The Conservative Party has recently won considerable publicity by renewing a pledge to allow workers' co-operatives to own and run public services.In so doing, the party has been accused of 'stealing political clothes that will never fit them'. Co-operatives, it is alleged, are an intrinsically left-wing concept and will never be natural Conservative terrain - despite claims to the contrary by Jesse Norman, founder of the Conservative Co-operative Movement, and Phillip Blond, the 'Red Tory'.
But this is not the first time that Conservatives have entertained the idea of working with co-operatives, and certainly not the first time they have endorsed the notion that employees should have a stake in the ownership and/or the management of their workplaces. That idea dates back to the 1920s, when such schemes were proposed by the Conservative MP Noel Skelton as the solution to a 'lop-sided' distribution of property.
Skelton - whose writing has been an acknowledged influence on Blond - observed that the reforms of the nineteenth-century had left the 'working people' with their political rights and educational status much enhanced, but their economic status unaltered. For Skelton, this 'imbalance' accounted for much of the social and industrial unrest of the interwar period - not to mention the rise of the Labour Party - and a vast extension of property-ownership was required if British society was to be restored to equilibrium. His preferred means was the introduction of industrial co-partnership schemes, which would give ordinary working people a shareholding in the company for which they worked (including a portion of the profits and the possibility of seats on the board). This platform offered the Conservative Party 'the ideal ground on which to fight Socialism'. And Skelton even had a name for the type of society which would emerge as more and more working men became owners - he called it the 'property-owning democracy'.
The Conservative Party displayed little initial enthusiasm for co-partnership, but the principle of extending ownership (and particularly the idea of the 'property-owning democracy') was seized upon as a powerful political weapon. In reviving the concept at the 1946 Conservative Party conference, Anthony Eden noted that the extension of private property ownership offered a 'constructive alternative' to the policy of nationalisation pursued by the Labour government. By the 1950s, however, the focus had shifted away from industrial capital to housing. Although the Conservative Party was still committed to wider distribution of property, it had now come to the conclusion that, in the words of Minister for Housing Harold Macmillan, 'of all forms of property suitable for such distribution, house property is one of the best'. The party was also no doubt aware that homeowners were more likely to vote Conservative than private renters or council tenants.
Although housing continued to play a role in Conservative attempts to create a 'property-owning democracy', under Margaret Thatcher's leadership the party rediscovered an interest in the ownership of industry. By making shares in newly privatised industries available to the general public, the Thatcher administrations hoped to create a 'capital-owning democracy' in which ordinary people would become shareholders feel a 'heightened sense of pride in British business'. Together, the privatisation campaign and the 'Right to Buy' formed the centrepiece of a strategy to extend property-ownership to all levels of British society - a goal which Mrs Thatcher referred to as 'the great Tory reform of [the] century', and which the plans for a 'peoples' bank bonus' suggests is still a Conservative objective.
Plans to allow workers' co-operatives to own and run public services are merely the latest manifestation of this longstanding theme in Conservative ideology - a fact implicitly acknowledged by George Osborne when he compared the proposals to the sale of council houses. And by offering public sector workers the opportunity to own and run the services which they provide, David Cameron could arguably come closer than any previous Conservative leader to fulfilling Skelton's vision.
However these proposals have not descended directly from Skelton, but rather draw on numerous Conservatisms - including Thatcherism. Although Cameron and Osborne have been careful to sell the policy as 'progressive', the detail of the proposals - from the Conservative Party, and from think-tanks ResPublica and The Innovation Unit - has been couched in the vocabulary of the market. They have relied on many of the same justifications as the privatisations of the 1980s - efficiency, productivity, and the needs of the 'service user'. The plans also allow considerable room for private sector involvement - either in managing the co-operatives or as partners in a 'joint venture'.
Warnings that we should be careful to 'count the spoons' are, therefore, entirely justified. Although these plans have been sold - and so far bought - as 'progressive', they are far from unambiguous. Co-operatives may mean more independence for our public servants - or they may represent a form of back-door privatisation. Are these just warm words from a Cameron still trying to appeal beyond his party's natural constituency? Time will tell.
