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The NS Interview: Lauren Laverne

“Ageism is wrong. TV is unfair. Equally true, unfortunately."

What sparked your interest in politics?
Growing up during the 1980s in the north-east probably did it. My paternal grandfather was a miner - one of my first memories is of him being on TV during the strike.

Which is home - Sunderland or London?
Put it this way: I always look at both bits of the map on the weather forecast.

You used to be in a band, Kenickie. Do you miss performing?
I don't. Or at least I wouldn't want to do it now. I was in the band between the ages of 15 and 21, which I think is the optimum age for those kinds of high jinks.

You're a DJ (on BBC 6 Music) now. Would you ever return to making music?
I can't imagine it. But not making records isn't giving up music - I don't feel the distinction between loving it and writing it is that important.

Why do you think the closure of BBC 6 Music was ever proposed?
There's a bit of a conspiracy theory that it was a genius advertising campaign, but I'm sorry to say it wasn't. I have to believe that the proposals were made with good intentions, but since part of the BBC's charter is about stimulating creativity and cultural excellence and the station does that, demonstrably, for a modest sum, it would have been wrong to close it.

Do you think the BBC can get its priorities wrong at times?
I think it gets it right a lot more often than it gets it wrong. "Inform, educate and entertain" is a tough brief to set yourself.

What would be your plan for the BBC if you were in charge?
I'm bloody glad I'm not. Running an organisation with such a broad audience must be almost impossible: like DJing at a wedding, you're always going to lose part of the crowd no matter which record you put on next. Maybe in both those situations you just have to lead from the front and play something you love.

You co-present 10 O'Clock Live. What's the greatest challenge of making a live TV show?
The fact that the news never stops happening. But the way I look at it, the bits where everything fucks up can be the most memorable, enjoyable ones. You have to embrace the fact that, if you die on your arse, people will probably love it even more - and think of the Schadenfreude as your special gift to them.

You are outnumbered by your male co-hosts. Do you feel there are too few female presenters?
If that's the case, I have no idea why. It's not like you get to be one and they sit you down and go, "We've let YOU in. Now let me explain precisely why the others are outside . . . " like a baddie at the end of Scooby-Doo.

How do you balance motherhood with work?
The challenges are ever-evolving and I negotiate them with great difficulty.

You got a strong reaction when you spoke of the benefits of starting a family early.
I was talking about my experience. I said that when I had my first son I was quite alone, in that not many of my peers had babies. I found
it quite hard, but an advantage now is being in the position of having completed my family. I'm glad I'm not at the beginning of that process. I have absolutely no view on if or when "women" should start having families. Who is "women"? It's absurd.

Do you think it does get difficult for women in broadcasting as they get older?
I think it gets difficult for women when they're born and remains so. It isn't just in broadcasting.

What was your view of the recent case of Miriam O'Reilly at the BBC?
Ageism is wrong. TV is unfair. Equally true, unfortunately.

Is the coalition working?
I like the idea of moving beyond the knee-jerk sniping of party politics, but in practice I can't see where the Lib Dems are - it's all cuts and no cushion. It's a Tory government, isn't it?

What do you think of Nick Clegg and David Cameron?
I have very little interest in them as individuals. I'm interested in - and generally disapproving of - their policies.

Is religion a part of your life?
Once a Catholic . . . It's like the Mafia - you don't get to leave. I'm not sure I'd want to, but I'm incredibly angry with the Church at the moment.

Is there anything you regret?
Worrying when I had the time to.

Is there a plan?
Yes. It involves records, books, gin slings and great shoes. Join in if you like.

Are we all doomed?
No. Because people are (mostly) wonderful.

Defining Moments

1978 Born in Sunderland
1994 Forms the band Kenickie with her brother and two friends from school
1997 Calls the Spice Girls "Tory scum"
1998 Moves into television presenting on The Alphabet Show with Chris Addison
2002 Joins Xfm
2006 Becomes anchor of The Culture Show
2007 Gives birth to her first son
2008 Begins regular show on BBC 6 Music
2011 Becomes co-presenter, 10 O'Clock Live

Sophie Elmhirst is features editor of the New Statesman

This article first appeared in the 14 February 2011 issue of the New Statesman, The Middle East

Ralph Steadman for the New Statesman.
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Tim Farron: Theresa May is "the prisoner of the Ukip wing of her party"

The Liberal Democrat leader on his faith, Blairism and his plan to replace Labour as the opposition. 

