This time, I could stand the hope – lessons from the election
On Thursday evening, a group of around 20 Labour staffers sat in my front room in Brussels. The clock was about to strike 10.00pm UK time. In a few seconds we were going to hear the results of the exit poll…
Earlier a friend of mine had tweeted me with John Cleese’s classic line from ‘Clockwise’: “It’s not the despair… I can take the despair. It’s the hope I can’t stand.”
I know what he meant. In the previous week, one outlying poll, using a brand new methodology, had suggested that we were on course for a hung Parliament. While everyone else saw a Tory majority as inevitable, YouGov broke with consensus and thought Labour would exceed expectations. It sounded too good to be true. And yet… And yet… It was the hope I couldn’t stand.
We’d been here before, as well. Two years ago, roughly the same group of people had gathered in a bar expecting to see Ed Miliband on his way into Number 10. By 10.01pm, that dream had died. A year later, we were together again to see if we had done enough to convince British voters to stay in the EU. The polls were neck and neck, the hope was there… and then, once more, it was dashed.
So you could forgive us for clutching our glasses tightly, teeth clenched, peering worriedly at the screen as Big Ben sounded 10 o’clock… and the screen turned a familiar Tory blue. “We are predicting the Conservatives will be the largest party,” intoned David Dimbleby. A groan and a resigned sigh around the room. It had happened again.
And then a small voice of hope from somewhere at the back: “Hang on: ‘largest party’? So they haven’t got a majority? It’s a hung parliament?!” A few seconds for this to sink in, and then a huge cheer. They were right! Maybe we were going to do well. Maybe this was going to be a good night!
And it was. Anneliese Dodds, my fantastic MEP boss, turned an impressive 15,000 majority into an astonishing 23,000 one and became the new MP for Oxford East. Labour won back seats in Scotland that were supposed to have been lost for a generation. We held on in Edgbaston, in Exeter, in Ilford and in Hove. Not only that, we won new seats – in Reading, in Plymouth, in Canterbury… in Kensington, for Christ’s sake. The constituency in which the Daily Mail’s office is situated now has a Labour MP!
It was a good night. We stayed up too late, we drank too much and we slept too little. And now, as the dust is starting to settle, I think there are three important things to say.
- Jeremy Corbyn is owed an apology, and a lot of credit…
I don’t think I’m alone – and I certainly shouldn’t be – in saying that I misjudged Jeremy Corbyn. While I never joined in with, nor approved of, the vehement criticism of him from the moment he was appointed leader, I hadn’t voted for him and I did harbour real doubts about the direction he was taking the party in.
Like a lot of people (including former Gordon Brown adviser Theo Bertram, whose Corbyn mea culpa blog is well worth a read), I thought there were some central truths about how modern political campaigning works. It is infinitely harder, the accepted logic goes, to persuade a non-voter to get out and cast their ballot than it is to change the mind of someone who already votes and bring them over to your cause. Non-voters will only let you down. They’ll come to a rally, they’ll retweet and ‘like’ to their hearts content, they’ll even tell pollsters that they are “definitely” going to vote, but when it comes down to it they’ll stay at home and do something else instead.
We were wrong. Corbyn, and the team around him, saw the untapped potential in a lot of those non-voters (especially the young), decided that the rewards of converting them were worth the effort, and developed a strategy to get them out – by delivering a message of hope, by being unapologetically authentic and honest, and by challenging accepted wisdom rather than being resigned to it. He and his team deserve a huge amount of credit for increasing Labour’s share of the vote by ten percentage points, and our total number of seats by 30. And he of course deserves to keep leading the party and building on this success.
- But we mustn’t forget that we still didn’t actually win…
Those who harboured doubts about Jeremy Corbyn aren’t the only ones who need to show a little humility, though. Yes, the Labour results of 2017 are a massive improvement on those of 2015. But certain truths are unavoidable.
Theresa May is still the Prime Minister. The Conservatives are still in power. Worse still, they are reliant on the deeply unsavoury DUP to stay there. For all the progress we have made as a party in the last two years, the fact remains that the UK government is likely to continue cutting public services, pushing for a hard Brexit and generally letting down the working people of our country. It’s only when we are actually in power that we can deliver on the promises set out in our manifesto, and reward those who came out and voted for us in the hope of seeing a better society.
So those in Team Corbyn cannot just say that we did really well on Thursday night and leave it at that. We didn’t get over the line. We fell short, and in some pretty generous circumstances at that. I think it’s safe to say that we are highly unlikely to ever face such an inept, uninspiring Tory party campaign again. They will raise their game ahead of the next election, and we need to as well. Moving on from New Labour doesn’t have to mean throwing out absolutely everything from the Blair and Brown years. We still need a professional communications outfit; we still need proper message discipline; we still need to think and act strategically. None of those things involve compromising our values. In fact, they’re how we put our values into practice.
- And we need to start doing some serious thinking…
So we need to build on last week’s good news, and not just rest on it. That means considerably stepping up policy development. The 2017 Labour manifesto was good. It set out a range of policies which were progressive, popular, and easy to explain on the doorstep. It was an especially impressive document given that the people writing it presumably thought they had another three years to finesse it, before May’s surprise announcement gave them a matter of weeks to get it done.
But it was also quite conservative. It was a long list of promises, with little in the way of an overarching narrative to tell the country who we are as a party. It didn’t have a clear sense of prioritisation – which were our headline pledges, and which were the smaller ones supporting them? The promises didn’t always pass that key test of meaningful politics: that it shouldn’t be difficult for a sensible person to at least set out a dissenting view. If all you’re saying are things that are generally accepted to be reasonable, then you’re not really challenging yourself or taking tough decisions.
The UK faces some immense tests over the coming years: leaving the EU and making our own way in the world; the pressing need to adapt to climate change and end our reliance on fossil fuels (seemingly without the cooperation of the US); the challenges that automation and casual employment pose to working people; our ageing population and the crisis in social care; the new forms taken by stateless terrorism; rebalancing our economy geographically and sectorally; devolving power in a meaningful way. If we are honest with ourselves, we haven’t started to scratch the surface on many of these issues yet.