Matthew Francis, PhD student in the School of Politics and International Relations
Friday 26 February 2010
Saturday 20 February 2010
On expenses - interview with writer Tony Saint
The MPs’ expenses ‘scandal’ of 2009 created an unprecedented moral panic about the shortcomings of our political representatives. However, while some MPs had clearly taken advantage of a flawed claims system, the public’s reaction owed its origins to a wider mistrust of how we are governed.
The lack of ‘trust’ in those we elect to represent us is a problem about which academics have been aware for some time. It is nonetheless one that most MPs and in particular Speaker Michael Martin were unwilling to confront. Indeed as Tony Saint’s BBC4 comedy-drama On Expenses accurately shows, Martin obstructed efforts to expose abuses.
Martin thought that the interests of MPs – and of Parliamentary democracy as a whole - were best served by keeping things in the dark. Of course, it was the attempted cover-up as much as the inflated claims of too many MPs that did for Martin and exposed all Parliamentarians – the guilty as well as the innocent – to public fury. The consequences have yet to be played out – the BNP, UKIP and Esther Rantzen all hope to do well at the forthcoming general election by exploiting the issue. While the actions of politicians are rightly seen as fostering the public’s lack of trust in representative politics another is the generally negative portrayal of MPs in television fiction, which helps predispose voters to thinking ill of those who inhabit the Westminster village. Alan B’Stard (the New Statesman), Francis Urquhart (The House of Cards) and Jim Hacker (Yes Minister) and their more recent successors all exemplify politics as the pursuit of power by men whose selfishness is only exceeded by their incompetence and lack of regard for those who elected them. It will be interesting to see how far Tony Saint’s dramatisation confirms this general pattern.
Professor Steven Fielding
The lack of ‘trust’ in those we elect to represent us is a problem about which academics have been aware for some time. It is nonetheless one that most MPs and in particular Speaker Michael Martin were unwilling to confront. Indeed as Tony Saint’s BBC4 comedy-drama On Expenses accurately shows, Martin obstructed efforts to expose abuses.
Martin thought that the interests of MPs – and of Parliamentary democracy as a whole - were best served by keeping things in the dark. Of course, it was the attempted cover-up as much as the inflated claims of too many MPs that did for Martin and exposed all Parliamentarians – the guilty as well as the innocent – to public fury. The consequences have yet to be played out – the BNP, UKIP and Esther Rantzen all hope to do well at the forthcoming general election by exploiting the issue. While the actions of politicians are rightly seen as fostering the public’s lack of trust in representative politics another is the generally negative portrayal of MPs in television fiction, which helps predispose voters to thinking ill of those who inhabit the Westminster village. Alan B’Stard (the New Statesman), Francis Urquhart (The House of Cards) and Jim Hacker (Yes Minister) and their more recent successors all exemplify politics as the pursuit of power by men whose selfishness is only exceeded by their incompetence and lack of regard for those who elected them. It will be interesting to see how far Tony Saint’s dramatisation confirms this general pattern.
Professor Steven Fielding
Tuesday 16 February 2010
What this election means for the far right
One story at the forthcoming general election will be the performance of the far right, specifically the BNP. Following gains in local elections, the Greater London Assembly (GLA) and the European elections, all eyes will focus on Barking where the not-so-charismatic BNP leader Nick Griffin will attempt to achieve something hitherto unknown on the British far right: representation in the House of Commons.
In fact, if Griffin’s BNP is determined to outperform its predecessors then all it has to do is finish second in any constituency, something that neither the BNP nor its parent party the 1970s National Front (NF) has ever done. In an attempt to do this, the BNP will continue to employ more targeted and professional electoral campaigns, focusing its resources in particular on seats like Barking, Burnley, Dagenham and constituencies in Stoke. The party is unlikely to repeat the mistake of the National Front in 1979 which fielded some 300 candidates and found itself stretched (in fact, Griffin was active at this time and is keenly aware of the importance of a Liberal Democrat-style target strategy). In areas like those above, the BNP aims to yield dividends from its ‘ladder strategy’ through which local elections have been used to build credibility from the ground up. But what are the prospects of the BNP building on its success last June?
Several factors are working in the party’s favour. First, the BNP is now firmly a household name, particularly after 8 million viewers tuned in to watch Griffin on Question Time. At the last election, some voters outside of the core BNP areas may have been unfamiliar with Griffin’s BNP; by the time of this election few voters will have escaped the party’s leaflets, its professional website and its increasingly active membership.
