It's time for Ed Miliband to come back with a bang. Illustration: Nick Hayes
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Nine lessons for Miliband

What is the question to which “vote Labour” is the answer?
Ed Miliband has plenty to ponder over the summer. Labour is ahead in the opinion polls but not by enough to instil confidence of victory. MPs are mostly loyal to their leader but they feel his ship is becalmed. They fear the prospects of a majority will drift from view if something doesn’t change. But what? There is no shortage of advice, not all of it helpful, much of it contradictory. But from countless conversations with figures across the party, some common themes have emerged.
 

1. Tell a story

 
Behind the old cliché about politicians needing a “narrative” lies a deep psychological truth. People are emotional animals and their trust is won more easily with a story than with a statistic. David Cameron has a neat parable: once upon a time there was a wicked King Gordon. He borrowed lots of money and spent it all. Then a terrible storm wrecked the kingdom and there was no money to fix things. So the people deposed Gordon and installed King Dave to clear up the mess. That turned out to be harder than anyone expected, but the people were brave and they knew there was no going back to the bad old days.
 
What is Ed Miliband’s rival tale? His much-praised “one-nation” speech last October harked back to the 1945 Labour government as a fable of left solidarity, weaving in bits of Miliband’s own refugee heritage. He has an ideological account of a rotten economic model that colonised Britain under Margaret Thatcher and infiltrated the Labour Party under Tony Blair. But that is an ideological postulation, not a story. No one ever gripped an audience with the words “once there was a paradigm”.
 
Miliband needs to narrate modern Britain in a way that makes it sound obvious that the coalition are the bad guys and Labour the good guys – or at least the better guys. He needs to describe the past in a way that makes people nod along and want to put him in charge of the future.
 

2. Tell it with pictures

 
One of the most common complaints I hear from Labour MPs about the Miliband operation is that it fails to control images that shape public perception of the party and its leader. The two most senior communications people in the team – Bob Roberts and Tom Baldwin – both have newspaper backgrounds. Miliband’s closest advisers deal either in technical detail or abstract ideas. Miliband himself has an aversion to the kind of husky-hugging photo stunt that Cameron used to get his message across in the early days of opposition. Cameron employed his own photographer to maintain a steady flow of faux-intimate black-and-white shots of the candidate at work. By contrast, picture agency databases are full of unflattering angles of the Labour leader. He needs someone to be thinking harder about how his message is transmitted without words.
 

3. Sign up some capitalists

 
Miliband wants to reform British capitalism. He says it rewards the wrong people; it squeezes the many while indulging the wealthy few. It is a message that could resonate with people weighed down by the rising cost of living. The problem is that, historically, Labour has a prickly relationship with profit, markets and commerce, which makes it hard for the nuance in Miliband’s position to come across. He can talk about fairness but as soon as he says “capitalism” some people will see a career politician with no business experience giving vent to old lefty grudges.
 
Miliband wants Labour to be the party of small businesses and entrepreneurs – the little guys who feel the rules of the game are skewed to favour banks and huge corporations. To get that idea across he needs endorsement from the people he claims to be representing. He needs to be able to point at good (that is, profitable and ethical) companies and say, “This is what I’m talking about.” To have a credible agenda for remaking capitalism, he needs capitalists on stage with him.
 

4. Promote the innovators

 
Miliband has accepted that any government he leads would face severe budget constraints. That is only the first stage in a process aimed at convincing voters that Labour takes seriously the need to be careful with taxpayers’ money. The next challenge is explaining how Labour austerity would be so different from the coalition version.
 
The answer, Miliband’s allies say, is that Labour would have different priorities. Partly these will be expressed by shuffling money around between government departments – building new houses instead of spending on housing benefit, for example. Or funding childcare places instead of paying benefits to rich pensioners.
 