I don’t mean to take away for a moment from Thursday’s immense, unpredicted success. Jeremy Corbyn’s Labour has earned the right to be taken seriously, to be allowed to carry on with the job and to be treated with the respect due to a powerful political party in the ascendancy. That’s brilliant. But it’s only half the battle. We have to use the coming months and years to show that we are not just a viable, energetic opposition. We need to push on and show that we are in fact the natural party of government.
To use what seems like an appropriate word – we have the momentum. We now have to build on it.
Six things that led to Brexit
Like most people engaged (or even remotely interested) in politics right now, I’ve spent a lot of the last two weeks trying to work out how on earth we got here: to a situation where the UK is on its way out of the EU, and with most of our assumptions about British politics turned completely on their head.
I’m not for a minute saying that I have managed to work it out, but working on the assumption that writing things down can help to clarify them – and that if we’re hoping to shape what happens next, it’s a pretty good idea to have thought about what came before – here are six things that I think helped contribute to a Leave vote.
(The usual caveats about lists apply. It’s not exhaustive, and there will be plenty of things I’ve overlooked. But right now, for me, these are the main themes that I keep coming back to when trying to make sense of it all.)
- The impact of globalisation on working class people in rich countries. As this fascinating Washington Post article shows, over the last 20 years, every single group of people in the world (rich people in rich countries, rich people in poor countries, poor people in poor countries) has seen their living standards improve except poor people in rich countries. They are globalisation’s losers, and nowhere near enough has been done to acknowledge or address that problem, and so those people are rightly angry. This is not just a British phenomenon – you only need to look at the success of Donald Trump, Marine le Pen and others – but by holding a referendum that put the status quo on one side and the opportunity for change on the other, we provided a lightning rod.
- Labour complacency, followed by confusion, over the impact of immigration. From the end of the 1990s onwards, as the UK embraced globalisation and opened up to the world, we moved incredibly quickly to a new, multicultural future without acknowledging that not everyone would welcome it as rapidly as liberal professionals in big cities. The accession of Eastern European countries to the EU in 2004 with no transitional controls played a part in that, but there was also a wider, less tangible sense that no one was allowed to express any kind of concern about immigration without being labelled a racist or a bigot. The public space to air any kind of concerns was shut down, meaning people had to look elsewhere to find an outlet. This was exacerbated by the Miliband years in which immigration was correctly identified as a weakness for Labour, but for which the solution proposed was not to address the issue head-on, but rather to “move the conversation onto something else”.
- Nigel Farage’s UKIP rebranding. The UKIP of the 1990s was a laughable fringe party obsessed with the idea of “sovereignty” above all else. They asked people why they would want their laws made in Brussels when those laws could be made in Westminster. But for most people, Westminster was just as distant and unaccountable as Brussels, so the idea never caught anyone’s imagination. Then Farage, like the expert campaigner he is, decoupled ends from means: while his main concern over the EU might have been about sovereignty, he saw that the major issue for those people whose votes he needed was immigration. So why not pivot the party’s focus and promise instead that leaving the EU would mean taking back control of our borders, rather than our laws?
- David Cameron’s infuriating short-termism. Trying to hold his party together, first through a painful (half-finished) process of modernisation, and then through the compromises of coalition, Cameron used “Brussels” as the catch-all bad guy for anything and everything that was going wrong. Never one to engage in difficult, long-term thinking if he could instead postpone today’s crisis with a cheap shot, Cameron never looked beyond the horizon and saw that he was simultaneously damaging the brand of the EU in the eyes of British people, and burning every possible bridge he might need further down the line. Remarkably, he even carried on doing this once he’d set the country on the path to the referendum and so knew that such a reckoning was coming.
- The spectre of Scotland. Despite (or maybe because of) the fact that everything in politics seems so unpredictable at the moment, people clung to the precedent which they thought had been set during the Scottish independence referendum: a “safety first, don’t rock the boat” approach, with a late swing to the status quo. But it was never as simple as that: what was being defended in Scotland was a 300 year old union, intimately bound up with ideas of culture, identity and patriotism – not a 40-year old economic project which only gradually grew into a multi-lingual, multi-cultural union of distinct countries. People also seemed to forget that the Scottish referendum was an incredibly close-run thing, and that Better Together very nearly lost it. On top of that, Labour’s subsequent annihilation in Scotland in May 2015 led party strategists (wrongly, in my view) to believe that the problem was having shared platforms with the Tories. So any similar spirit of bipartisan cooperation was scrapped in favour of protecting a domestic political base.
- The simultaneous loss of our most pro-EU voices. From a Remain perspective, the last thing we needed, a year before the referendum, was for the unashamedly pro-European Liberal Democrats to be decimated and for Labour to elect as its new leader a former Eurosceptic, who even now could only be described as ambivalent about Europe at best. The Lib Dems could never make enough noise on their own, and Labour was (and still is) trying to work out how to speak to and for disenfranchised working class voters who are concerned about immigration and moving over to UKIP. Perhaps not surprisingly, many people did not consider a full-throated defence of EU membership to be a key part of that strategy. Add to that the fact that Jeremy Corbyn’s leadership was seen as under threat from day one, and that his critics within Labour decided to make the local elections the key test of his viability, and you had a Labour party fixated on winning on 5 May before they would even start to think about what was going to happen on 23 June.
There were of course lots of other factors which influenced the outcome – a rising anti-establishment view that had been brewing ever since the expenses scandal; vast swathes of the media being run by people who would financially benefit from EU anti-competition laws no longer applying to them; the persistent and immensely frustrating unwillingness of most people below the age of 25 to actually vote – but the ones above are the ones that I personally keep coming back to.
None of those challenges present easy solutions. The fact is that the UK government – whichever party is in power – needs a proper industrial and economic strategy to look after those people who have suffered most at the hands of globalisation. Labour has to have a mature debate about immigration, which needs to acknowledge that people’s concerns are valid without running away from open, tolerant, liberal values. The Conservative party needs to decide which is most important: reducing immigration or growing the economy, because you can’t have both.