Second, the issues that are key for the far right remain highly salient. In our study we find that BNP voters are overwhelmingly concerned with immigration, and express high levels of dissatisfaction with the political system. In another study we find that around one fifth of the population are supportive of policies and positions that are advocated by the party. These concerns over immigration and the response of mainstream elites to this issue will remain, and since the last general election have been fuelled further by the expenses scandal. Put simply, the BNP will continue to operate amidst a favourable climate for a party that attacks ‘the establishment’ and adopts a hostile stance toward immigration.
Third, a growth of BNP membership to around the 14,000 mark means that the party should have more foot soldiers at its disposal, and it’s worked hard in recent years to turn passive armchair members into activists who knock on doors. Importantly, this shift toward intensive campaigning has taken place as mainstream parties have withdrawn from traditional methods, especially in areas that have historically been dominated by one party.
Fourth, since 2005 there has occurred a growth of far right activity beyond the BNP, with groups like England First and the English Defense League (EDL) mobilizing anti-immigrant and anti-Muslim sentiment. While these groups oppose the ‘soft’ BNP, they have indirectly facilitated its rise by fuelling anxiety among certain social groups over immigration and – more specifically – the place of Muslims and Islam in wider society.
However, for the same reasons a BNP breakthrough looks unlikely. First, yes the BNP is now a household name but few voters were won over by Griffin’s performance on Question Time. While commentators jumped on polls claiming that around one fifth of voters might consider voting BNP, in fact only around 4% of voters said they would “definitely” consider doing so. Griffin and the BNP’s core voters who have walked across the electoral desert may hail the performance as a resounding success, but the voters he needs to win over did not.
Second, it is true that the salience of immigration and political protest remains high, and this combination will ensure that the BNP does not experience a marked drop of support. However, other parties that are free of the BNP’s extremist baggage are better placed to exploit these changing winds. With a new leader and an image of electoral credibility, the UK Independence Party (UKIP) may well hoover up much of the anti-immigrant hostility and political protest (so long as it can mobilize its grassroots). UKIP’s recent statements on Muslims and Islam are telling, and suggest that the BNP faces new competition for its vote.
Third, the BNP now has more members (roughly the same as the NF in its heyday in the 1970s), but many of its most active members are dissatisfied with the party’s membership changes that signal an end to its ‘whites-only’ set up. Rumours of BNP branches switching allegiance to rival far right parties swirl around the Internet, and unless Griffin achieves some notable victories he will find it difficult to avoid a potentially damaging internal schism. A second place finish or a breakthrough is critically important for Griffin’s leadership and the future of the BNP. As noted above, there are more groups than ever waiting in the wings to recruit disillusioned BNP activists.
All in all, then, the BNP finds itself at a crossroads and the direction it takes will be shaped strongly by its performance in this election.
Dr Matthew Goodwin
Research website: http://www.matthewgoodwin.co.uk/
In fact, if Griffin’s BNP is determined to outperform its predecessors then all it has to do is finish second in any constituency, something that neither the BNP nor its parent party the 1970s National Front (NF) has ever done. In an attempt to do this, the BNP will continue to employ more targeted and professional electoral campaigns, focusing its resources in particular on seats like Barking, Burnley, Dagenham and constituencies in Stoke. The party is unlikely to repeat the mistake of the National Front in 1979 which fielded some 300 candidates and found itself stretched (in fact, Griffin was active at this time and is keenly aware of the importance of a Liberal Democrat-style target strategy). In areas like those above, the BNP aims to yield dividends from its ‘ladder strategy’ through which local elections have been used to build credibility from the ground up. But what are the prospects of the BNP building on its success last June?
Several factors are working in the party’s favour. First, the BNP is now firmly a household name, particularly after 8 million viewers tuned in to watch Griffin on Question Time. At the last election, some voters outside of the core BNP areas may have been unfamiliar with Griffin’s BNP; by the time of this election few voters will have escaped the party’s leaflets, its professional website and its increasingly active membership.
Second, the issues that are key for the far right remain highly salient. In our study we find that BNP voters are overwhelmingly concerned with immigration, and express high levels of dissatisfaction with the political system. In another study we find that around one fifth of the population are supportive of policies and positions that are advocated by the party. These concerns over immigration and the response of mainstream elites to this issue will remain, and since the last general election have been fuelled further by the expenses scandal. Put simply, the BNP will continue to operate amidst a favourable climate for a party that attacks ‘the establishment’ and adopts a hostile stance toward immigration.