But those are marginal devices that don’t herald a transformation in the way Britain is governed. Labour has to take an interest in ways of delivering public goods outside the old Whitehall model. That means taking an interest in social enterprise, co-operatives and projects that give local communities more control over budgets. There are many Labour MPs and councillors already immersed in this kind of thinking but it won’t be recognised as central to the party’s philosophy until it is embraced by the leader. For now, Labour looks defensive and nostalgic, hoping to preserve as much of the existing apparatus as possible without spending more money doing so. Voters can see that doesn’t add up.
 
Instead, Miliband should find projects where energetic people are effecting social change in innovative and cost-efficient ways. He should point to them as signposts to a fairer future with balanced budgets.
 
Miliband should promote MPs and shadow ministers who can do the same. He needs to create the sense that Labour is brimming with imaginative ideas, eager to prove it can govern in austerity instead of cringing before the task.
 

5. Don’t lose control of the tax debate

 
George Osborne has said that if the Conservatives win the next election he would not raise any more taxes in his effort to contain the deficit. That implies billions of pounds in budget cuts – a squeeze tighter than the one being inflicted. It may not even be possible, but that doesn’t stop the Chancellor putting it in a manifesto and then attacking
 
Labour for planning a “middle-class tax raid” as part of its deficit-reduction plans. Sneaky, but effective. Labour has some prototype tax plans: restoring the 10p rate; a mansion tax; a levy on bankers’ bonuses. In revenue terms, that won’t cover the cost of reversing many coalition cuts or avoiding new ones. The Tories will declare a “black hole” in Labour’s plans, where there lurks a “tax bombshell”.
 
What Miliband needs is a device to shape the way taxes are discussed as part of the budget debate. He needs a memorable measure, a fair-tax rule of some kind, that will serve as a cultural counterpart to Osborne’s cap on welfare spending.
 
This could come in the form of a minimum tax threshold to prevent corporations from hiding their money from the exchequer. It could be a pledge to lock in a certain ratio of tax that the richest pay compared to the middle and the poorest. Whatever it is, Miliband should be able to declare that, under Labour, the boss could never end up paying less tax than the office cleaner – and challenge Cameron to match that vow.
 

6. Recognise the anger on both sides of the welfare debate

 
The easiest mistake a party can make in opposition is blaming something other than itself for election defeats and lost arguments. For Labour, that hazard is enhanced by a tendency to assume a monopoly on righteous indignation.
 
According to this view, Tory ministers who say they are motivated by the impulse to help the poor must be stupid or lying and if they appear to be winning the argument over, say, benefit cuts, it must be because the truth has been obscured by spin and biased reporting. By extension, Conservative voters are selfish or deluded. That attitude guarantees a long stint in opposition.
 
Yes, George Osborne’s anti-welfare agenda has been advanced with selective statistics and unrepresentative anecdotes. It is cynical but that isn’t why it works. Tory welfare policy is popular because it strikes a chord with voters who feel the system makes mugs of working people. They labour for meagre wages, paying their rent out of their own pockets, and then in effect pay their workless neighbours’ rent too.
 
Miliband has understood that this is a problem in terms of raw opinion poll data and shifted Labour’s position accordingly. He has accepted the need for some kind of cap on social security spending. He talks about restoring the link between effort put in and reward taken out of the system. He also passionately, and rightly, rejects the vicious caricature of benefit claimants as an army of scrounging layabouts.
 
What Miliband hasn’t yet done is sound authentically convinced that public frustration with the benefits system is justified. Until he can do that, he won’t get any credit for his more humane approach. People are attracted to Tory welfare policy not because they are mean-spirited or brainwashed but because it speaks to sincere feelings of outrage.
 

7. U-turn on Europe with style

 
It is getting harder to find Labour MPs who like their leader’s current reluctance to promise a referendum on Britain’s membership of the European Union. Most doubt that the party can get through an election campaign in which David Cameron constantly berates Miliband for refusing to trust the people. So a U-turn looks likely.
 
When the time comes it is vital that Miliband pull it off with style. Voters are generally forgiving of changes in policy as long as they are candidly declared. The line should be that Labour remains worried that Cameron’s ambivalent attitude creates uncertainty that damages Britain’s economic interests. But the party has also listened to the people. So, in the interests of greater certainty, the best plan is to have the in/out referendum promptly. Bring it on!
 
