Alas poor Gordon...

The crisis engulfing Gordon Brown's leadership is of New Labour's own making and any promises to lis

The vultures are circling over Downing Street. Labour’s defeat in the Glasgow East by-election was a disaster. This was supposed to be Labour’s third safest seat in Scotland and our 25th safest in the whole of Britain.

Such ‘meltdown’ figures would not of course be replicated in a General Election. But crushing defeat now stares the party in the face - the biggest crisis in Labour for a generation - and it is a crisis of governance and vision as much as of personal leadership. The great tragedy for the party is that most of the vultures circling around Gordon Brown would only perpetuate the crisis.

For months now, a group of ex-ministers have been cruising the corridors and cafeteria of Parliament in search of stray Labour MPs to descend on. “Carruthers, dear boy/girl, we haven’t spoken for ages, but have you got a moment? What are we going to do about Gordon? He is leading the party into disaster. I know you don’t want to lose your seat at the election, but what do we do?”

If we were children, the process would be called ‘grooming’. It has little to do with the well-being of the MP or the party. Most of the approaches are coming from the remnants of the Blair Witch-Way Project, looking for a way back to power. Their interests are more in shafting the Labour Party than in saving it.

For a couple of years now a group of 20 or so ex-ministers (mostly junior ones) have been meeting to discuss how they could maintain the flame of the Blairite revolution.

Not content to see that it lives on under Gordon Brown, discarded ambitions within the Dead Ministers Society pump out delusions that only a greater lurch to the Right can save Labour: accelerate privatisation, bring more private capital into public services, equivalents of Bush’s Project for a New American Century.

Meanwhile, back in Gordon’s bunker, the messages about ‘listening’ and ‘learning’ from each by-election defeat increasingly sound like the word ‘help’.

Sadly, Gordon does not appear able to reach out from the legacy of his own past. All the pronouncements are merely assertions that the policies that took us into this mess will ultimately get us out of it. You wish.

It isn’t credible to claim that Labour’s woes are all caused by the world outside. The economics and politics of our current impoverishment were constructed by the Blair/Brown leadership.

An obsession with off-balance-sheet accounting made public investment dependant on private finance.

Private finance demanded deregulation of financial markets. Banks were turned into casinos in the helter-skelter creation of credit.

The ‘safety net’ was supposed to be found in an ever rising spiral of property values. Such delusions chased themselves into absurdities and then into tears. It was where New Labour was always going to take us.

Domestically, the equivalent part of the process was in the neutering of government. Politics itself was outsourced. Ministers were in office, but not in power. Those promoted into office loved it, for they brought with them an ambition that was politics-free. They argued for the transfer of responsibility from parliament to an array of regulators, arms-length providers and private contractors, because it protected ministers from criticism.

The lightest touch of regulatory frameworks left parliament and government in a Pontius Pilate position. If anything went wrong it was “nothing to do with me, Guv”. But when it does go wrong government, quite rightly, cops the blame.

So it is that we end up in a summer of self-inflicted humiliation. The fiasco of pupil assessments (SATs), before children move on from primary to secondary school, illustrates the impoverishment of government. One inspired cartoon had a child sitting over an assessment paper and being asked if she was completing her SATs paper. Her reply was “No I am marking them”.

The same logic applies to the wave of local Post Office closures. Even though the Post Office is a publicly owned company, with a ‘universal public service obligation,’ Ministers declare themselves powerless to intervene in its running.

As energy companies cash in on the windfall profits of oil price rises and also hump 60 per cent price increases on the public, ministers shrink from ‘interfering in the market’.

No matter that it is pushing households in fuel poverty up from 4.5 million to 6 million. Government insists that market rules are set by the regulator, and that the regulator should have no responsibility for fuel poverty.

The emasculation of parliament and government has nothing to do with the big bad world ’out there’. It is the construct upon which New Labour built itself. No amount of musical chairs at the top will put this right if we don’t change the policies at the bottom. Doing so is not complicated, but it does require courage.

The next couple of years will be a global financial nightmare. The emphasis should be to repatriate capital wherever possible and to revisit the Roosevelt/Keynes doctrines in the form of a
Green New Deal

Stuff the notion of Gordon’s rules. In a recession the government must borrow and spend. Trade Union pension funds, looking for a shelter that will not wipe them out, should be re-directed into public bonds to fund public works.

Today’s political priorities would have to be found in the ecological infrastructure that will survive the 21st century, climate change and peak oil. None of this is beyond our reach, but none of it is compatible with the New Labour obsession with deregulated, neo-liberal economics.