That’s not to say that rising to such challenges is impossible. Anyone looking for a sliver of hope, and some useful pointers as to what we can do next, could do a lot worse than study the campaign to get Sadiq Khan elected as London Mayor. The people behind it ran a positive campaign in which the candidate neutered the strikes against him without ever abandoning his values. He won across the whole of the city: he had support from business leaders, from faith groups, from civil society and trade unions, and he motivated young people to come out and vote. And he is, so far, governing with the same sense of optimistic realism that characterised his campaign. Yes, his was a London-centric campaign and quite often London might as well be a different country. But in these dark days Khan’s success is a beacon of hope – and as we try to wrestle with the realities of a post-EU UK, his is the example I think we should follow.
May you live in interesting times
This was no ordinary election. A blindingly obvious thing to say, perhaps, but an important one nonetheless.
We were asked an absolutely enormous, existential question by our government – and one that boiled down to just two answers, ‘Remain’ or ‘Leave’. We were subject to campaigns from both sides which were defined by anger rather than reason, and in the end a little more than half of the country chose to leave. It was decisive, and we should respect that decision. Now is not the time to look backwards and pick over the mechanics of it all, but instead to look forwards and think about what happens next.
That said, two things that make the referendum different to other elections are worth bearing in mind as we think about the future.
The first is that it was an election based on proportional representation in a country that is defined by its first-past-the-post system. If you’re a Tory in Liverpool, or a Labour voter in Berkshire, your candidate is never going to be on the winning side. So why not put a cross in the box next to UKIP or the Greens instead? They will never get in, but at least it sends a message. Should we really be surprised if, in a referendum campaign dominated more by heat than light, they thought perhaps the same rules might apply here?
That’s why I don’t think those on the Remain side should be making the few people who say they now regret their ‘Leave’ vote the scapegoats for what has happened. If you want someone to blame for that, blame those in power who did not explain the terms of the referendum properly. And remember that there are nowhere near enough regretful Leave voters to have tipped the balance in the other direction, and that if we had voted 52-48 in favour of ‘Remain’ then an equal number of people would probably be thinking “what if?” and wondering if they should have voted Leave. It’s wrong to focus on that small group of people, and a distraction from what we need to be thinking about right now.
The second difference is even more important, because it points to what might happen next. We’re used to voting for political parties, single units defined (roughly) by a set of values turned into specific policies in a published manifesto. When that party gets into power, we know (again, roughly) what to expect from them and we have a set of promises to hold them to in future.
That’s not the case this time. The ‘Leave’ camp was not a coherent entity, and so no one single politician within it is going to feel bound to enact what another one committed to. They all have a different view of what a post-EU UK looks like. We’re already seeing that: Dan Hannan doesn’t think that we should put restrictions on immigration, which for others was the key issue of the debate; Nigel Farage doesn’t think that any money saved by leaving the EU should be spent on the NHS, which to some was a cornerstone of the Leave campaign.
This isn’t business as usual; this is pick‘n’mix politics, a kind of Darwinian policy-making in which only the most populist will survive. Every single element of our national life which was previously defined by our EU membership is potentially up for grabs. If we want certain things to survive into our brave new post-EU world, we’re going to have to fight for them.
As a Labour party member, trust me when I say that now is not the time to walk off the field of play. When we lost power in 2010, we spent six months navel-gazing while the Conservatives defined the terms of debate for the next five years: a focus on deficit reduction and public service cuts above all else. Then again, after the 2015 general election, we indulged in a lengthy and bitter leadership campaign while the sequence of events was put in place that led to last Thursday’s vote, and the Leave side started campaigning in earnest straight away.
We simply cannot afford to let the same thing happen now. We need to decide what it is about our country that we value most and make sure that those things are at the heart of this new process of national self-realisation.
People will have different views about what they should be. For my money, it’s workers’ rights, environmental protection and the fight against tax avoidance. All of those policy areas were defined by our EU membership. I don’t want to see vital protections for British workers and key pieces of climate change legislation redefined as “red tape” and abandoned. I don’t want to see my country turned into an offshore tax haven for the rest of Europe in a desperate attempt to stop businesses leaving for somewhere else.
That is our task now, and it is vital. Before last week, many people said that the question we should be asking was: “what kind of country do we want to be?”. That wasn’t a one-off; we need to be asking ourselves that question every day while the future of our nation and its relationship with the wider world is negotiated for us by a disparate set of politicians who never stood on a single platform and do not have a unified plan for the future.
So to everyone who cares about what happens next, I say this: I know that things seem uncertain, scary and potentially pretty bleak. They do to me too. But this is no time to sit back and leave the big decisions to somebody else. We’ve got work to do.
In defence of public service
Last Thursday afternoon, the MP Jo Cox was murdered on the streets of Yorkshire, while out and about in her constituency, meeting the people she represented and listening to their concerns.
The wider debate about Jo’s killer’s motive – the extent to which he was acting alone, or linked to a wider movement – will rage on, and will not be easily settled. But one deeply worrying thing about her death could be said with certainty almost immediately: she was killed because she was an MP.
Jo Cox was killed because she had chosen a life of public service, and was therefore seen as a legitimate target. That’s a horrible thought.
It’s a truism in the internet age to say that people have become desensitized to the consequences of their actions when those actions take place online. Remove the eye contact, the personal connection, from an interaction, and otherwise mild-mannered people can say the most offensive and extreme things behind the comfort of a pseudonym and an avatar. Public figures in particular are ‘fair game’, as if several thousand followers and Twitter’s blue tick of verification means you can’t be hurt by awful things being said to or about you.
But what if that isn’t the end of the process? What if that desensitization starts leaking back into real life and – to some people – those in the public eye carry the protection of that blue tick with them wherever they go? They deserve it (and ‘it’ can be so, so much worse than 140 characters of vile abuse) because they have put themselves in that position, or so the logic goes. What if online forums and comment sections aren’t the final resting place for awful thoughts that no one would dare give voice to in real life, but instead a breeding ground for those thoughts to become actions?
All of this matters because the contempt with which politicians are currently spoken of is breathtaking. They are viscerally hated by large sections of the public. And it seems to be getting worse.