If the car is going to end up pointing in a different direction, don’t put it through a clunky three-point manoeuvre. Make it a handbrake turn.
 

8. Get organised online

 
There is a jaundiced view of Miliband’s election as Labour leader that sees him as having been smuggled into the job by trade union bosses. Yet he also persuaded many ordinary members that he was the man to rejuvenate the party. Veteran activists report that there was something close to a buzz around Ed among younger members in their constituencies, generated in part by a smart online campaign run by Alex Smith, a young digital communications expert. That energy vanished once the leadership campaign was over and the party’s lumbering, steam-driven machinery cranked into gear. Smith left. Contact with the network of eager Ed-ites was lost.
 
There are now signs that Labour is getting organised online again. In April this year, the party signed up Matthew McGregor, a British social media expert who ran Barack Obama’s “rapid response unit” in the 2012 US presidential election. His main focus is co-ordinating attacks on the Conservatives. But Miliband also needs a digital strategy to shape his own image. Tory papers will wage a brutal personal campaign against him. His own ratings, lagging behind those of his party, are a problem. A web fightback can’t neutralise Fleet Street aggression but it can help define the Labour leader in terms he has chosen. His pitch is renewal and change. If that isn’t selling through the usual channels, it’s time to get viral.
 

9. Decide the question

 
The Conservatives want people to go to the polls in May 2015 with certain questions in their minds. Can Labour be trusted not to screw things up as it did last time? Does Ed Miliband look like a prime minister? Things are gradually getting better; why risk change? Labour needs to plant different questions. After all that pain, are we better off? Whose side are Cameron and Osborne really on?
 
The Tories will stoke fear of a Labour government. Miliband needs to conquer that fear and inspire people who doubt that it makes much difference who wins. This is a huge challenge when politics itself is in disrepute. What is the question to which voting Labour is the answer?

Rafael Behr is political columnist at the Guardian and former political editor of the New Statesman

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Losing Momentum: how Jeremy Corbyn’s support group ran out of steam

Tom Watson says it is destroying Labour. Its supporters say it is a vital force for change. Our correspondent spent six months following the movement, and asks: what is the truth about Momentum?

1. The Bus

 The bus to the Momentum conference in Liverpool leaves at seven on a Sunday morning in late September from Euston Station, and the whole journey feels like a parody of a neoliberal play about the failings of socialism. We depart an hour late because activists have overslept and we cannot go without them. As we wait we discuss whether Jeremy Corbyn will be re-elected leader of the Labour Party this very day. One man says not; a young, jolly girl with blonde hair cries: “Don’t say that on Jezmas!” She is joking, at least about “Jezmas”.

A man walks up. “Trots?” he says, calmly. He is joking, too; and I wonder if he says it because the idea of Momentum is more exciting to outsiders than the reality, and he knows it; there is an awful pleasure in being misunderstood. Momentum was formed in late 2015 to build on Corbyn’s initial victory in the Labour leadership election, and it is perceived as a ragtag army of placard-waving Trots, newly engaged clicktivists and Corbyn fanatics.

We leave, and learn on the M1 that, in some terrible metaphor, the coach is broken and cannot drive at more than 20mph. So we wait for another coach at a service station slightly beyond Luton. “Sabotage,” says one man. He is joking, too. We get off; another man offers me his vegan bread and we discuss Karl Marx.

A new coach arrives and I listen to the others discuss Jeremy Corbyn’s problems. No one talks about his polling, because that is depressing and unnecessary for their purpose – which, here, is dreaming. They talk about Corbyn as addicts talk about a drug. Nothing can touch him, and nothing is ever his fault. “There are problems with the press office,” says one. “Perhaps he needs better PAs?” says another.

One man thinks there will be a non-specific revolution: “I hope it won’t be violent,” he frets. “There have been violent revolutions in the past.” “I stuck it out during Blair and it was worth it,” says another. “They’ve had their go.” “We don’t need them [the Blairites],” says a third. “If new members come in, it will sort itself out,” says a fourth.

