Simon Danczuk, Labour MP for Rochdale, wants to see some big changes in his party. Photo: Getty
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“The party’s been hijacked by a metropolitan elite”: Labour MP Simon Danczuk

As Ukip’s gains and Ed Miliband’s awkward Sun moment prompt questions about Labour’s blue-collar vote, the party’s MP for Rochdale opens up about the changes he’d like to see from his leader.

The MP for Rochdale Simon Danczuk is eating breakfast in Portcullis House. It looks like there’s more honey than porridge in his bowl, but the backbencher’s calls for his own party to start changing don’t stick in his throat.

Already known for his outspoken criticism of Ed Miliband’s “one-dimensional shadow cabinet” and condemnation of its sloganeering, Danczuk has occasionally riled the party’s leadership for voicing his dissatisfaction with its direction.

However, rather than dismissing him as a pesky maverick, Miliband and his circle should perhaps pay attention. Danczuk is not just a crass Ed-basher. He has a fairly nuanced idea of where his party should go.

Danczuk has concerns about appealing to working-class voters such as those in his seat, which he himself describes as a “magnet for the dispossessed”. However, he also expresses admiration for the New Labour years, Tony Blair’s leadership specifically – often remembered for its Islington set poshing-up the party.

He is jovial and straightforward, his blue eyes glinting wryly as he discloses his current political concerns to me:

“It could be argued that the party has been hijacked by a metropolitan elite,” Danczuk remarks. “Unlike under Blair, where he had a whole array of different people around him for his long tenure, from Mo Mowlam through to Hazel Blears, with [John] Prescott throughout, Alan Johnson, John Reid and [Alan] Milburn and others.

“So the party had some sort of equilibrium in terms of who is running and controlling it,” he tells me, almost wistfully. He was elected in 2010 (a candidate in the seat where Gordon Brown made his “bigoted woman” blunder) and so missed those heady years of government.

He concludes, frankly: “Now it feels to me like the party’s been hijacked by a metropolitan elite that have a particular view of the world and they are insistent upon imposing that view on others, and I think it’s eroding the support that we get.”

Danczuk’s seat, which has a high immigrant and asylum seeker population, is a clear factor in his insistence that Labour mustn’t ignore Ukip. The rightwing party has eaten into Labour’s support, including its safe seats in the North. This twist of the political landscape has seen recent urges for Labour to renew its appeal to blue-collar voters, and, as Marcus Roberts points out in this week’s New Statesman, the party has been “haemorrhaging” working-class support for over a decade.

“There’s one point that’s been said but shouldn’t be said by Labour activists and Labour people,” Danczuk insists. “It’s that ‘we shouldn’t try and out-Ukip Ukip’” he rolls his eyes.

“I think it’s an unhelpful comment and some people within the party seem to have latched on to it. I think we should come out with policies that work and serve the communities we represent. I represent a very diverse constituency.”

He then methodically takes me through a comprehensive history of immigration in Rochdale town centre, from Ukrainians and Poles during the war, to the Sixties which welcomed people from the Asian subcontinent, to closing mills creating a ghost town in the Eighties and Nineties, leaving room for asylum seekers, many from Africa, to an Irish Traveller community, to Eastern Europeans today from EU states.

“Tell me why Rochdale people wouldn’t have a view on immigration? This is the crux of the point: to say to them, ‘immigration is good; it’s good for the economy’. Well, it might be good for Islington and other places in North London, but it’s less good for places like Rochdale.

“It’s put enormous pressure on services over a number of years, in terms of health services, education. My son is one of six kids out of 30 who you would describe as ‘white-English’. The rest would be African or Polish or Irish Travellers. . . Also [the pressure] in terms of employment in the town.”

His dig at the perception of modern Labour’s leadership consisting of a gaggle of kale-caning North London liberals reminds me of something Tottenham MP David Lammy once said, when I interviewed him last year: “The Labour Party isn’t just the metropolitan liberal elite party. It can’t just be the party of Primrose Hill and Parliament Hill.”

So it’s a concern that spans Northern and London representatives.

Danczuk believes “we need to strengthen the borders”, and also “have to get people out of the country quicker when they shouldn’t be here”. He argues that immigrants shouldn’t be able to claim benefits, nor have a right to housing, for the first 12 months of being in Britain. He also suggests that dual nationality is a problem:

“We need to look around Britishness, and we have what they call dual nationality. So you can be, for argument’s sake, Pakistani and British, and I know they don’t do that in Germany and in other countries. I wonder whether we should look to limiting the ability to have dual nationality. You either want to be British or you don’t want to be.”