What is so sad is that this chimes so little with my personal experience working with politicians. Almost without exception, every MP or MEP or councillor I have ever met – from all parties – has gone into public service for the right reasons. They have chosen a path that involves long hours, hard work, intense public scrutiny, and incredibly difficult moral choices when many of them could have done something less all-consuming for more money. They are trying to do the best they can, according to their own values, every day.
But we have lost sight of all of that. Elected politicians are seen as grasping, venal, self-interested megalomaniacs. Unelected civil servants are seen as unaccountable, manipulative pen-pushers stitching up a system that works for them and no one else.
Those attitudes matter. Not just because the people on the receiving end of that abuse are human beings, with real feelings. Not just because we cannot hope to recruit a new generation of MPs or civil servants if that is how the profession is perceived. But because little by little they chip away at the contract between the government and the governed, until those unspoken ties – the ones that say “we put our faith in you to look after us” – start one by one to disappear. And when they go, we are in real trouble.
I’m not naïve. I know that significant responsibility for the way things are rests with politicians themselves. Too often, MPs and others have said the short-term, expedient thing to get them over the line in a single election, without thinking about the cumulative impact that has on the collective consciousness.
Again, that goes for all of them – be it a Labour party narrative that suggests anyone who ever votes Tory is fundamentally evil; a Conservative election campaign built on the suggestion that anyone who finds themselves out of work is a “skiver”; or the SNP turning a blind eye to virtual and physical intimidation carried out in their name. If we are going to rescue politics and public service, then politicians themselves need to reintroduce into the public debate the values and the decency which so many of them embody in their day-to-day business.
The media also has a clear responsibility. One of the more heartbreaking things in the aftermath of Jo Cox’s death was hearing so many people say: “she sounded so wonderful; how come we never heard of her before?” Because journalists don’t write stories about MPs doing their jobs well until after they have retired or, too often, passed away.
Newspaper editors will tell ethics committees that they just give their readers what they want – that the demand is there for salacious gossip and they altruistically respond to it. But at the same time they are attracting advertisers by telling them that their newspaper is an organ of influence: that it has the power to shape debate, to change opinions and behaviour. The truth, as ever, is somewhere in between – which means that journalists and newspapers have a duty to give us a much better and fairer representation of public life than they currently do. They can’t just wait until something horrendous happens before they discover that some politicians were all right after all.
Finally, though, we as citizens need to look at our own role. If the newspaper editors are half-right, then we help to create the demand for stories that do down the role of government and public service as a whole. And those unpleasant, dog-whistle tactics we increasingly see at the tail end of political campaigns are a response to an existing public mood as much as they are an attempt to move that mood in a particular direction.
Democracy is a two-way street. We’re not passive; we are participants – and we have to participate in a civilised and respectful manner if we hope to elect politicians who will do the same with one another. That means taking the time to listen to those who try to tell us that situations are complex and that there may be no easy answer, instead of shouting them down. It means rising above the kind of petty ‘activism’ that sees MPs who voted against action in Syria labelled as “terrorist sympathisers” and those who voted for it sent photographs of dead babies.
We all – the politicians asking for our trust, the press which holds them to account, and the citizens who elect them – need to rise to the challenge that Jo Cox’s death presents to us as a democracy. And that challenge is so simple, so banal that it shouldn’t need to be repeated, and yet on days like this it feels like it has to be: we all need to start being nicer to one another.
It ain’t easy
In the last few weeks, I’ve noticed a new Facebook trend. Every time I log in, another one of my friends is asking their social network the same question: “how do you think I should vote in the referendum?”
Depressingly, this is almost always followed by that friend saying that they feel completely let down by the people who are supposed to be giving them the guidance they need. “How can I trust any of them?” they ask.
I don’t blame anyone who feels like that. Too often, it seems the debate is being dominated by people just hurling abuse at one another, making a bold assertion which is then instantly denied by the other side. The message they seem to be sending is: “Look, this is easy. Just vote for us. If you don’t, you’re an idiot.”
But the question on the ballot paper is anything but easy. We insult people’s intelligence if we pretend that it is. You can’t just tell someone that they’re a moron for disagreeing with you and hope that that’s good enough to get them on board.
So, in the interests of trying to help out those friends of mine who are still unsure, and in an attempt to do so in a way that takes some of the heat out of things, below are my thoughts on a few key areas of the debate, and what you might want to think about if you are still undecided. It’s a slightly longer blog than usual, but I hope it’s helpful to at least a few people.
To be upfront and honest – this will not be an unbiased read. I am vehemently pro-Remain, and so I’m not going to sit on the fence. But I’ll try to explain it in a way that shows how I got to that position.
And I promise I won’t think you’re an idiot if by the end of it all you don’t agree with me.
The cost of membership
We pay to be a member of the EU. There is no getting away from that fact. It is a club with a fee. Larger and more prosperous countries like the UK pay more than smaller, less well-to-do ones.
It’s important to get that figure right, though. It is not – despite what you might have seen from the Leave campaign – £350m a week. That figure is simply incorrect, and it’s calculated by doing some pretty dubious maths.
The accurate figure is £8.5bn a year. The Leave campaign’s figure assumes a much higher amount of £18bn. That’s how much the UK would pay, if you didn’t factor other things in. For instance, we have an instant rebate of £5bn, taking it down to £13bn. And then the EU directly spends £4.5bn on the UK – investment in infrastructure, medical research, support for the poorest regions in the country – bringing it down to £8.5bn.
As a standalone figure, that sounds like a lot – and of course, when we’re talking about taxpayers’ money, it is. Any government should be making sure that a sum like that is well spent. But it is also worth thinking of it in context: every year, our government spends over £730bn in total. That makes our EU membership fee a little over 1% of total spending. Put another way, of the £11,500 that is spent per person per year in the UK, just £133 is spent on being a member of the EU.
Some people will still argue that’s too much – and you might agree – but it’s important we do it on the basis of proper figures, and that we put those figures in context. It is also worth considering, of course, that our relationship with the EU is not purely transactional, and that our £8.5bn arguably delivers a lot more for us, which is a little harder to directly quantify.
Trade and the economy
Respected estimates put the number of British jobs linked to our membership of the EU at three million. But it’s hard for people to know what that means. Which jobs? If we left, would they disappear overnight? And isn’t the UK one of the world’s largest economies anyway? Wouldn’t we cope on our own?