Third, a growth of BNP membership to around the 14,000 mark means that the party should have more foot soldiers at its disposal, and it’s worked hard in recent years to turn passive armchair members into activists who knock on doors. Importantly, this shift toward intensive campaigning has taken place as mainstream parties have withdrawn from traditional methods, especially in areas that have historically been dominated by one party.
Fourth, since 2005 there has occurred a growth of far right activity beyond the BNP, with groups like England First and the English Defense League (EDL) mobilizing anti-immigrant and anti-Muslim sentiment. While these groups oppose the ‘soft’ BNP, they have indirectly facilitated its rise by fuelling anxiety among certain social groups over immigration and – more specifically – the place of Muslims and Islam in wider society.
However, for the same reasons a BNP breakthrough looks unlikely. First, yes the BNP is now a household name but few voters were won over by Griffin’s performance on Question Time. While commentators jumped on polls claiming that around one fifth of voters might consider voting BNP, in fact only around 4% of voters said they would “definitely” consider doing so. Griffin and the BNP’s core voters who have walked across the electoral desert may hail the performance as a resounding success, but the voters he needs to win over did not.
Second, it is true that the salience of immigration and political protest remains high, and this combination will ensure that the BNP does not experience a marked drop of support. However, other parties that are free of the BNP’s extremist baggage are better placed to exploit these changing winds. With a new leader and an image of electoral credibility, the UK Independence Party (UKIP) may well hoover up much of the anti-immigrant hostility and political protest (so long as it can mobilize its grassroots). UKIP’s recent statements on Muslims and Islam are telling, and suggest that the BNP faces new competition for its vote.
Third, the BNP now has more members (roughly the same as the NF in its heyday in the 1970s), but many of its most active members are dissatisfied with the party’s membership changes that signal an end to its ‘whites-only’ set up. Rumours of BNP branches switching allegiance to rival far right parties swirl around the Internet, and unless Griffin achieves some notable victories he will find it difficult to avoid a potentially damaging internal schism. A second place finish or a breakthrough is critically important for Griffin’s leadership and the future of the BNP. As noted above, there are more groups than ever waiting in the wings to recruit disillusioned BNP activists.
All in all, then, the BNP finds itself at a crossroads and the direction it takes will be shaped strongly by its performance in this election.
Dr Matthew Goodwin
Research website: http://www.matthewgoodwin.co.uk/
Posters in history
Why does a huge image of David Cameron dominate the Conservative's new election poster? Is it because, with his shirt-unbuttoned, this Man of Action is telling us that he personally will crack the deficit problem? Or is this just another example of Cameron aping the former Labour leader Tony Blair, another instance in which he wants to be the heir to Blair and continue his supposedly presidential style of politics? Or is this style of leadership marketing part of a longer, political tradition?
Those who have analysed this poster campaign claim it echoes New Labour's 1997 marketing, when a youthful Tony Blair fronted the party's election material, marking his supposedly presidential style of politics. But presenting party leaders as 'presidential' is not new. The poster of Cameron is as comparable with 1929 depictions of Conservative leader Stanley Baldwin, as it is of the more recent Labour propaganda featuring Tony Blair. Therefore, while there are plenty of similarities with Labour's 1997 campaign, to get at the fuller significance of Cameron's new poster we need to go much further back in political history.
As long ago as the election of 1929 the Conservatives produced overtly 'presidential' posters. S.H. Benson, a high profile advertising agency, was employed by the Conservatives to produce election material for the party. The Conservative leader, Stanley Baldwin, was frequently at the fore front of this campaign. One poster showed a austere photograph of Baldwin under the Tories election slogan 'Safety First', with a caption at the bottom that read 'Stanley Baldwin the Man You Can Trust!'.
The parallels between the Conservative posters of 1929 and 2010 are startling. Both men project an aura of seriousness, attempting to persuade the voter that only they have the necessary gravitas to lead the country. Both posters are about one man, the leader: Cameron like Blair is just one of a very long line of 'presidential' leaders. In both posters the party is notably absent - knowing how low in public esteem they are held, parties are often all too happy to hide behind what they hope will be the winning personality of their leader. The 1929 poster does not even mention the Conservative Party at all. In 2010 the tree logo is strikingly absent, with only the election slogan 'year for change' and website details visible.