Danczuk’s upbringing also plays a significant part in his political thinking. Brought up in Burnley, Lancashire, he says he was, “struggling to be working-class; I’m from the under-class, really aren’t I? Living on benefits with a single mother.”

His family wasn’t political but his grandmother was “very Labour”. She introduced him to George Orwell’s works, and by the time he was 14, he’d read “All of it – from Keep the Aspidistra Flying through to Homage to Catalonia”. He used to go down to the local library and read the Guardian, which he chuckles was “a bit odd”.

He recalls his black Doc Marten boots, in fashion when he was a teenager, wearing through the rubber sole down to his sock, and being unable to replace them. His mother would make what she called “Tarzan Soup”, which was “really just vegetables boiled in water”, he recalls. “She was dressing it up as something exciting and interesting to eat. The reality was it was a very poor man’s soup.”

Such a life on benefits was “pretty miserable”, according to the MP, and he is blunt about how this translates into his politics:

“My mother did many positive things, not least teaching me good manners – but a strange thing really to prioritise, and I just wished she’d done more to work.

“She [sometimes] wouldn’t get up in the morning, and my brother, who was only 18 months older than me, had to get us up for school. So that’s a five and six or seven year old doing it, you’re regularly late for school. I wish she’d had a stronger emphasis on the work ethic. I think that would have made it a more pleasant childhood. I have a strong work ethic and I think other people should have one. My views on welfare come from that personal experience, I accept that.”

He believes the coalition “should have a system that can differentiate between those who won’t work and those who can’t work”, and laments “a culture within the [Labour] party at the moment which suggests that you should not talk about people who won’t work, or should deny that there are such people. Well, there are lots of people out there that won’t work, don’t want to work. . . We have to have a straight and honest conversation about it and I just wish Labour would do that, because they would gain much greater respect from the electorate.”

Rochdale is where Cyril Smith, the late Lib Dem MP and serial abuser of young boys, reigned for two decades. Danczuk has recently released a book revealing the dark stories of the gargantuan politician, Smile for the Camera: The Double Life of Cyril Smith. In it are horrifying first-person testimonies from some of Smith’s victims.

He reveals, darkly, that, “there were people out to protect Smith because he was part of a network of paedophiles. I’m absolutely, wholly convinced of that. And more will come out I think in the near future to show that Smith could’ve easily been part of a Westminster network of paedophiles.”

He explains that along with some other MPs, including Tom Watson, Zac Goldsmith and Tessa Munt, he is working on “exposing other politicians [of the past] who’ve been implicated in this stuff.”

In a chilling parallel, Danczuk has also had to deal with the child grooming ring scandal in Rochdale, which similarly involved vulnerable children and a failure on the part of local authorities.

“One of the reasons Smith wasn’t prosecuted in the Sixties was that the Director of Public Prosecutions said ‘they were unreliable witnesses’. What he meant by that was that these poor, white, working-class, vulnerable boys would make unreliable witnesses.

“And you fast-forward 30 or 40 years to the Rochdale grooming scandal and initially the CPS decided not to prosecute, the police weren’t pushing it, social services didn’t really care, and that was because they were poor, white, working-class, vulnerable girls. It upsets me actually. Why haven’t we moved in that 40 years?”

Danczuk sighs that he’ll be “happy to move off” the subject of child abuse, which has so consumed his work as an MP, and is looking forward to concentrating on less upsetting topics. He loves his work on the communities and local government select committee, for which he has a “98 per cent attendance record”, he beams.

Also, he and his wife own a deli in Rochdale, called Danczuk’s Deli, and they are finding the taxes levied on small businesses tough, so he wants to do some work around business rates. He hopes to open a new shop and grow the business.

One in Islington?

He grins: “Apparently that’s where Ed buys his bread from, isn’t it? I haven’t read that article but somebody was telling me. Not from Morrisons but from some Chalk Farm deli or something. . .”

Anoosh Chakelian is deputy web editor at the New Statesman.

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How Donald Trump is slouching towards the Republican nomination

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb.

In America, you can judge a crowd by its merchandise. Outside the Connecticut Convention Centre in Hartford, frail old men and brawny moms are selling “your Trump 45 football jerseys”, “your hats”, “your campaign buttons”. But the hottest item is a T-shirt bearing the slogan “Hillary sucks . . . but not like Monica!” and, on the back: “Trump that bitch!” Inside, beyond the checkpoint manned by the Transportation Security Administration and the secret service (“Good!” the man next to me says, when he sees the agents), is a family whose three kids, two of them girls, are wearing the Monica shirt.

