, including the army, which had been dominant since Mustafa Kemal Atatürk created modern Turkey after the collapse of the Ottoman empire. And there is also the influence of chaos and war in the Middle East. Turkey has borders with Iraq and Syria, and is deeply involved in their wars. The borders do not stop the contagion of violence. Hundreds of people have died in the past year in bomb attacks in Turkish cities, some carried out by the jihadists of so-called Islamic State, and some sent by Kurdish separatists working under the PKK.

It is a horrible mix. Erdogan might be able to deal with it better if he had used the attempted coup to try to unite Turkey. All the parliamentary parties condemned it. But instead, he has turned the power of the state against his opponents. More rough times lie ahead.

Jeremy Bowen is the BBC’s Middle East editor. He tweets @bowenbbc

This article first appeared in the 28 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double Issue