Firstly, it is worth saying that – as with all economic predictions – no one can really tell you the exact impact of leaving the EU. There are too many variables for precision.
But it is at least worth bearing in mind that pretty much every respected economic voice – the Treasury, the Bank of England, the IMF, the Institute for Fiscal Studies – think that the impact would be negative. And we are already seeing examples of the kind of economic trouble that we might face. Last weekend, a number of polls gave the Leave campaign a lead. On Monday morning, the pound fell 1.5 cents against the dollar. And in April and May of this year, investors took a total of £68bn in cash out of the UK – that’s the biggest withdrawal since the financial crisis. And that’s just what’s happening when people think we might leave.
Secondly, you need to define the timescale we are talking about. In the short term, absolutely everyone – including the Leave campaign – agrees that there would be a significant shock to the UK economy, and it would be a negative one. The disagreement is then over how long it would take to recover.
Brexiteers argue that the EU needs us more than we need them, and so it would be in their interests to arrange a new trade deal with the UK as soon as possible. To justify this, they point out that while £223bn of UK exports go to the EU every year, some £291bn of EU exports go to the UK. By that measure, we are more important to them than the other way around.
Again, though, context is everything. For the UK, that £223bn is nearly 50% of all our exports. For the EU, their £291bn is just over 10%. In that sense, we are much less important and in a much weaker negotiating position.
Of course, we can’t – and shouldn’t – deny that the UK is the fifth biggest economy in the world, and so will be able to strike reasonably good trade deals with other countries around the world in time. But we would be doing that as a standalone country of 65 million people, and not part of the world’s biggest trade bloc of 500 million. And it would take time: the EU-Canada trade deal currently on the table has taken seven years so far.
So in the long run we could get back to a position of strength, following the short-term economic shocks of Brexit. But, as John Maynard Keynes said, “in the long run we are all dead”. How long is acceptable for the UK to be suffering economically, and for people to be out of jobs or in low-paid ones? Five years? Seven? Ten? If you’re 20 now, then that’s the first decade of your working life hamstrung by trying to find a job in an underperforming economy. Is it worth doing that to ourselves – administering a self-inflicted shock so soon after the financial crisis?
Immigration
Last, but far from least, is perhaps the most emotive and divisive issue of the referendum: immigration.
To a large extent, people’s views on immigration in the EU debate will reflect their views on immigration as a whole. Fair enough, you might think. But it is still important to be clear about what exactly is on the table – and what isn’t.
Immigrants currently arrive in the UK from both EU and non-EU countries. In 2014, 168,000 people from outside the EU came to the UK. You might think that figure is too high, about right, or too low. But it has nothing to do with the referendum on our EU membership. The UK government has the power to restrict that number to zero if it wants to, whether we are in the EU or not.
Immigration from EU countries is different. Being part of the EU means signing up to the free movement of people (as well as of capital, services and goods) and that means allowing other EU citizens to come and work in our country. By the same token, UK citizens are free to go and work elsewhere. The figures suggest that this is generally balanced: there are about two million EU citizens living in the UK, and about two million UK citizens living in other EU countries. So you could see it as an equal exchange, if you want to look at things in that way.
Added to that is the fact that EU migrants are net contributors to the UK economy. They tend to be highly educated, of working age, and they pay more in taxes than they take out in benefits (in fact, just 0.2% of EU migrants claim out-of-work benefits without having contributed first). We are not part of the so-called ‘Schengen’ system (of passport free travel), and we cooperate closely – through Europol – with our EU partners to make sure that suspected terrorists and people with criminal convictions are not allowed to enter the UK.
And lastly, there is the fact that those countries which are in Europe but outside the EU – like Norway and Switzerland – have to accept the principle of free movement if they want access to the single market. So if we want to secure that good trade deal, we might not be able to close the borders anyway. And if we prioritise lowering immigration, then the price tag would come in the form of a much worse deal economically. That’s a key question for the Leave camp: which is most important to them, protecting the economy or reducing levels of immigration? Because it’s very hard to see how you could have both.
The fact is that for a lot of people such statistics won’t matter. Theirs is an emotional response. They don’t like that, over time, they have seen – or worry that they will see – the culture and traditions of their town, city or whole country changed by immigration. They don’t like that whenever they have tried to raise those concerns they feel they’ve been labelled a bigot or a racist and told they’re not allowed to think like that. It’s a vein of sentiment that Nigel Farage has very cleverly tapped into, telling people that he is the only one who understands those concerns and somehow – pretty disingenuously – saying that if we only left the EU these things would be better.
I think we need to have a national conversation about immigration. I think it needs to be of a level and a calibre considerably higher than anything that we’ve had so far, and certainly than we’re seeing in the referendum debate. In fact, I think if we’d had it a lot earlier then the polls probably wouldn’t be looking as close as they are now. But we simply do not have time to have and resolve that debate in the next 11 days.
Instead, I think it’s best for people to consider the multiple elements of the EU debate before they cast their vote:
- It does cost money to be in the EU. But that money is a fraction of what we spend as a nation, the tangible returns are good and the intangible benefits are enormous.
- It’s hard to say exactly what our economic future would look like outside the EU, but everyone says that it would be bad in the short term, and that “short term” could be seven years or more.
- Immigration is of course part of the debate. But only a part of it, and one that is intrinsically bound up with economics. There are as many Brits in the EU as there are EU citizens in the UK. And those that are here are contributing. Leaving the EU would not address the concerns that many people have about immigration, valid or otherwise.
After thinking about all of those things, I vote to Remain. I vote Remain for many more reasons, as I’ve written about before – because I want my country to be at the top table internationally; because 70 years of unbroken peace didn’t happen by accident; because I’m proud of a Union that makes our environment healthier and our working lives safer – but I don’t want to pretend that it’s an easy decision for anyone. It’s hard. The implications are massive. It deserves thinking about.
And it’s in that spirit that I hope, in some small way, for at least one person, all of the above helps them when they’re considering which box to cross on 23rd June.
Everything is not in its right place
If international tax evaders were a band, they would be Radiohead.
Bear with me.
