1974, 1983, and 2017: A Tale of Three Manifestos

In 1983, Labour was fighting for its political life. It was riven by splits between the hard-left quasi Marxists and the centre-left social democrats. Two years earlier, a fair chunk of the centre-left bloc had left Labour entirely, forming a new Social Democratic Party. The SDP, in alliance with the Liberals, were snapping at Labour's heels. And confronting them both was Margaret Thatcher. Written off in 1981 as the Prime Minister who had presided over economic catastrophe and social collapse, by 1983 she was riding victory in the Falklands, and belated economic recovery, to a victory of her own.

Amidst this crisis for Labour, came the day when they needed to decide what was going to go into the election manifesto. Instead of being a protracted fight, the party leadership decided to adopt the various policy documents produced over the last few years and just put them together. What they got was a document which promised a drastic break from the Britain of the early Eighties. It proposed unilateral nuclear disarmament, immediate withdrawal from the European Economic Community and NATO, the imposition of exchange controls, the creation of a 'siege economy' (whereby British jobs and firms would be protected by the state against external markets, the abolition of the House of Lords, renationalisation of BT, shipping and aerospace companies, and the reunification of Ireland against Unionist wishes.

It had nearly been worse. Until the last minute, it contained a policy on the regulation and inspection of puppy farms.

Roy Hattersley, a leading figure on the centre of the party, was one of those appalled by the document. He went to see the head of the NEC, and demanded to know what the hell they were playing at, nodding this through. The party official replied grimly, that this was (leading left-winger) Tony Benn's election, and so it would be fought on his terms.

The strange thing is, it wasn't even the most left-wing Labour manifesto ever. In February 1974, Labour went before the electorate promising to impose price and pay controls, allow workers a huge say in how their companies operated, vast nationalisations, including the top 100 companies, and:

Bring about a fundamental and irreversible shift in the balance of power and wealth in favour of working people and their families.

Eliminate poverty wherever it exists in Britain, and commit ourselves to a substantial increase in our contribution to fight poverty abroad.

On polling day 1983 Labour slumped to it's worst result since it had become a truly national party. It's 209 seats (to Mrs Thatcher's 397 seats) hid the terrifying reality that Labour had only taken 27.6% of the vote, a mere 2% ahead of the Liberal/SDP Alliance. It could have been worse; some Labour figures feared if the election had carried on for another week, they would have come third. Many Labour voters told the party they had voted for the party despite the programme, not because of it. The manifesto was already known as 'the longest suicide note' in history, a name given to it by Labour MP Gerald Kaufman.

By comparison, the election of February 1974 produced a much less clear result. Labour won 301 seats, to the Tory's 297; confusingly, the Conservatives polled 200,000 more votes than Labour. Both were well short of the winning post of 318, and in a fractured Parliament, neither party was able to cobble together a coalition. Harold Wilson formed a minority government, and struggled on until the autumn, when he won a narrow election victory on a more nuanced programme.

So why has 1983 gone down as the 'longest suicide note in history,' and not 1974? Probably because of the result. In 1983, Labour crashed to a catastrophic defeat. In February 1974, they got into government, although this masked their tumbling vote share and underlying electoral problems. How 2017's manifest will be judged by history is unknowable until the voters have delivered their verdict on June 9th.

But if the effect of 1983's manifesto was intended by some to show the hard-left a lesson, then it worked. This grim strategy had nearly destroyed the Labour party, but it had taken the hard-left with it. Most importantly of all, Tony Benn had been ousted from his Bristol seat, preventing him from standing in the leadership election. The slow process of rescuing Labour as a party of power began. But those ideas were beyond the pale. Many of them were actually brought in by New Labour in 1997-2010. But they didn't shout about it. My fear is that, by tying all of these ideas, many of which are a left-wing dream, to Cornyn's electoral prospects, his team are pushing them out of contention yet again.

Oh, and at 124 pages, 2017's manifesto is a bit longer than the 39 pages of the 'longest suicide note in history.'

Vote the Liberal Elite, Not The Fascist!

Back in November, I wrote that the United States of America had to undergo a long, dark night of the soul, as it faced the wait to find out whether Donald Trump or Hillary Clinton was to become president. That dark night has since transformed into a living nightmare for the United States.

Yet all of that could be a picnic in comparison to what could happen this weekend. The French are undergoing a presidential election which is more like an existential crisis than a dark night of the soul. On Sunday, the electorate faces a choice between Emmanuel Macron, a former Socialist economy minister and investment banker turned independent centrist, and Marine Le Pen, leading a 'reformed' version of the Front National, a political party founded by former Nazi collaborators, Holocaust deniers, and those who wanted France to keep hold of Algeria by whatever means necessary.