The problem is that this is the world-view that Gordon and Tony created for themselves. It was supported to be their sanctuary, and their guarantee of greatness. Now it is the millstone that will sink them and anyone else tied to it.

Gordon could cut the ties before any of his ‘friends’ cut his throat. The trouble is that neither he nor the encircling would-be wannabes have the courage or vision to do so. The choice may thus be between a Greek or a Shakespearean tragedy.

Alan Simpson is MP for Nottingham South

The original version of this article wrongly attributed difficulties with SATs examinations to a company called EDS. In fact it was ETS. We are happy to clarify this point.

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The French millennials marching behind Marine Le Pen

A Front National rally attracts former socialists with manicured beards, and a lesbian couple. 

“In 85 days, Marine will be President of the French Republic!” The 150-strong crowd cheered at the sound of the words. On stage, the speaker, the vice-president of the far-right Front National (FN), Florian Philippot, continued: “We will be told that it’s the apocalypse, by the same banks, media, politicians, who were telling the British that Brexit would be an immediate catastrophe.

"Well, they voted, and it’s not! The British are much better off than we are!” The applause grew louder and louder. 

I was in the medieval city of Metz, in a municipal hall near the banks of the Moselle River, a tributary of the Rhine from which the region takes its name. The German border lies 49km east; Luxembourg City is less than an hour’s drive away. This is the "Country of the Three Borders", equidistant from Strasbourg and Frankfurt, and French, German and French again after various wars. Yet for all that local history is deeply rooted in the wider European history, votes for the Front National rank among the highest nationally, and continue to rise at every poll. 

In rural Moselle, “Marine”, as the Front National leader Marine Le Pen is known, has an envoy. In 2014, the well-spoken, elite-educated Philippot, 35, ran for mayor in Forbach, a former miner’s town near the border. He lost to the Socialist candidate but has visited regularly since. Enough for the locals to call him “Florian".

I grew up in a small town, Saint-Avold, halfway between Metz and Forbach. When my grandfather was working in the then-prosperous coal mines, the Moselle region attracted many foreign workers. Many of my fellow schoolmates bore Italian and Polish surnames. But the last mine closed in 2004, and now, some of the immigrants’ grandchildren are voting for the National Front.

Returning, I can't help but wonder: How did my generation, born with the Maastricht treaty, end up turning to the Eurosceptic, hard right FN?

“We’ve seen what the other political parties do – it’s always the same. We must try something else," said Candice Bertrand, 23, She might not be part of the group asking Philippot for selfies, but she had voted FN at every election, and her family agreed. “My mum was a Communist, then voted for [Nicolas] Sarkozy, and now she votes FN. She’s come a long way.”  The way, it seemed, was political distrust.

Minutes earlier, Philippot had pleaded with the audience to talk to their relatives and neighbours. Bertrand had brought her girlfriend, Lola, whom she was trying to convince to vote FN.  Lola wouldn’t give her surname – her strongly left-wing family would “certainly not” like to know she was there. She herself had never voted.

This infuriated Bertrand. “Women have fought for the right to vote!” she declared. Daily chats with Bertrand and her family had warmed up Lola to voting Le Pen in the first round, although not yet in the second. “I’m scared of a major change,” she confided, looking lost. “It’s a bit too extreme.” Both were too young to remember 2002, when a presidential victory for the then-Front National leader Jean-Marie Le Pen, was only a few percentage points away.

Since then, under the leadership of his daughter, Marine, the FN has broken every record. But in this region, the FN’s success isn’t new. In 2002, when liberal France was shocked to see Le Pen reach the second round of the presidential election, the FN was already sailing in Moselle. Le Pen grabbed 23.7 per cent of the Moselle vote in the first round and 21.9 per cent in the second, compared to 16.9 per cent and 17.8 per cent nationally. 

The far-right vote in Moselle remained higher than the national average before skyrocketing in 2012. By then, the younger, softer-looking Marine had taken over the party. In that year, the FN won an astonishing 24.7 per cent of the Moselle vote, and 17.8 per cent nationwide.

For some people of my generation, the FN has already provided opportunities. With his manicured beard and chic suit, Emilien Noé still looks like the Young Socialist he was between 16 and 18 years old. But looks can be deceiving. “I have been disgusted by the internal politics at the Socialist Party, the lack of respect for the low-ranked campaigners," he told me. So instead, he stood as the FN’s youngest national candidate to become mayor in his village, Gosselming, in 2014. “I entered directly into action," he said. (He lost). Now, at just 21, Noé is the FN’s youth coordinator for Eastern France.