Political posters that feature the leader are all about exploiting or trying to establish trust between the leader and those they hope will vote for their party. They are an attempt to prove to the public that the United Kingdom is safe in their hands. In another 1929 poster, Baldwin is seen steering a ship through a storm with the slogan 'Trust Baldwin he will steer you to safety!'. The trust demanded by Cameron is less implicit but still evident, trust him to 'cut the deficit, not the NHS.'
Baldwin's image, the one on which he pitched his bid for the people's trust, was based on his personal uprightness. His public school and Oxbridge education is the same as Cameron's, yet the way they appealed for the public's trust is subtly different and indicates how much politics has changed in the intervening decades. While Baldwin was presented as an upright and even uptight statesmen, in stiff collar and tie, Cameron is presented as being more open and relaxed - like Blair c. 1997 (who himself aped Robert Kennedy c.1968). This is because Cameron wants to be a seen as a man of the people, 'one of us' whereas Baldwin came from an era in which the political class could rely on a degree of deference and were often expected to show their superiority.
Cameron is not the first party leader to use posters to convey their common touch. Nor was Blair. In the 1929 election, the Labour leader James Ramsay MacDonald was depicted with a girl dressed as a modish flapper. The passing of the Equal Representation Act in 1928 had given the vote to all women over the age of 21 and politicians were keen to attract the new voters. Thus MacDonald was depicted as the modern man, unlike his stuffy counterpart Baldwin. Significantly, it is claimed that one of Gordon Brown's presentational weaknesses is his apparent inability to relax, that he seems to have been born in a suit; he must hark back to the days of Baldwin with some nostalgia.
It was, however, in the 1960s when posters were most explicitly used to highlight a leader's empathy with the 'common people'. In the run up to the 1964 election Harold Wilson was depicted in a poster titled 'People Matter'. He was pictured in an ordinary street, shaking hands with 'his' people. The pipe which became Wilson's trademark was a further sign of his normality - although in private he favoured the more plutocratic cigar. Gordon Reece famously re-branded Mrs Thatcher prior to the 1979 election, making her lose 'those hats' and lower her voice to seem less hostile. But it should not be forgotten that the brilliant economist and political loner, Wilson, underwent a similar transformation to become the pipe-smoking, HP Sauce-loving, mac-wearing cheeky-chappy depicted in Labour propaganda.
The new Conservative Party poster, which depicts a presidential Cameron, ready for action to cut the deficit and protect our NHS, is a construct of public relations and advertising. In this respect he is not just like Tony Blair, but also all of his predecessors, arguably all the way back to Gladstone and beyond. Politicians and political parties are in the game of selling themselves, but in the 'science' of twenty-first century politics this is just more overt. When a politician claims that they are un-spun, this is when they are at their most spun.
Christopher Burgess, PhD student
Those who have analysed this poster campaign claim it echoes New Labour's 1997 marketing, when a youthful Tony Blair fronted the party's election material, marking his supposedly presidential style of politics. But presenting party leaders as 'presidential' is not new. The poster of Cameron is as comparable with 1929 depictions of Conservative leader Stanley Baldwin, as it is of the more recent Labour propaganda featuring Tony Blair. Therefore, while there are plenty of similarities with Labour's 1997 campaign, to get at the fuller significance of Cameron's new poster we need to go much further back in political history.
As long ago as the election of 1929 the Conservatives produced overtly 'presidential' posters. S.H. Benson, a high profile advertising agency, was employed by the Conservatives to produce election material for the party. The Conservative leader, Stanley Baldwin, was frequently at the fore front of this campaign. One poster showed a austere photograph of Baldwin under the Tories election slogan 'Safety First', with a caption at the bottom that read 'Stanley Baldwin the Man You Can Trust!'.
The parallels between the Conservative posters of 1929 and 2010 are startling. Both men project an aura of seriousness, attempting to persuade the voter that only they have the necessary gravitas to lead the country. Both posters are about one man, the leader: Cameron like Blair is just one of a very long line of 'presidential' leaders. In both posters the party is notably absent - knowing how low in public esteem they are held, parties are often all too happy to hide behind what they hope will be the winning personality of their leader. The 1929 poster does not even mention the Conservative Party at all. In 2010 the tree logo is strikingly absent, with only the election slogan 'year for change' and website details visible.