In many ways, 2014’s ‘Lux Leaks’ – the scandal which broke when a whistleblower from PricewaterhouseCoopers published thousands of documents showing some pretty shady tax deals were to be had in the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg – was the super-rich equivalent of Pablo Honey.
It was a solid debut, no doubt. It contained some absolute gems – the hyper-complicated financial equivalent of ‘Creep’ or ‘Anyone Can Play Guitar’ – but you couldn’t help but feeling that we hadn’t really seen their full potential. It was big, but was it big enough? There was a real risk that everyone might nod approvingly, think about it for a while, and then forget.
And then, earlier this month, came ‘Panama Papers’ – the smash follow-up that not even the biggest fans of morally bankrupt tax fiddling could have foreseen. The scale! The ambition! Over 11 million documents stemming from one single law firm, and dragging in everyone from the Icelandic Prime Minister to our own David Cameron. Here, without doubt, was the fiscally dubious counterpart to The Bends.
It’s hard to classify the Panama Papers phenomenon. What word should you use to describe something breathtaking in its shock factor and yet heartbreakingly, crushingly predictable at the same time? How can you quantify something so enormous as tax avoidance on that scale? So brazen that it is able to hide in plain sight?
There is one statistic in particular that brings it home to me, and that’s the fact that 60% of all international trade is intragroup – that’s to say it is conducted between two branches of the same company, rather than between two independent companies.
That means that nearly two-thirds of all transactions that take place anywhere in the world basically have to be taken on trust. How can you know that MegaCorp Sweden is selling widgets to MegaCorp St Lucia at a fair price if the whole thing is taking place within one giant company and with no external competition?
The fact is that you can’t. And so companies take advantage of the fact that national governments have so far been really, really bad at working together on this stuff. MegaCorp Sweden will find out that the tax rate there is a lot higher than in St Lucia. They’ll get the St Lucia branch to lend millions of dollars to the Sweden branch, loading the Swedish branch with debt so that it looks like it doesn’t turn a profit. Voila! No more tax paid in Sweden.
This is happening all over the world, right now, and in much more complicated and egregious ways than that. And it would take a special kind of narrow-minded nationalist to think that one country – even one as influential as Britain – could act alone to stop it from happening.
Tax evasion and aggressive tax avoidance thrive when countries refuse to work together. This is something that the European Union understands and is trying – slowly at times for sure, but certainly – to fix.
The EU has introduced new rules to limit the kind of sweetheart deals that we saw in Lux Leaks. Last week, it announced new plans to make multinational companies report publicly exactly where they make their profits and where they pay their taxes. Hard to believe that anyone could object to a principle that simple, and yet some businesses do – but they then come up against the combined will of 28 countries representing 500 million consumers between them, and they start to back down.
The UK would be walking away from all of this if we were to leave the EU. Tax avoidance – and the outrageous, growing injustice it serves to embed in our societies – is one of the major issues the world faces today, alongside other cross-border challenges like climate change, terrorism and mass migration. None of these things can be solved by acting alone.
If the UK voluntarily left the world’s largest and longest-standing attempt for countries to work meaningfully together, the people celebrating will be those whose money is sitting in Panama when it should be paying for British schools and hospitals and easing the burden on the rest of us. Because there would now be that bit less cooperation in the world – meaning a few more opportunities to make some money in the cracks that would inevitably appear as a result.
Which is where, circuitously, I come back to Radiohead.
Panama Papers is where I want the comparison to end. Because two years after The Bends, Radiohead released OK Computer – arguably the greatest album of the 1990s. And that’s what, stretching my analogy to breaking point, will happen with tax avoidance if we don’t work together. If countries like the UK, as part of alliances like the EU, don’t step up to the plate then the next round of tax avoidance schemes will be on a scale and of an audacity we can’t even imagine. I’m not prepared to let that happen.
In summary? This is no time to start playing Brexit music.
What I did on my holidays
One of the hardest tasks faced by the ‘Remain’ campaign in the forthcoming European referendum is trying to communicate all those ways in which our membership of the EU makes things better and easier, but which have been part of our daily lives for such a long time that we risk taking them for granted.
I’m going to give this a go – in the manner of a primary school student coming back after a break – by telling you about what I got up to on my holidays.
Last week, my wife and I went to Scotland for a wonderful, relaxing Easter break. My Facebook friends can attest to the smugness of the photos that followed. What is less hard to spot or quantify is how much of our holiday was affected by the UK’s EU membership. Sounds a bit tenuous? Stay with me.
Let’s start with the fact that we are both British citizens working in Belgium. That alone is to do with our EU membership – as UK citizens, we have the right to work in any of the other 27 Member States.
We are then free to travel around the European Union on holiday, needing nothing more than our passports and tickets. It’s easy to forget that things aren’t always that simple. Travel somewhere outside the EU and you’ll often have to apply (and pay) for a visa several weeks in advance.
Then there’s the fact that, for the week that we were on holiday, both of us continued to get paid by our respective employers. You probably also get paid leave, and would expect to be entitled to it as part of your job’s terms and conditions. But you might not know that the right to that paid leave stems from the EU: it’s the Working Time Directive that guarantees 20 days of paid holiday a year, and that made millions of British workers’ lives better when it was introduced in 1993.
For our holiday, my wife and I were originally going to fly to Edinburgh. After all, the flights were pretty reasonably priced – no doubt in part thanks to the EU having put an end to the days where only certain airlines were allowed to fly to certain countries, meaning they could charge whatever they wanted.
In the end, our flights were cancelled, so we switched to travelling by train. We were entitled to a full refund of the cancelled flight. Again, this isn’t in UK law – it’s in an EU Regulation which guarantees compensation and assistance to people whose flights are cancelled or delayed for a long period of time.
We stayed in Edinburgh for two nights, before going up to the Highlands, where we stayed in the breathtakingly beautiful Glen Affric just west of Loch Ness. It’s hard to think of a better place to get away from everything – stunning, remote, untouched wilderness. And the reason that it’s untouched is because it is a ‘Special Protection Area’, as designated by – yep, you guessed it – the EU. Glen Affric looks as beautiful as it does because the Habitats Directive and the Birds Directive say it has to.