I have heard this before. Momentum supporters have told me that Labour does not need floating voters, who are somehow tainted because they dare to float. This seems to me a kind of madness. I do not know how the Labour Party will win a general election in a parliamentary democracy without floating voters; and I don’t think these people do, either.

But this is a coach of believers. Say you are not sure that Corbyn can win a general election and they scowl at you. That you are in total agreement with them is assumed, because this is the solidarity bus; and if you are in total agreement with them they are the sweetest people in the world.

That is why I do not tell them that I am a journalist. I am afraid to, and this fear baffles me. I have gone everywhere as a journalist but with these, my fellow-travellers on the left, I am scared to say it; and that, too, frightens me. MSM, they might call me – mainstream media. What it really means is: collaborator.

The man beside me has been ill. He talks sweetly about the potential renewal of society under Corbyn’s Labour as a metaphor for his own recovery, and this moves him; he has not been involved in politics until now. I like this man very much, until I mention the Jewish Labour MP Luciana Berger and the anti-Semitism she has suffered from Corbyn supporters and others; and he says, simply, that she has been employed by the state of Israel. He says nothing else about her, as if there were nothing else to say.

We listen to the results of the leadership election on the radio; we should be in Liverpool at the Black-E community centre to celebrate, but the solidarity bus is late. Corbyn thanks his supporters. “You’re welcome, Jeremy,” says a woman in the front row, as if he were on the coach. She nods emphatically, and repeats it to the man who isn’t there: “You’re welcome, Jeremy.”

In Liverpool, some of the passengers sleep on the floor at a community centre. The venue has been hired for that purpose: this is Momentum’s commitment to opening up politics to the non-connected, the previously non-engaged, and the outsiders who will attend their conference in a deconsecrated church, even as the official Labour conference convenes a mile away. But never mind that: this is the one that matters, and it is called The World Transformed.

 

2. The Conference

Later that day, outside the Black-E, a man comes up to me. Are you happy, he asks, which is a normal question here. These are, at least partly, the politics of feelings: we must do feelings, because the Tories, apparently, don’t. I say I’m worried about marginal seats, specifically that Jeremy – he is always Jeremy, the use of his Christian name is a symbol of his goodness, his accessibility and his singularity – cannot win them.

“The polls aren’t his fault,” the man says, “it’s [Labour] people briefing the Tories that he is unelectable.” I do not think it’s that simple but it’s easy to feel like an idiot – or a monster – here, where there is such conviction. As if there is something that only you, the unconvinced, have missed: that Jeremy, given the right light, hat or PA, could lead a socialist revolution in a country where 13 million people watched Downton Abbey.

But the man does say something interesting which I hope is true. “This is not about Jeremy, not really,” he says. “It is about what he represents.” He means Momentum can survive without him.

There is a square hall with trade union banners and a shop that sells Poems for Jeremy Corbyn, as well as a Corbyn-themed colouring book. When I am finally outed as a journalist, and made to wear a vast red badge that says PRESS, I attempt to buy one. “That’s all journalists are interested in,” the proprietor says angrily. That is one of our moral stains, apparently: a disproportionate (and sinister) interest in colouring books.

I go to the Black Lives Matter event. A woman talks about the experience of black students in universities and the impact of austerity on the black community. Another woman tells us that her five-year-old son wishes he was white; we listen while she cries. I go to the feminism meeting and change my mind about the legalisation of prostitution after a woman’s testimony about reporting an assault, and then being assaulted again by a police officer because of her legal status. Then I hear a former miner tell a room how the police nearly killed him on a picket line, and then arrested him.

This, to me, a veteran of party conferences, is extraordinary, although it shouldn’t be, and the fact that I am surprised is shameful. Momentum is full of the kinds of ­people you never see at political events: that is, the people politics is for. Women, members of minority communities (but not Zionist Jews, naturally), the disabled: all are treated with exaggerated courtesy, as if the Black-E had established a mirror world of its choosing, where everything outside is inverted.