Political posters that feature the leader are all about exploiting or trying to establish trust between the leader and those they hope will vote for their party. They are an attempt to prove to the public that the United Kingdom is safe in their hands. In another 1929 poster, Baldwin is seen steering a ship through a storm with the slogan 'Trust Baldwin he will steer you to safety!'. The trust demanded by Cameron is less implicit but still evident, trust him to 'cut the deficit, not the NHS.'
Baldwin's image, the one on which he pitched his bid for the people's trust, was based on his personal uprightness. His public school and Oxbridge education is the same as Cameron's, yet the way they appealed for the public's trust is subtly different and indicates how much politics has changed in the intervening decades. While Baldwin was presented as an upright and even uptight statesmen, in stiff collar and tie, Cameron is presented as being more open and relaxed - like Blair c. 1997 (who himself aped Robert Kennedy c.1968). This is because Cameron wants to be a seen as a man of the people, 'one of us' whereas Baldwin came from an era in which the political class could rely on a degree of deference and were often expected to show their superiority.
Cameron is not the first party leader to use posters to convey their common touch. Nor was Blair. In the 1929 election, the Labour leader James Ramsay MacDonald was depicted with a girl dressed as a modish flapper. The passing of the Equal Representation Act in 1928 had given the vote to all women over the age of 21 and politicians were keen to attract the new voters. Thus MacDonald was depicted as the modern man, unlike his stuffy counterpart Baldwin. Significantly, it is claimed that one of Gordon Brown's presentational weaknesses is his apparent inability to relax, that he seems to have been born in a suit; he must hark back to the days of Baldwin with some nostalgia.
It was, however, in the 1960s when posters were most explicitly used to highlight a leader's empathy with the 'common people'. In the run up to the 1964 election Harold Wilson was depicted in a poster titled 'People Matter'. He was pictured in an ordinary street, shaking hands with 'his' people. The pipe which became Wilson's trademark was a further sign of his normality - although in private he favoured the more plutocratic cigar. Gordon Reece famously re-branded Mrs Thatcher prior to the 1979 election, making her lose 'those hats' and lower her voice to seem less hostile. But it should not be forgotten that the brilliant economist and political loner, Wilson, underwent a similar transformation to become the pipe-smoking, HP Sauce-loving, mac-wearing cheeky-chappy depicted in Labour propaganda.
The new Conservative Party poster, which depicts a presidential Cameron, ready for action to cut the deficit and protect our NHS, is a construct of public relations and advertising. In this respect he is not just like Tony Blair, but also all of his predecessors, arguably all the way back to Gladstone and beyond. Politicians and political parties are in the game of selling themselves, but in the 'science' of twenty-first century politics this is just more overt. When a politician claims that they are un-spun, this is when they are at their most spun.
Christopher Burgess, PhD student
Tuesday 9 February 2010
New MPs, quiet Parliament?
We’ve been running a project, at Nottingham, looking at backbench dissent for the last seven years. Late last year, it revealed that Labour MPs were on course to be the most rebellious group of parliamentarians in the post-war era (anyone who can’t face the full report can read this summary, from Progress). And, in January, we showed how the Conservatives were much less likely to vote against government legislation than people thought (again, anyone who doesn’t want to read the report can read its coverage in the Times or on ConservativeHome). And occasionally, it’s even benefitted charities, when people are prepared to bet their opinions against our evidence.
The final session of a parliament – as we approach the election – rarely produces much rebellion. MPs tend to keep schtum, for fear of the electoral consequences of division. With the exception of Tuesday’s vote on AV – which will cause a split in the Parliamentary Labour Party – it’s likely that the fag-end of this parliament will be relatively quiet in parliament, and so people are looking ahead, to the situation after the next election.
The biggest change will be the number of new MPs in the Commons, especially on the Conservative side of the House. A Conservative majority government, with a working majority, could see almost two-thirds of Conservative MPs newly elected. In part, this has been caused by the expenses scandal, and the rash of decisions to stand down from the Commons that have followed. But, even before expenses (see this article from January 2009), it was clear that any new Conservative government would have a very high number of new MPs, simply as a result of the huge increase in the number of MPs they require. They currently have fewer than 200; a bare Commons majority after the next election needs 326.