None of this may seem like much on its own, and most of it would pass you by if you didn’t know to look for it.
But now try to imagine a Europe in which my wife and I found it much harder to work overseas in the first place; where if we wanted to take off a week of holiday we had to do it without being paid; where we had to fork out money and time to get a visa to go to a neighbouring country; where we lost a load more money on an expensive flight which was then cancelled with no prospect of a refund; and where when we finally got to our beautiful rural retreat the whole thing had been so overdeveloped that all that lovely wildlife had long since departed.
That may all sound quite apocalyptic, but it’s EU membership that guarantees all of those things. In a country that’s been a member since 1975, there are many of us who have never known a life outside the EU. But just because that membership is sometimes invisible to us, don’t think that it isn’t there – making life a little better, and a little easier, in thousands of imperceptible ways.
Land, air and sea – we’re better off in the EU
I was blessed to grow up in Shropshire. I may not always have thought it was a blessing – when you’re a teenager and what you want most in the world is access to all the temptations a giant city has to offer, then a rural idyll tucked along the Welsh border is not necessarily your first choice But now, every time I go back to visit my parents there, I think again what a wonderful place it is. If you’ve never been, picture the opening scenes of Lord of the Rings. It’s that beautiful. I am completely smitten.
Nearby are the striking mountains of Snowdonia, where I went on adventurous school trips and where my wife and I went walking last year, and across the county border in Staffordshire is the vast expanse of Cannock Chase, where I broke my arm when I was six (although I don’t hold that against the park).
I mention these places because they are all, rightly, protected for us and for future generations. But that protection doesn’t come from national law – it comes from the EU’s Nature Directives, bold and far-reaching legislation aimed at protecting our vital wildlife. Before those European laws were introduced, the UK was losing 15% of its protected sites every year. That figure is now down to just below 1%. And if you think that a Tory government outside the EU would still protect the countryside in this way, then it’s worth remembering that George Osborne described these protections as “placing ridiculous costs on British businesses” (a claim his own government discovered to be unfounded).
Some of the most beautiful, quintessentially British areas of the countryside – Snowdonia, Cannock Chase, Dartmoor and many more – therefore owe their status to our membership of the EU.
And it’s not just on land that we have reason to be grateful for being part of the Union. The air we breathe is going to get cleaner too. This isn’t just a nice-sounding thing to have. Every year, over 23,000 people die sooner than they should have done because of unacceptably high levels of nitrous oxide in the air. That’s appalling – and unsurprisingly, the nitrous oxide itself doesn’t really care whether the air it’s polluting is over the territory of the UK, or France, or anywhere else.
If we want cleaner air, then we need to act together – and the EU has introduced new legislation requiring just that. Labour MEPs like my boss, Anneliese Dodds, and Seb Dance are campaigning to make sure these new laws are now properly enforced.
The quality of air isn’t only important for us. As the RSPB has pointed out, there is categorical evidence that endangered species of birds, singled out for protection by the EU, are faring much, much better than they would be if those laws were not in place. It is undeniable that EU laws, while they can no doubt be improved and better enforced, are working to protect wildlife.
Lastly, British beaches and seas are in a better state because the UK is a member of the EU. The EU has introduced something called the Bathing Water Directive. OK, it sounds like a typically dull Brussels initiative. But it has resulted in 99% of all bathing waters around the UK coast meeting minimum standards for water quality. That’s up from a frankly hideous 27% in 1990. I was eight in 1990, and spent a significant part of my summer holidays swimming in the Channel. I shudder to think about quite what I might have been swimming alongside.
With this level of European level protection – and with a Conservative administration at home whose days of hugging huskies and promising to be the ‘greenest government ever’ are well behind them – it’s little wonder that environmental charities like the RSPB and Friends of the Earth, and respected publications like Nature magazine, are all queuing up to argue that we should stay in the European Union.
So however you are about to spend your Easter holidays – be it climbing mountains, walking through green pastures, braving a first dip in the sea, or just breathing in air that you hope isn’t going to shorten your life in any way – it will be a more pleasant experience because we are a member of the EU.
The patriotic choice is to vote to stay in the EU
Should we remain in the European Union, or leave? It’s a question that’s going to get asked a lot in the next few months and – assuming you have registered to vote in advance – it will be one staring up at you from the ballot paper on Thursday 23 June.
It might well be a question you’re thoroughly sick of hearing by the time that day comes round, but it’s no less important for that. In fact, the amount of media coverage that is going to be given to the debate, the increasing passion of each side’s arguments, and their relentless determination to secure your vote, are all reflective of the fact that this is the biggest political decision of our generation.
In between now and the vote, I’m going to try and set out a range of different arguments for why I think we should stay in the EU. If you’re unsure at all about how to vote, then I’d urge you to read what you can about it and to hear the points of view of both sides. I will only be putting forward the case for staying in – but there will be plenty of opportunities to read the arguments for and against.
For me, the overwhelming case for staying in is in the answer to a different, but related question: what kind of country do we want to be?
The world has rarely been more dangerous, more unstable and more uncertain than it is right now. We’re seeing a shift in geopolitical power the likes of which hasn’t happened for nearly thirty years. We’re seeing economic woes and the subsequent rise of far-right nationalism with horrible echoes of the 1930s. And we’re seeing environmental challenges that are unprecedented.
There is an argument that, in the face of such turbulence and uncertainty, the best thing to do is hunker down within our borders; look inward; care for our own and let everyone else do the same. If the world outside is dangerous and scary, build a great big wall and shut it out. It’s an argument that’s got a lot of traction in places like Hungary. Donald Trump is building a terrifying election campaign on the back of it.
It’s an appealing argument in dark times. But it’s the wrong one, and certainly not one befitting of the UK.
On the contrary: there has never been a more important time for us to be an outward-looking, alliance-building, progressive country. The biggest challenges of our time – from terrorism to climate change, from the billions of pounds lost to tax avoidance to the millions of jobs at risk due to technological change – do not respect national borders. If we are to rise to those challenges, then we have to reach out to our neighbours and friends and work with them.
It is hard to think of a better example of that kind of constructive, cross-border working than the European Union.