This is Tim Farron’s seventh general election. His first was in 1992, when his Tory opponent was a 36-year-old called Ther­esa May. He was just 21 and they were both unsuccessful candidates in the Labour fortress of North-West Durham. He recalls talking “to a bunch of ex-miners who weren’t best pleased to see either of us, some kid Liberal and some Tory”. Now he sees his former and current opponent as “the prisoner of the Ukip wing of her party . . . I think it has rendered Ukip almost pointless – she is Ukip now.”

May was elected to parliament in 1997, but it took Farron until 2005 to join her. She leads the dominant Conservatives while he heads a party of only nine Liberal Democrat MPs. Still, their reversal of fortunes gives him hope. “After the 1992 election, every­one said there’s no way for a non-Tory government, and it turned out there was. So let’s not assume it’s a given there’s a Tory government [for ever].”

In April, I accompanied Farron to Manchester Gorton, in the lead-up to a by-election that was cancelled by May’s decision to call a snap election on 8 June. Still, the 46-year-old’s party has been in campaign mode for months; Lib Dems spoke of using last December’s Richmond Park by-election to test their messaging. It clearly had an effect: the incumbent Conservative, Zac Goldsmith, lost to their candidate, Sarah Olney.

Brexit, to which the Liberal Democrats are vehemently opposed, will be a dominant theme of the election. Their party membership has just exceeded 100,000, close to an all-time high, and they have enjoyed much success in council by-elections, with more to come in the local elections of 4 May.

However, any feel-good factor swiftly evaporated when Farron appeared on Channel 4 News on 18 April. He was asked by the co-presenter Cathy Newman whether or not he believes that homosexuality is a sin, a question that he answered obliquely in 2015 by saying that Christianity started with acknowledging that “we’re all sinners”.

This time, he told Newman, he was “not in the position to make theological announcements over the next six weeks . . . as a Liberal, I’m passionate about equality”.

The Channel 4 interview divided opinion. One Liberal politician told me that Farron’s stance was “completely intolerable”. Stephen Pollard, the influential editor of the Jewish Chronicle, described it as
“a very liberal position: he holds certain personal views but does not wish to legislate around them”. Jennie Rigg, the acting chair of LGBT+ Liberal Democrats, said it was “as plain as the nose on my face that Tim Farron is no homophobe”.

Farron declined the chance to clarify his views with us in a follow-up phone call, but told the BBC on 25 April: “I don’t believe that gay sex is a sin,” adding, “On reflection, it makes sense to actually answer this direct question since it’s become an issue.”

For his critics, Farron’s faith and politics are intertwined. He sees it differently, as he told Christian Today in 2015: “. . . the danger is sometimes that as a Christian in politics you think your job is to impose your morality on other people. It absolutely isn’t.”

Tim Farron joined the then Liberal Party at the age of 16 but didn’t become a Christian until he was 18. Between completing his A-levels in Lancashire and going to Newcastle University to read politics, he read the apologetics, a body of Christian writing that provides reasoned arguments for the gospel story. “I came to the conclusion that it was true,” he told me. “It wasn’t just a feel-good story.”

In speeches, Farron now takes on the mannerisms of a preacher, but he had a largely non-religious upbringing in Preston, Lancashire. “I don’t think I’d been to church once other than Christmas or the odd wedding,” he says. “I went once with my dad when I was 11, for all the good that did me.”

When we meet, it is Theresa May’s religion that is in the spotlight. She has condemned the National Trust for scrubbing the word “Easter” from its Easter egg hunt, a row it later emerged had been largely invented by the right-wing press in response to a press release from a religious-themed chocolate company.

“It’s worth observing there’s no mention of chocolate or bunny rabbits in the Bible,” Farron reminds me. “When people get cross about, in inverted commas, ‘us losing our Christian heritage’ they mean things which are safe and comfortable and nostalgic.” He pauses. “But the Christian message at Easter is shocking, actually, and very radical.”