Whilst lots of attention has been on how this is going to be positive for parliament – fresh ideas etc – there are good reasons to be much more sceptical. Our work has consistently found that new MPs are less likely to rebel, and much more likely to do as instructed by the party whips, than are more established MPs. There are lots of reasons for this, but the cause is pretty constant. In 1992, for example, the new Conservative MPs were the most Eurosceptic, but they were the least likely to vote against the Maastricht bill. In 1997, the vast number of new Labour MPs were half as likely to vote against the whips as their longer serving companions. We suspect that the massive increase in new MPs may lead to a period of relative calm on the backbenches, at least for the first few years of a Conservative government.
Professor Philip Cowley
The final session of a parliament – as we approach the election – rarely produces much rebellion. MPs tend to keep schtum, for fear of the electoral consequences of division. With the exception of Tuesday’s vote on AV – which will cause a split in the Parliamentary Labour Party – it’s likely that the fag-end of this parliament will be relatively quiet in parliament, and so people are looking ahead, to the situation after the next election.
The biggest change will be the number of new MPs in the Commons, especially on the Conservative side of the House. A Conservative majority government, with a working majority, could see almost two-thirds of Conservative MPs newly elected. In part, this has been caused by the expenses scandal, and the rash of decisions to stand down from the Commons that have followed. But, even before expenses (see this article from January 2009), it was clear that any new Conservative government would have a very high number of new MPs, simply as a result of the huge increase in the number of MPs they require. They currently have fewer than 200; a bare Commons majority after the next election needs 326.
Whilst lots of attention has been on how this is going to be positive for parliament – fresh ideas etc – there are good reasons to be much more sceptical. Our work has consistently found that new MPs are less likely to rebel, and much more likely to do as instructed by the party whips, than are more established MPs. There are lots of reasons for this, but the cause is pretty constant. In 1992, for example, the new Conservative MPs were the most Eurosceptic, but they were the least likely to vote against the Maastricht bill. In 1997, the vast number of new Labour MPs were half as likely to vote against the whips as their longer serving companions. We suspect that the massive increase in new MPs may lead to a period of relative calm on the backbenches, at least for the first few years of a Conservative government.
Professor Philip Cowley
Recreating our political history
If journalism is the first draft of history the biopic is now a close second, having become the staple output of many television drama departments. Recently figures as diverse as the Queen, Margaret Thatcher and Winnie Mandela have been given the treatment.
Historians undoubtedly ground their teeth as these accounts gave the protagonist undue importance and distorted events for dramatic effect. For their mantra has long been that history is made through the interaction of structure and agency, a process in which the individual, however famous, plays but a part. However recent US research [Andrew Butler et al, 'Using popular films to enhance class room learning', Psychological Science, 20:9 (2009)] shows that even amongst Ivy League students, film versions of the past can exert more influence on perceptions of the past than do academic texts. The power of the moving image compared to the immobile word has long been suspected. As Gore Vidal wrote of the Hollywood historical romances of his youth: 'we are both defined and manipulated by [cinematic] fictions of such potency that they are able to replace our own experience, often becoming our sole experience of reality'. From what we know of media effects, this process of confusing fiction for reality is made more certain if the same kind of fiction is transmitted over a prolonged period.
If biopics do construct visions of the past it is no wonder New Labour seems destined for electoral oblivion. For the small screen has given us a number of insights into the lives of the party's high command, and all of them point in one direction. The Deal (2002) depicted Tony Blair as a media-obsessed opportunist; A Very Social Secretary (2005) highlighted David Blunkett's hypocrisy and arrogance; Tony Blair: Rock Star (2006) depicted Blair as a life-long operator intent on self-advancement; while The Confessions of a Diary Secretary (2007) showed John Prescott to be as lascivious as Sid James in his pomp and, for good measure, represented Blair and Brown as overgrown school boys.