The French political spectrum is in chaos, with neither of the two 'main' political parties having made the run off round of voting. Les Republicains have been punished for the scandals of the nominee, Francois Fillon. And the Parti Socialiste is paying for the troubled presidency of Francois Hollande; the wound is possibly fatal. France has economically stagnated for years, and faces deep and chronic social and cultural fissures. Elections at moments like these can be defining.

However, this should not be a hard choice. One of the two in the final round is a fascist, no matter how they dress it up. The other is not. Even if you disagree profoundly with Macron's programme, as many in France do, when confronted with a ballot paper showing only a fascistic and a non-fascistic option, there can only be one choice. Those on the French hard-left who are unable to stomach Macron are playing with fire in choosing Le Pen.

In 2002, a splintered voting scene saw Jean-Marie Le Pen, Marine's father, ease into the second round against Jacques Chirac. The result was extraordinary. 'Vote the crook, not the fascist,' was the left's rallying cry. The cordon sanitaire held, and Chirac destroyed Le Pen in a landslide, as voters from the centre-left and hard-left flocked to his candidacy. They didn't do so because they were enthused by another five years of Gaullist right. They did so because they realised that to put the Front National into power would be profoundly damaging to themselves, France, and the rest of Europe.

An anti Le Pen rally, 2002

I am not going to predict what will happen tomorrow. A look back on this blog will confirm that I've been caught on the wrong side of reality once too often to feel comfortable doing that. But I really hope that tomorrow the French electorate consign Marine Le Pen to the scrap heap, and send the Front National back into the pit it came from. The slogan 'Vote the liberal minded former economy minister and investment banker, not the fascist!' may not have the same ring to it, but I hope it is what the French people think as they go into the polls tomorrow.

Things did get better; don't try and pretend otherwise

I clearly remember my friend John being very worried. He was warning as many people as he could that, because of it all, we were going to have to work much harder than before. I have to admit, he got me worried. After all, I had no idea what the word labour meant. It could mean work, for all I knew. I was seven.

And then it turned out all ok. As the No More School Party swept to power in our class election. No surprises really. I can't even remember who else was on the ballot. Or, in fact, if Mrs McGregor even counted the votes. But I do remember having the result whispered in my ear, to announce to the whole of my Yr 2 class. I made a fine returning officer, if I say so myself.

Oh, and it was sunny. But then, don't your memories of childhood always seem sunnier in comparison?

That's it. That's what I remember about the general election of 1997. I was way too young to realise that, around the country, a political earthquake was taking place. In 1992, there'd been talk that Labour may never hold office again. But within five years, the situation was completely different. Labour won 418 seats, and led the Tories by 12.5 percentage points. A Labour majority of 179. The Conservative party destroyed, slumped to its worst election defeat since 1832. Tony Blair later admitted that he felt he had done something wrong, so great was the scale of the electoral slaughter of his opponents.

I don't want this to turn into a retrospective analysis on the whole New Labour government. I did one of those, a long time ago. Go and read that (and laugh at me in my student years). I'm not sure I still agree with bits of it, but overall it holds up fine.

No, what I want to say today is a couple of things. Firstly, the Blair and Brown governments were the most redistributive in British history. No government before them took as much money from the top and gave it to those at the bottom. They should have shouted more about it, they should have pointed it out again and again and again. That they didn't is a crying shame, but they had their reason, a fear of being defeated. By avoiding defeat, the Blair/Brown governments managed to sustain this improvement in the lives of working people, until the financial crash knocked them off course and set the kaleidoscope in motion.

But for those of you who say there's no difference between a Labour government and a Conservative government, wake up and grow up. There is patently a difference. There is all the difference in the world. If the purpose of the Labour party is to ensure a Labour government in office that can improve the lives of working people, then 1997-2010 were indeed good and productive years, all the rest of it aside.

Lastly, is the point that always terrifies me. As the polling stations opened on that sunny May morning, twenty years ago today, millions of 18-23 year olds went to cast their ballots for the first time. None of them had known a Labour government within their memories. The last Labour government had fallen in March 1979, brought down in a vote of no-confidence on the floor of the House of Commons. The last Labour election victory had been in October 1974. Many of those first time voters hadn't been born then. A handful had lived every day of their lives under a Conservative administration.

At a time when Labour is staring into the abyss of electoral wipeout, more akin to 1931 than 1983, it is a sobering thought that the voters who may one day end the Conservative regime are at most 12 years old. The youngest are six or seven. We may have a long way to go again until there is another new dawn, until the same sense of optimism and hope propels the left back into power in this country.

And I hope it will be sunny.