When Corbyn arrives he does not orate: he ruminates. “We are not going to cascade poverty from generation to generation,” he says. “We are here to transform society and the world.” I applaud his sentiment; I share it. I just wish I could believe he can deliver it outside, in the other world. So I veer ­between hope and fury; between the certainty that they will achieve nothing but an eternal Conservative government, and the ever-nagging truth that makes me stay: what else is there?

There is a rally on Monday night. Momentum members discuss the “purges” of socialist and communist-leaning members from Labour for comments they made on social media, and whether détente is possible. A nurse asks: “How do we know that ‘wipe the slate clean’ means the same for us as it does for them? How on Earth can we trust the likes of Hilary Benn who dresses himself up in the rhetoric of socialism to justify bombing Syria? The plotters who took the olive branch offered by Jeremy to stab him in the back with another chicken coup?” I am not sure where she is going with that gag, or if it is even a gag.

The next man to speak had been at the Labour party conference earlier in the day; he saw Len McCluskey, John McDonnell and Clive Lewis on the platform. “Don’t be pessimistic, folks,” he cries. “On the floor of conference today we owned the party. Progress [the centrist Labour pressure group] are the weirdos now. We own the party!”

A man from Hammersmith and Fulham Momentum is next. “The national committee of Momentum was not elected by conference,” he says. “It’s a committee meeting knocked up behind closed doors by leading people on the left, including our two heroes.” He means Jeremy Corbyn and John McDonnell. This is explicit heresy, and the chair interrupts him: “Stan, Stan . . .” “I’m winding up!” he says. “We need a central committee of Momentum elected by conference,” he says, and sits down.

The following day Corbyn speaks in the hall in front of golden balloons that spell out S-H-E-E-P. It may be another gag, but who can tell, from his face? This is his commitment to not doing politics the recognisable way. He is the man who walks by himself, towards balloons that say S-H-E-E-P. (They are advertising the band that will follow him. They are called, and dressed as, sheep.) The nobility of it, you could say. Or the idiocy. He mocks the mockers of Momentum: is it, he was asked by the mainstream media, full of extremists and entryists? “I’m not controlling any of it,” he says calmly, and in this calmness is all the Twitter-borne aggression that people complain of when they talk about Momentum, for he enables it with his self-satisfied smile. “It’s not my way to try and control the way people do things. I want people to come together.” He laughs, because no one can touch him, and nothing is ever his fault.

I meet many principled people in Liverpool whose testimony convinces me, and I didn’t need convincing, that austerity is a national disaster. I meet only one person who thinks that Momentum should take over the Labour Party. The maddest suggestion I hear is that all media should be state-controlled so that they won’t be rude about a future Corbyn government and any tribute colouring books.

 

3. The HQ

Momentum HQ is in the TSSA transport and travel union building by Euston Station in London. I meet Jon Lansman, Tony Benn’s former fixer and the founder of Momentum, in a basement room in October. Lansman, who read economics at Cambridge, lived on the fringes of Labour for 30 years before volunteering for Corbyn’s campaign for the leadership.

The terms are these: I can ask whatever I want, but afterwards James Schneider, the 29-year-old national organiser (who has since left to work for Corbyn’s press team), will decide what I can and cannot print. ­Momentum HQ wants control of the message; with all the talk of entryism and infighting reported in the mainstream media, the movement needs it.

There is a civil war between Jon Lansman and the Alliance for Workers’ Liberty (AWL) and other far-left factions, which, I am told, “wish to organise in an outdated manner out of step with the majority of Momentum members”. Some of the Momentum leadership believe that the AWL and its allies want to use Momentum to found a new party to the left of Labour. Jill Mountford, then a member of Momentum’s steering committee, has been expelled from Labour for being a member of the AWL. It screams across the blogs and on Facebook; more parody. We don’t talk about that – Schneider calls it “Kremlinology”. It is a problem, yes, but it is not insurmountable. We talk about the future, and the past.

So, Lansman. I look at him. The right considers him an evil Bennite wizard to be feared and mocked; the far left, a Stalinist, which seems unfair. It must be exhausting. I see a tired, middle-aged man attending perhaps his fifteenth meeting in a day. His hair is unruly. He wears a T-shirt.

The last Labour government, he says, did one thing and said another: “Wanting a liberal immigration policy while talking tough about refugees and migrants. Having a strong welfare policy and generous tax credits while talking about ‘strivers’ and ‘scroungers’ unfortunately shifted opinion the wrong way.”

It also alienated the party membership: “Their approach was based on ensuring that everyone was on-message with high levels of control.” It was an “authoritarian structure even in the PLP [Parliamentary Labour Party]. Even in the cabinet. It killed off the enthusiasm of the membership. They never published the figures in 2009 because it dropped below 100,000. We’ve now got 600,000.” (The membership has since dropped to roughly 528,000.)

And the strategy? “If you have hundreds of thousands of people having millions of conversations with people in communities and workplaces you can change opinion,” he says. “That’s the great advantage of ­having a mass movement. And if we can change the Labour Party’s attitude to its members and see them as a resource – not a threat or inconvenience.”

That, then, is the strategy: street by street and house by house. “We can’t win on the back of only the poorest and only the most disadvantaged,” he says. “We have to win the votes of skilled workers and plenty of middle-class people, too – but they are all suffering from some aspects of Tory misrule.”

I ask about polling because, at the time, a Times/YouGov poll has Labour on 27 per cent to the Tories’ 41 per cent. He doesn’t mind. “It was,” he says, “always going to be a very hard battle to win the next election. I think everyone across the party will privately admit that.” He doesn’t think that if Yvette Cooper or Andy Burnham were leader they would be polling any better.

Upstairs the office is full of activists. They are young, rational and convincing (although, after the Copeland by-election on 23 February, I will wonder if they are only really convincing themselves). They talk about their membership of 20,000, and 150 local groups, and 600,000 Labour Party members, and the breadth of age and background of the volunteers – from teenagers to people in their eighties. One of them – Ray Madron, 84 – paints his hatred of Tony Blair like a portrait in the air. He has a ­marvellously posh voice. Most of all, they talk about the wounds of austerity. Where, they want to know, is the anger? They are searching for it.

Emma Rees, a national organiser, speaks in the calm, precise tones of the schoolteacher she once was. “A lot of people are sick and tired of the status quo, of politics as usual, and I think trying to do things differently is hard because there isn’t a road map and it’s not clear exactly what you’re supposed to do,” she says. She adds: “It is a coalition of different sorts of people and holding all those people together can sometimes be a challenge.”

Is she alluding to entryism? One activist, who asks not to be named, says: “I don’t want to insult anyone, but if you rounded up all the members of the Socialist Workers Party [SWP] and the Socialist Party and any other ultra-left sect, you could probably fit them in one room. Momentum has 20,000 members.”

The SWP were outside at The World Transformed in Liverpool, I say, like an ambivalent picket line. “Well,” James Schneider says pointedly, “they were outside.”

Momentum, Emma Rees says, “is seeking to help the Labour Party become that transformative party that will get into government but doesn’t fall back on that tried and failed way of winning elections”.

They tell me this repeatedly, and it is true: no one knows what will work. “The people who criticised us don’t have any route to electability, either,” says Joe Todd, who organises events for Momentum. He is a tall, bespectacled man with a kindly, open face.

“They lost two elections before Jeremy Corbyn. It’s obvious we need to do something differently,” he says. “Politics feels distant for most people: it doesn’t seem to offer any hope for real change.

“The left has been timid and negative. More and more people are talking about how we can transform society, and how these transformations link to people’s everyday experience. Build a movement like that,” Todd says, and his eyes swell, “and all the old rules of politics – the centre ground, swing constituencies to a certain extent – are blown out of the water.”

Momentum sends me, with a young volunteer as chaperone, to a rally in Chester in October to watch activists try to muster support for local hospitals. They set up a stall in the centre of the shopping district, with its mad dissonance of coffee shops and medieval houses. From what I can see, people – yet far too few people – listen politely to the speeches about austerity and sign up for more information; but I can hear the hum of internal dissent when an activist, who asks not to be named, tells me he will work for the local Labour MP to be deselected. (The official Momentum line on deselection is, quite rightly, that it is a matter for local parties.)