Within the 28 Member States of the EU are countries that in the past have fought one another, conquered one another and tried to wipe one another off the map for good. In different times, faced with problems arguably less challenging than those we face right now, those countries have reached for their arms without blinking. I don’t have to look too far for the evidence of the what happens next: I live 10 miles from Waterloo, 80 miles from Ypres and 100 miles from Bastogne.
Today, the leaders of those same countries sit around a table and talk to one another. They argue things out. They debate, they negotiate, they frustrate one another… and then they compromise. As a result, we are living through the longest period of peace that Western Europe has known for centuries. It is an extraordinary achievement, and one those of us born in the last 50 years take completely for granted.
If there is going to be a group of countries that get together, and work with one another for the greater good – a union of nations that looks at the challenges we face and decides that the only way to rise to them is to pool their efforts and work together – then I want my country to be part of it. I’m incredibly proud to be British, precisely because it is part of the EU.
There are of course lots of other reasons for voting to remain part of the EU – because it is better for our economy, for the environment, for workers’ rights – and I’ll touch on each of those in upcoming blogs. But for me, the overriding reason will always be what our membership of the EU says about us as a country: that we believe the world can be better than it is, and that we want to be part of making it so.
Come together
In 2007, Tony Blair gave a speech at Blenheim Palace in which he claimed that “the real dividing line to think of in modern politics has less to do with traditional positions of right versus left, more to do today, with what I would call the modern choice, which is open versus closed”.
On the face of it, this sounds quite neat and obvious, and you can see what Blair meant. He was saying – with some justification – that the forces of conservatism in the early twenty-first century seek to defend people from the winds of globalisation, and retreat to a national or domestic comfort zone, while the forces of progressivism embrace the opportunities of an interconnected world and the cultural and economic benefits they can bring.
But it’s also easy to see how this rather neat way of separating the world into two camps was ultimately storing up trouble for the future. Telling people that their justifiable concerns about a rapidly changing world are due to them being closed-off, or narrow-minded, is at best patronising and at worst deeply alienating. There are reasons to worry about globalisation. Technological change means people’s jobs require a whole new set of skills or, worse, are rendered obsolete altogether. The life of a town or village will inevitably change if new people arrive there from different countries, with different cultural backgrounds and often speaking different languages. These changes are not inherently bad – in fact I would argue that in the long run they are largely positive – but you cannot just tell people that they are not allowed to be bothered by them.
Nowhere is this more obvious than when it comes to immigration. New Labour welcomed, and trumpeted, Britain’s growth into an open, multicultural society. This is good and should be applauded. But, by using Blair’s “open versus closed” way of looking at the world, it did so in a way that told a lot of people who were less sure about the pace of change that they were bigoted or wrong. The New Labour rhetoric closed out the space in which people could honestly say that they were uncomfortable with what was happening. They never got to air their concerns, and so those concerns never got heard or taken seriously.
Instead of allaying people’s fears, we ignored them. Which meant that it was only a matter of time before someone like Nigel Farage came along and played upon those fears instead.
Tony Blair was right that “left versus right” is no longer a useful way of looking at the political landscape. But “open versus closed” is not particularly helpful either. And yet the fact remains that, like it or not, we do need dividing lines in politics. We need to know how one party differs from another; how each side defines itself against the other.
And so I would suggest a new way of setting out the choice: between the politics of the individual and the politics of the community.
Ever since Thatcher, the Conservatives have successfully painted themselves as the party of the individual, in ways that make this seem sensible and appealing. They want to help people help themselves; they are for the entrepreneurs, for the people who “pull themselves up by their bootstraps”. They want government to be about getting out of your way and letting you get on with your life.
The reason this all sounds so attractive is because the Tories not only picked their own side, but they also chose Labour’s terms for them. So in the Conservative narrative the opposite to “the individual” becomes “the state” – great, clunking institutional structures that want to force everyone into uninspiring mediocrity and to tell them in precise terms how they should live, right down to what they should eat and how much (or how little) they should earn.
This is a reductive, simplistic and wholly unfair representation of what social democracy is all about. But it has too often gone unchallenged and so it has stuck. Voters think that the Tories trust them to get on with things, and that Labour does not. This is wrong, and dangerous, and we have to fight back against it.
Because we are now seeing what having “the party of the individual” in power can mean for a country. It means a lowest common denominator approach to politics in which as long as you individually are OK then it doesn’t matter much about anyone else. It means policies designed to turn sections of society against one another, to determine who is “deserving” and who isn’t. It means telling people that their neighbours are a burden, and that other people’s misfortunes are their own fault.
The answer to that is not to fight back by being the party of the state. It is to fight back by being the party of the community.
I do not believe that people are fundamentally selfish, or narrow-minded, or that what they want most of all is to be left alone. I think people find their greatest happiness in their friends, their families, their neighbours and their colleagues – and that what they want most of all is for those people to be OK. They want their children to do well at school. They want their parents to be looked after in their old age. They want their friends to have good jobs, and their colleagues to be well looked after in the ones they have.
All of this is not just compatible with progressive politics; it is what lies at their very heart. Because following the Tories’ individualistic approach to its logical extreme doesn’t empower people; it alienates them. It turns them against one another and actually diffuses power. It means that a country’s whole can never be more than the sum of its parts.
But the way of dealing with that is not to pull all the way back from the level of the individual to the level of the entire nation and then try to impose a one-size-fits-all Soviet approach to making the country run. It means coming back up just one or two levels – to the family unit, to the group of friends and neighbours, to the village or town or city. Because it is at that level that people can work together, collaborate and cooperate while still retaining a sense of control and choice. It is at that level that most people think when they define themselves as being part of a community. And it is also at that level, back at the end of the nineteenth century, that the Labour party first emerged – congregations of people being brought together in urban centres for the first time and realising that they were more powerful when they acted together.
That would be my pitch for a new way of looking at the world as the Labour party struggles to find its place in it. Let the Tories be the party of the individual. We will be the party of the community – whether that is on the grandest possible scale, arguing for a truly United Kingdom to keep playing its role in a European Union of peaceful, like-minded countries; or whether it is down at the level of a family and their friends in a small town, all working together to make their lives that bit better.
the unfinished article 
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