Oklahoma City

The time is 09:02. The date is April 19th, 1995. In Oklahoma City, in the heart of America, a truck bomb detonated beneath an office building used by the federal government. A third of the building collapsed in the explosion. Among the 168 dead were 19 children; the bomb had been placed beneath the creche. It was then the largest terrorist attack in American history, and today has only been surpassed by the unparalleled September 11th attacks.

As the news of the carnage came in, many pointed to the Middle East. The attack had all the hallmarks of recent atrocities in Palestine and Lebanon. After all, it was Middle Eastern terrorists who had bombed the World Trade Centre in 1993. The US President, Bill Clinton, was urged to close down US airports, to stop those responsible from escaping the country. The biggest question was why on Earth these killers had travelled all the way to Oklahoma.

And then someone looked at the date. April 19th.

In 1993, federal law enforcement agents had got into a showdown with an extreme Christian cult in Waco, Texas. The cult leader, David Koresh, was amassing weapons for the end of the world, which he believed was soon. He was also accused of abusing the children in the compound; Koresh was practising polygamy. When law enforcement agents attempted to seize the weapons, the cultists fired on them. This led to a long stand-off between the FBI and those inside. With no end in sight, the FBI began to try and force their way in on April 19th, 1993. The building burnt down, set on fire by Koresh and his followers. 76 people burnt to death.

The Waco siege, along with another armed standoff at Ruby Ridge in 1992, became celebrated causes on the American right. Many saw the federal government as their enemy, and elements of the Christian right began to claim that the end of days would come in a conflict between citizens and the federal government. Fed by talk radio hosts, this toxic atmosphere fed into mainstream politics. In 1994, the Democrats were hammered at the midterm elections by the Republicans, who brought a hard-edged, obstructionist rightist politics into Washington DC. The federal government was blamed as the cause of all ills, and treated as beneath contempt.

One of those influenced by this tide of bile was Timothy McVeigh, an army veteran who had come to mistrust and hate the government. Driven by the chorus of voices claiming that something had to be done, McVeigh did just that, packing a truck full of explosives and fertilisers, and parking it underneath the Alfred Murrah building.

The person intent on bringing death and misery had not traveled 'all the way to Oklahoma.' He'd driven up the road.

What is the point of marking this anniversary? The Oklahoma City bombing stands as a warning to us all. When you create a toxic atmosphere by bashing others, whoever they may be, you bring a moment like this nearer. When you dehumanise people, you make it easier to justify extreme measures against them. When you issue a call for action, those who are troubled, disturbed, or full of anger and hatred may well respond to your calls. Last year, a Labour MP was shot dead in the streets of her own constituency, by a person with far-right views, who shouted "Britain First" as he carried out his attacks. The media and political screams of 'Take Back Control' during the EU referendum had played out in awful terms.

As we prepare to go through yet another fractious election campaign, remember that. Remember that words can have consequences. And sometimes those consequences can be utterly horrific.

If you want to find out more about the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing, I cannot recommend this documentary enough:

Another Election? We could try these instead...

As we're plunged back into the campaign trail, many in Britain are bemoaning that we're being asked to vote *again*. So, here is a whistle stop tour through history to see what some of our better alternatives have been...

Roman Empire

Back in the good old days, things were much easier. If you fancied having a stab at being emperor, you got your soldiers to proclaim you. Easy really.

I mean, there was then the small issue of then fighting off all the others who had done the same, and then holding power against all those who tried to do the same to you. But it was a very meritocratic system, and these days there is a lack of social mobility, so definitely something to consider.

Anglo-Saxon England

Two possible variations here. The Anglo-Saxon king of the English was semi-elective; in theory the Witan (the collection of powerful Earls and bishops who advised the king) could chose whoever they wanted to be king. In practice it was normally the son of the previous monarch. Not always the eldest son, mind you. Sometimes brothers got a look in, even when there were children still alive. Alfred the Great only became king of the West Saxons after three of his brothers had been king. Alfred's son, Edward the Elder, later had to see off a rebellion by his cousin, Æthelwold, who made a bid for power on Alfred's death in 899; Æthelwold used the fact that his father had been king before Alfred to legitimise his bid for power. Sons born to the sitting king often jumped the order of precedence over any children he'd had before he became king.

The elective nature of the Anglo-Saxon kingship is perhaps best seen in the crisis of 1066. Edward the Confessor died childless, and the nearest related member of the House of Cerdic was only a child. Instead, the Witan elected Harold Godwinson as king, off the back of his military and governing experience. The flaw in this system is also shown in 1066; once you've established the idea that anyone can become king, anyone can give it a shot. And so it was that William the Bastard, the Duke of Normandy and a distant relative of the Anglo-Saxon monarchy, launched a long shot bid for the throne. Harold Godwinson went down to defeat at Hastings, and the rest, as they say, was history.