British politics is tolerant of atheists (such as Ed Miliband and Nick Clegg) alongside those who, like David Cameron, are culturally Christian but whose faith is “a bit like the reception for Magic FM in the Chilterns: it sort of comes and goes”. But the reaction to Farron’s equivocation on homosexuality prompted many to wonder if a politician who talks openly about his faith is now seen as alarming. Nebulous wishes of peace and love at Christmas, yes; sincere discussions of the literal truth of the Resurrection? Hmm.

Tim Farron’s beliefs matter because he has a mission: to replace not only Jeremy Corbyn as leader of the opposition but Theresa May in Downing Street. Over lassis at the MyLahore curry house in Manchester, he tells me that Britain is facing two calamities. “One is Brexit, indeed hard Brexit . . . and the other is a Tory government for 25 years. We have to present a genuine, progressive alternative that can not only replace Labour as an opposition, it can replace the Tories as a government.” This is ambitious talk for a party with nine MPs. “I understand the ridicule that will be thrown at me for saying those things: but if you don’t want to run the country, why are you in politics?” He pauses. “That’s a question I would ask most people leading the Labour Party at present.”

What does he think of May, his one-time opponent in North-West Durham? “She strikes me as being very professional, very straightforward, somebody who is very conservative in every sense of the word, in her thought processes, her politics, in her style.” He recalls her 2002 conference speech in which she warned Tory activists: “Our base is too narrow and so, occasionally, are our sympathies. You know what some people call us: the nasty party.”

“In many ways, she was the trailblazer for Cameron in being a softer-focused Tory,” he says. “It now looks like she’s been trapped by the very people she was berating as the nasty party all those years ago. I like to think that isn’t really her. But that means she isn’t really in control of the Conservative Party.”

Voters, however, seem to disagree. In recent polls, support for the Conservatives has hovered between 40 and 50 per cent. Isn’t a progressive alliance the only way to stop her: Labour, the Liberal Democrats, the Greens, the SNP and Plaid Cymru all working together to beat the Tories?

“Let’s be really blunt,” he says. “Had Jeremy Corbyn stood down for us in Richmond Park [where Labour stood Christian Wolmar], we would not have won. I could have written Zac Goldsmith’s leaflets for you: Corbyn-backed Liberal Democrats.

“I’m a pluralist,” he adds. “But any progressive alliance has got to be at least equal to the sum of its parts. At the moment, it would be less than the sum of its parts. The only way the Tories are losing their majority is us gaining seats in Hazel Grove –” he ticks them off with his fingers, “– in Cheadle, in the West Country and west London. There’s no chance of us gaining those seats if we have a kind of arrangement with the current Labour Party in its current form.”

What about the SNP? “Most sensible people would look at that SNP manifesto and agree with 99 per cent of it,” Farron says. “But it’s that one thing: they want to wreck the country! How can you do a deal with people who want to wreck the country?”

There’s no other alternative, he says. Someone needs to step up and offer “something that can appeal to progressive younger voters, pro-Europeans and, you know, moderate-thinking Middle England”. He wants to champion a market economy, strong public services, action on climate change, internationalism and free trade.

That sounds like Blairism. “I’m a liberal, and I don’t think Blair was a liberal,” he replies. “But I admire Blair because he was somebody who was able to win elections . . . Iraq aside, my criticisms of Blair are what he didn’t do, rather than what he did do.”

Turning around the Tory tide – let alone with just nine MPs, and from third place – is one hell of a job. But Farron takes heart from the Liberal Party in Canada, where Justin Trudeau did just that. “I’m not Trudeau,” he concedes, “He was better-looking, and his dad was prime minister.”

There is a reason for his optimism. “I use the analogy of being in a maze,” he says, “You can’t see a way out of it, for a progressive party to form a majority against the Tories. But in every maze, there is a way out. We just haven’t found it yet.” 

Stephen Bush is special correspondent at the New Statesman. His daily briefing, Morning Call, provides a quick and essential guide to British politics.

This article first appeared in the 27 April 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Cool Britannia 20 Years On

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