Metz, Creative Commons licence credit Morgaine

Next to him stood Kevin Pfeiffer, 27. He told me he used to believe in the Socialist ideal, too - in 2007, as a 17-year-old, he backed Ségolène Royal against Sarkozy. But he is now a FN local councillor and acts as the party's general co-ordinator in the region. Both Noé and Pfeiffer radiated a quiet self-confidence, the sort that such swift rises induces. They shared a deep respect for the young-achiever-in-chief: Philippot. “We’re young and we know we can have perspectives in this party without being a graduate of l’ENA,” said another activist, Olivier Musci, 24. (The elite school Ecole Nationale d’Administration, or ENA, is considered something of a mandatory finishing school for politicians. It counts Francois Hollande and Jacques Chirac among its alumni. Ironically, Philippot is one, too.)

“Florian” likes to say that the FN scores the highest among the young. “Today’s youth have not grown up in a left-right divide”, he told me when I asked why. “The big topics, for them, were Maastricht, 9/11, the Chinese competition, and now Brexit. They have grown up in a political world structured around two poles: globalism versus patriotism.” Notably, half his speech was dedicated to ridiculing the FN's most probably rival, the maverick centrist Emmanuel Macron. “It is a time of the nations. Macron is the opposite of that," Philippot declared. 

At the rally, the blue, red and white flame, the FN’s historic logo, was nowhere to be seen. Even the words “Front National” had deserted the posters, which were instead plastered with “in the name of the people” slogans beneath Marine’s name and large smile. But everyone wears a blue rose at the buttonhole. “It’s the synthesis between the left’s rose and the right’s blue colour”, Pfeiffer said. “The symbol of the impossible becoming possible.” So, neither left nor right? I ask, echoing Macron’s campaign appeal. “Or both left and right”, Pfeiffer answered with a grin.

This nationwide rebranding follows years of efforts to polish the party’s jackass image, forged by decades of xenophobic, racist and anti-Semitic declarations by Le Pen Sr. His daughter evicted him from the party in 2015.

Still, Le Pen’s main pledges revolve around the same issue her father obsessed over - immigration. The resources spent on "dealing with migrants" will, Le Pen promises, be redirected to address the concerns of "the French people". Unemployment, which has been hovering at 10 per cent for years, is very much one of them. Moselle's damaged job market is a booster for the FN - between 10 and 12 per cent of young people are unemployed.

Yet the two phenomena cannot always rationally be linked. The female FN supporters I met candidly admitted they drove from France to Luxembourg every day for work and, like many locals, often went shopping in Germany. Yet they hoped to see the candidate of “Frexit” enter the Elysee palace in May. “We've never had problems to work in Luxembourg. Why would that change?” asked Bertrand. (Le Pen's “144 campaign pledges” promise frontier workers “special measures” to cross the border once out of the Schengen area, which sounds very much like the concept of the Schengen area itself.)

Grégoire Laloux, 21, studied history at the University of Metz. He didn't believe in the European Union. “Countries have their own interests. There are people, but no European people,” he said. “Marine is different because she defends patriotism, sovereignty, French greatness and French history.” He compared Le Pen to Richelieu, the cardinal who made Louis XIV's absolute monarchy possible:  “She, too, wants to build a modern state.”

French populists are quick to link the country's current problems to immigration, and these FN supporters were no exception. “With 7m poor and unemployed, we can't accept all the world's misery,” Olivier Musci, 24, a grandchild of Polish and Italian immigrants, told me. “Those we welcome must serve the country and be proud to be here.”

Lola echoed this call for more assimilation. “At our shopping centre, everyone speaks Arabic now," she said. "People have spat on us, thrown pebbles at us because we're lesbians. But I'm in my country and I have the right to do what I want.” When I asked if the people who attacked them were migrants, she was not so sure. “Let's say, they weren't white.”

Trump promised to “Make America Great Again”. To where would Le Pen's France return? Would it be sovereign again? White again? French again? Ruled by absolutism again? She has blurred enough lines to seduce voters her father never could – the young, the gay, the left-wingers. At the end of his speech, under the rebranded banners, Philippot invited the audience to sing La Marseillaise with him. And in one voice they did: “To arms citizens! Form your battalions! March, march, let impure blood, water our furrows...” The song is the same as the one I knew growing up. But it seemed to me, this time, a more sinister tune.