The Holy Roman Empire

The Holy Roman Emperor was chosen by an electoral college, made up of three bishops and four princes. The winner (who was always magically the son of the previous Emperor) was then crowned by the Pope (until 1530, at any rate). An electorate of seven people is a hell of a lot easier to talk to directly, and the rest of us can get on with our lives without having to worry about all these important things. It'd certainly make political advertising much simpler.

But this was only from the late Middle Ages onwards. Charlemagne was crowned Emperor of the West by the Pope during Christmas Day Mass in 800, apparently without any warning. Still I reckon he'd have settled for a new jumper or something. Must have been pretty awkward, as I don't think he'd bought the Pope anything in return.

The first US Election

The framers of the US Constitution had a very clear idea of who the first president was going to be. Only George Washington could bridge the gaps between the various segments in American society that had emerged under the original system of government that had bumbled along since independence from Great Britain. And so once he agreed to have the job, the actual election was a formality. No one ran against him, any many states just nodded the approval through. Washington certainly didn't do anything as unseemly as campaigning for the job or anything. How times differ...

Modern Papal Elections

You lock 120 elderly men inside an art museum, and when 2/3 of them agree on a replacement, they start a fire to signal to the outside world they can be let out. But it's ok as the Holy Spirit keeps an eye on things.

No, really.

Shadowy Conspiracy Government

I am still wading my way through The X-Files. Every few episodes, there is a smoky, shadowy room shown. From this room, a cabal of rich men direct world affairs from behind the scenes. They alone know what is good for the world. The democratic facade they allow to continue is not that actually wields any power.

Now, leave aside how easy it would be to read some dreadful anti-Semitism into this. Or how quaint it is that these people rig elections with ease, but are seemingly incapable of finding Mulder at any given point without visiting Scully and asking her.

No, look at the world around you. Switch on the TV. Open the BBC News website. Does this look like a world that is being organised and planned?

Nope, didn't think so. I'd highly recommend Jon Ronson's book Them: Adventures with Extremists. You'll soon be worrying more about the people who believe this than those apparently running the show...

Which leaves...

There is an awful quotation, attributed to many of the usual suspects, that says that democracy is the worst form of government, apart from all the others we've tried. Well, perhaps.

And we have tried many others. Not just the weird and wonderful systems outlined above, but corrupt oligarchies, restricted democracies, and despotic dictatorships. None has served the common good well. None has benefitted ordinary men and women.

But government of the people, by the people, and for the people, as Abraham Lincoln really did say, ensures a say in the future by each and every one of us. Yes, we may be fed up of elections. Yes, we may be unsure of the ability of the individual to shape the process.

But unless you want you future determined by clerics, soldiers, people who claim they are gods, or David Icke's lizards, then you are stuck with democracy and elections. Make the most of it. Many of those who came before us weren't even given this tiny say in their futures.

Register, and wait for June 8th. Then go out and have your say. Because you're bloody lucky to have the chance to go and do so. Lizards or not.

Here We Go Again...

And today was supposed to be a productive day. I was going to do some marking, some planning, some cleaning.

And then Theresa May decided to go and ruin it by announcing that she was calling a general election for June 8th.

For those of us on the left, be it in the disintegrating Labour party, the shattered remains of the Liberal Democrats, the idealistic cocoon of the Greens, or floating somewhere in between, there can only be one reaction to this announcement:

The good news is that, unlike 2015, there won't be a shock outcome. Unlike 2010, there won't be a chance after the election to keep the Tories out. Even if the Lib Dems make gains (as predicted), the collapse of Labour will put Theresa May back into Number 10, possibly with a majority of over a hundred. Labour will almost certainly do worse than they did in 1983, under Michael Foot, when they slid to 209 MPs. They may even drop to the total that John Major got in 1997, 165 survivors of the Blair landslide. There are whispers they may go below that. 

If you care about progressive politics, or even having a functioning opposition to the government, this election could be a bleak milestone. Brexit aside, the vision that May has laid out in the last few months has been ugly and regressive. And it is about to be endorsed by millions.

I normally relish elections. They're what politics junkies live for. But not this one. I cannot see any light at the end of the tunnel. This is going to be a bloodbath. Let's get it over and done with.

How Long the Night?

Myrie it is while sumer

ylast with fugheles song.

Oc nu neheth windes blast

and weder strong. Ei, ei!

what this nicht is long. And

ich with wel michel wrong

soregh and murne and

fast.

It is pleasant, indeed, while the summer lasts

with the mild pheasants' song ...

but now I feel the northern wind's blast—

its severe weather strong. 

Alas! Alas! This night seems so long!

And I, because of my momentous wrong,

now grieve, mourn and fast.

How Long the Night, c.13th century English poem.