Other people are content with the shirts they arrived in (“Waterboarding – baptising terrorists with freedom” and “If you don’t BLEED red, white and blue, take your bitch ass home!”). There are 80 chairs penned off for the elderly but everyone else is standing: guys in motorcycle and military gear, their arms folded; aspiring deal-makers, suited, on cellphones; giggling high-school fatsos, dressed fresh from the couch, grabbing M&M’s and Doritos from the movie-theatre-style concession stands. So many baseball hats; deep, bellicose chants of “Build the wall!” and “USA!”. (And, to the same rhythm, “Don-ald J!”)

A grizzled man in camouflage pants and combat boots, whose T-shirt – “Connecticut Militia III%” – confirms him as a member of the “patriot” movement, is talking to a zealous young girl in a short skirt, who came in dancing to “Uptown Girl”.

“Yeah, we were there for Operation American Spring,” he says. “Louis Farrakhan’s rally of hate . . .”

“And you’re a veteran?” she asks. “Thank you so much!”

Three hours will pass. A retired US marine will take the rostrum to growl, “God bless America – hoo-rah!”; “Uptown Girl” will play many more times (much like his speeches, Donald J’s playlist consists of a few items, repeated endlessly), before Trump finally looms in and asks the crowd: “Is this the greatest place on Earth?”

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb. Only a minority within a minority of Americans, it was assumed, could possibly be stupid enough to think a Trump presidency was a good idea. He won New Hampshire and South Carolina with over 30 per cent of the Republican vote, then took almost 46 per cent in Nevada. When he cleaned up on Super Tuesday in March, he was just shy of 50 per cent in Massachusetts; a week later, he took 47 per cent of the votes in Mississippi.

His rivals, who are useless individually, were meant to co-operate with each other and the national party to deny him the nomination. But Trump won four out of the five key states being contested on “Super-Duper Tuesday” on 15 March. Then, as talk turned to persuading and co-opting his delegates behind the scenes, Trump won New York with 60 per cent.

Now, the campaign is trying to present Trump as more “presidential”. According to his new manager, Paul Manafort, this requires him to appear in “more formal settings” – without, of course, diluting “the unique magic of Trump”. But whether or not he can resist denouncing the GOP and the “corrupt” primary system, and alluding to violence if he is baulked at at the convention, the new Trump will be much the same as the old.

Back in Hartford: “The Republicans wanna play cute with us, right? If I don’t make it, you’re gonna have millions of people that don’t vote for a Republican. They’re not gonna vote at all,” says Trump. “Hopefully that’s all, OK? Hopefully that’s all, but they’re very, very angry.”

This anger, which can supposedly be turned on anyone who gets in the way, has mainly been vented, so far, on the protesters who disrupt Trump’s rallies. “We’re not gonna be the dummies that lose all of our jobs now. We’re gonna be the smart ones. Oh, do you have one over there? There’s one of the dummies . . .”

There is a frenzied fluttering of Trump placards, off to his right. “Get ’em out! . . . Don’t hurt ’em – see how nice I am? . . . They really impede freedom of speech and it’s a disgrace. But the good news is, folks, it won’t be long. We’re just not taking it and it won’t be long.”

It is their removal by police, at Trump’s ostentatious behest, that causes the disruption, rather than the scarcely audible protesters. He seems to realise this, suddenly: “We should just let ’em . . . I’ll talk right over them, there’s no problem!” But it’s impossible to leave the protesters where they are, because it would not be safe. His crowd is too vicious.

Exit Trump, after exactly half an hour, inclusive of the many interruptions. His people seem uplifted but, out on the street, they are ambushed by a large counter-demonstration, with a booming drum and warlike banners and standards (“Black Lives Matter”; an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, holding aloft Trump’s severed head). Here is the rest of the world, the real American world: young people, beautiful people, more female than male, every shade of skin colour. “F*** Donald Trump!” they chant.

After a horrified split-second, the Trump crowd, massively more numerous, rallies with “USA!” and – perplexingly, since one of the main themes of the speech it has just heard was the lack of jobs in Connecticut – “Get a job!” The two sides then mingle, unobstructed by police. Slanging matches break out that seem in every instance to humiliate the Trump supporter. “Go to college!” one demands. “Man, I am in college, I’m doin’ lovely!”

There is no violence, only this: some black boys are dancing, with liquid moves, to the sound of the drum. Four young Trump guys counter by stripping to their waists and jouncing around madly, their skin greenish-yellow under the street lights, screaming about the building of the wall. There was no alcohol inside; they’re drunk on whatever it is – the elixir of fascism, the unique magic of Trump. It’s a hyper but not at all happy drunk.

As with every other moment of the Trump campaign so far, it would have been merely some grade of the cringeworthy – the embarrassing, the revolting, the pitiful – were Trump not slouching closer and closer, with each of these moments, to his nomination. 

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism