Show Hide image

A new centrist party? It wouldn’t be liberal

There is no supply-side issue for a liberal, anti-Brexit party. The problem is demand.

Wait by the bend in the river long enough, goes the saying, and eventually the bodies of your enemies will float past you. In the wake of the EU referendum, may I suggest an update? Wait by the bend in the river long enough and you’ll miss a dozen new centrist parties being founded by anguished Remainers. Also, you’ll get a nice day out.

On 8 April, the Observer reported that Simon Franks, founder of LoveFilm and a former Labour donor, had secured £50m to fund either community activism or a formal new party. The group would “break the mould of Westminster politics” by drawing on ideas from the left and right of British politics.

If so, that would distinguish Franks’s idea from a run of suggested new movements – barrister Jo Maugham’s Spring the Party, former Tory spin doctor James Chapman’s the Democrats, and Economist writer Jeremy Cliffe’s the Radicals – driven primarily by opposition to Brexit, with social liberalism as an inevitable adjunct. When each of these groups was announced on Twitter, there was polite (if slightly passive-aggressive) muttering from Lib Dem supporters that, well, isn’t that what the Lib Dems are for?

The arguments for a new party usually run as follows. Neither Theresa May nor Jeremy Corbyn secured a majority at the last election, suggesting that voters do not see either of them as occupying the moderate centre ground. The Lib Dems are too tainted by their time in coalition to win back their pre-2010 support. Also, Brexit has opened up a new fissure in politics, and May and Corbyn are on the same side, united in agreement that there should not be another referendum and that Britain should end freedom of movement. All that means a chunk of voters are, theoretically, up for grabs.

The arguments against are equally compelling, however, and usually revolve around the harshness of a first-past-the-post electoral system to parties with broad but shallow support. After the SDP broke from Labour, it won nearly eight million votes in the 1983 election but only 23 seats. “Subsequent attempts to break through, such as James Goldsmith’s well-funded Referendum Party in 1997 and Ukip in 2015, also stumbled and quickly fell away,” wrote former YouGov head Peter Kellner on 9 April.

As opposition to Brexit and social liberalism are intertwined, a liberal, anti-Brexit party would have to compete with Corbyn’s Labour in its current strongholds: cities such as Bristol and swathes of inner London. A party that sold itself more as “none of the above”, meanwhile, would be likely to attract some support across the country, but would find it hard to gain a firm foothold anywhere.

There are other problems: anyone who went misty-eyed over photos of Tony Blair talking to George Osborne at an education summit in Dubai recently should remember the sizeable gulf between their economic instincts. An anti-Brexit party will collapse if the only things its members can agree on is Brexit.

Then there’s the defection conundrum. How many existing MPs can a new party tempt away? I often return to the 2015 Vice interview given by John McDonnell and Jeremy Corbyn – then marginalised backbenchers – because it contains their answer to a central question now tormenting the Corbynsceptics: if you hated the leadership so much, why didn’t you leave Labour? “It’s our party, not theirs,” said McDonnell. “We’re not the interlopers. We stand in the centre ground of the Labour Party and our traditions.” And just as he never gave up hope of a left-wing takeover, so the party’s right still dreams of wrestling Labour back again.

As my colleague Stephen Bush has written, there is a quirk in all these discussions. There is no supply-side issue for a liberal, anti-Brexit party: influential men are practically falling over themselves to donate one. The problem is demand. Conversely, there is a space in British politics for an authoritarian party with left-wing economic instincts. “That’s the place where Ukip voters were,” says Paula Surridge, a lecturer in politics at Bristol University. “In 2015, Ukip and Labour voters were in the same place on the (economic) left-right scale. They were just as in favour of nationalisation, for example.” The majority of the left don’t define as liberal – and since 2010, that group has become less likely to vote Labour.

“One of the big missed stories about turnout in 2017, when we focused on the youthquake, is that lots of older left-wing voters didn’t turn out,” Surridge tells me. In 2015 and 2017, the more authoritarian a voter was, the less likely they were to vote. Isn’t Theresa May an authoritarian? “But some of them are also ‘never Conservative’.”

In other words, bash the bankers, promise generous pensioner benefits and pledge better workers’ rights – but also champion tough prison sentences, run a punitive immigration enforcement regime and say that young people today need to respect their elders… and as a political party, you’re in business. 

Helen Lewis is deputy editor of the New Statesman. She regularly appears on BBC Radio 4’s Week in Westminster and the News Quiz, and BBC1’s Sunday Politics. 

This article first appeared in the 12 April 2018 issue of the New Statesman, Syria’s world war

The Depths of Hell
Show Hide image

Review: “Self-Portrait as Hairless Dog”, Alex Jones, 2018

Jones’s burners are off, but his face shows no fear: here is a creature that would luxuriate in hellfire as if it were as pleasurable as a hot shower.

The self-portrait as self-abasement has a long history in art: Caravaggio gave his own face to the severed head of Goliath being held aloft by the young sword-wielding David; Stanley Spencer once depicted his sunken haunches, grey skin and squashed genitalia (alongside his wife’s sagging body) next to a carefully depicted leg of mutton; Michelangelo meanwhile showed himself as an empty flayed skin in The Last Judgement  in the Sistine Chapel.

What to make, then, of the mocked-up photograph currently scarring Twitter’s collective eyeballs which the radio host, conspiracy theorist and provocateur Alex Jones posted, portraying him as a hairless dog lying on a kitchen hob?

This strange, Hieronymus Bosch monster, stares expressionless at the viewer anticipating a moue of distaste. The Jones-hound is unapologetic, fleshily pink in a pose that carries uncomfortable references to Renaissance nudes.

Titian’s Venus D’Urbino shows a voluptuously sensual woman: the thoughts she is meant to evoke can only be carnal. But it is harder to see the Jones image, however coquettish, as drawing the panting male gaze. Is his nakedness a reminder that we are all born of original sin and creatures of shame, like Adam and Eve expelled from the Garden of Eden? Is his canine persona an acknowledgement that we nothing but animals?

The kitchen hob on which this squidgy hybrid lounges clearly alludes to the flames of hell. Rogier van der Weyden showed the flames licking at terrified sinners in his Last Judgement of 1450: this, he says, is what happens to those who err from the ways of the Bible. Jones’s burners are off, but his face shows no fear: here is a creature that would luxuriate in hellfire as if it were as pleasurable as a hot shower.

It is hard not to interpret the Caravaggio, Spencer and Michelangelo depictions other than as as expressions of self-loathing, of a disgust so profound it came to the fore almost despite themselves. Jones, though, looks complacent, even contented. Medieval bestiaries are full of such fanciful creatures; often they are emblems of evil, the Devil’s playthings that are beyond redemption and settled in their fallen state. This, perhaps, is closer to the truth.

However, the cleverness of the image ultimately lies in something it doesn’t show. The animal’s plump tail covers, almost coyly, its genitals and what Jones’s expression says is: don’t worry, if you are looking for bollocks, well, that’s me.

Michael Prodger is Reviews Editor at the New Statesman. He is an art historian, Senior Research Fellow at the University of Buckingham, and a former literary editor.