We will not know what matters – is it effective? – until the general election, because no one knows what will work.

 

4. The Fallout

Now comes the result of the by-election in Copeland in the north-west of England, and the first time since 1982 that a ruling government has taken a seat from the opposition in a by-election. Momentum canvassed enthusiastically (they sent 85 carloads of activists to the constituency) but they failed, and pronounce themselves “devastated”. The whispers – this time of a “soft” coup against Corbyn – begin again.

Rees describes calls for Jeremy Corbyn to resign as “misguided. Labour’s decline long pre-dates Corbyn’s leadership.”

This produces a furious response from Luke Akehurst, a former London Labour ­councillor in Hackney, on labourlist.org. He insists that Labour’s decline has accelerated under Corbyn; that even though Rees says that “Labour has been haemorrhaging votes in election after election in Copeland since 1997”, the majority increased in 2005 and the number of votes rose in 2010, despite an adverse boundary change. “This,” he writes, “was a seat where the Labour vote was remarkably stable at between 16,750 and 19,699 in every general election between 2001 and 2015, then fell off a cliff to 11,601, a third of it going AWOL, last Thursday.”

And he adds that “‘85 carloads of Mom­entum activists’ going to Copeland is just increasing the party’s ability to record whose votes it has lost”.

But still they plan, and believe, even if no one knows what will work; surely there is some antidote to Mayism, if they search every street in the UK? Momentum’s national conference, which was repeatedly postponed, is now definitively scheduled for 25 March. Stan who complained about a democratic deficit within Momentum at The World Transformed got his way. So did Lansman. In January the steering committee voted to dissolve Momentum’s structures and introduce a constitution, after consulting the membership. A new national co-ordinating group has been elected, and met for the first time on 11 March – although, inevitably, a group called Momentum Grassroots held a rival meeting that very day.

I go to the Euston offices for a final briefing. There, two young women – Sophie and Georgie, and that will make those who think in parodies laugh – tell me that, in future, only members of the Labour Party will be allowed to join Momentum, and existing members must join Labour by 1 July. Those expelled from Labour “may be deemed to have resigned from Momentum after 1 July” – but they will have a right to a hearing.

More details of the plan are exposed when, a week later, a recording of Jon Lansman’s speech to a Momentum meeting in Richmond on 1 March is leaked to the Observer. Lansman told the Richmond branch that Momentum members must hold positions within the Labour Party to ensure that Corbyn’s successor – they are now talking about a successor – is to their liking. He also said that, should Len McCluskey be re-elected as general secretary of Unite, the union would formally affiliate to Momentum.

Tom Watson, the deputy leader of the party, was furious when he found out, calling it “a private agreement to fund a political faction that is apparently planning to take control of the Labour Party, as well as organise in the GMB and Unison”.

There was then, I am told, “a short but stormy discussion at the away day at Unison” on Monday 20 March, where the inner circle of John McDonnell, Diane Abbott and Emily Thornberry “laid into” Watson, but Shami Chakrabarti made the peace; I would have liked to see that. Watson then released a bland joint statement with Corbyn which mentioned “a robust and constructive discussion about the challenges and opportunities ahead”.

Jon Lansman, of course, is more interesting. “This is a non-story,” he tells me. “Momentum is encouraging members to get active in the party, to support socialist policies and rule changes that would make Labour a more grass-roots and democratic party, and to campaign for Labour victories. There is nothing scandalous and sinister about that.” On the Labour right, Progress, he notes, does exactly the same thing. “Half a million members could be the key to our success,” he says. “They can take our message to millions. But they want to shape policy, too. I wouldn’t call giving them a greater say ‘taking over the party’” – and this is surely unanswerable – “it’s theirs to start with.”

Correction: This article originally named Luke Akehurst as a Labour councillor. Akehurst stood down in 2014.

This article first appeared in the 23 March 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump's permanent revolution