In January 2010 Channel Four added another chapter to New Labour's television history, broadcasting Mo, a biopic of Mo Mowlam, the former Secretary of State for Northern Ireland (1997-9) who died in 2005. Publicity for the drama indicated it would strike a different note to its predecessors: Mowlam was described as a 'charismatic woman whose no-nonsense approach to politics helped achieve one of the monumental landmarks in recent British history, the Good Friday Agreement'. The drama focused on Mowlam's fight with cancer but did say something about her supposedly decisive contribution to bringing peace to Northern Ireland. It implied Mowlam's habits of swearing, taking off her wig and showing her knickers helped break the log-jam, although it was made not clear exactly how. Factors that did not fit into the narrative were ignored. These included: the long-dawning realisation amongst Sinn Fein that terrorism had failed; John Hume's vital early intermediary role; and the Major government's preparatory work. Blair's contribution was also marginalised, with the Prime Minister presented as stealing Mowlam's thunder. Like most biopics Mo was, then, all agency and little structure.
The biopic genre is not new - George Arliss won an Oscar for Disraeli (1929) - and is an obvious offshoot of the publishers' venerable stand-by, the biography. Yet at the present moment - at least with regard to the New Labour biopics - it poses potential dangers. It reinforces the journalistic desire to personalise politics, casting politicians as minor celebrities: politics is thereby presented as a process in which the majority play no part, except in the crowd scenes. While in earlier biopics, the likes of Disraeli were treated like heroes - in the 1929 film he outsmarts a Russian spy - in contemporary biopics the subjects are all people of questionable character. Mo is unusual in depicting a politician in warm terms but she is marked out as exceptional and, before the cancer kills her, a victim of the dominant 'cold politics' personified by Peter Mandelson.
The current crop of political biopics is not only inaccurate historically but potentially harmful to our civic culture. Political scientists have tried to find ways of 'reengaging' the people with politics. Gordon Brown appears to think that a new electoral system for Westminster might do the trick. So far little consideration has been given to whether the way in which most people gain an understanding of our political past might effect how they think about current politics. Historians could help by taking such versions of the past seriously and recognizing that historiography now exists as much on the screen as on the page. They might encourage their own students to critically engage with how political history has been represented - and ask for example why Disraeli was depicted as a lion in 1929 but by the time Mrs. Brown (1997) was released he had become preoccupied only with spin. Outside the seminar room they should ask those responsible for producing these representations - commissioning editors, producers and writers - to discuss why they depict our recent political history in the ways they do. If even politicians are now expected to be more accountable then why not those who represent them on the screen?
Professor Steven Fielding
Historians undoubtedly ground their teeth as these accounts gave the protagonist undue importance and distorted events for dramatic effect. For their mantra has long been that history is made through the interaction of structure and agency, a process in which the individual, however famous, plays but a part. However recent US research [Andrew Butler et al, 'Using popular films to enhance class room learning', Psychological Science, 20:9 (2009)] shows that even amongst Ivy League students, film versions of the past can exert more influence on perceptions of the past than do academic texts. The power of the moving image compared to the immobile word has long been suspected. As Gore Vidal wrote of the Hollywood historical romances of his youth: 'we are both defined and manipulated by [cinematic] fictions of such potency that they are able to replace our own experience, often becoming our sole experience of reality'. From what we know of media effects, this process of confusing fiction for reality is made more certain if the same kind of fiction is transmitted over a prolonged period.
If biopics do construct visions of the past it is no wonder New Labour seems destined for electoral oblivion. For the small screen has given us a number of insights into the lives of the party's high command, and all of them point in one direction. The Deal (2002) depicted Tony Blair as a media-obsessed opportunist; A Very Social Secretary (2005) highlighted David Blunkett's hypocrisy and arrogance; Tony Blair: Rock Star (2006) depicted Blair as a life-long operator intent on self-advancement; while The Confessions of a Diary Secretary (2007) showed John Prescott to be as lascivious as Sid James in his pomp and, for good measure, represented Blair and Brown as overgrown school boys.
In January 2010 Channel Four added another chapter to New Labour's television history, broadcasting Mo, a biopic of Mo Mowlam, the former Secretary of State for Northern Ireland (1997-9) who died in 2005. Publicity for the drama indicated it would strike a different note to its predecessors: Mowlam was described as a 'charismatic woman whose no-nonsense approach to politics helped achieve one of the monumental landmarks in recent British history, the Good Friday Agreement'. The drama focused on Mowlam's fight with cancer but did say something about her supposedly decisive contribution to bringing peace to Northern Ireland. It implied Mowlam's habits of swearing, taking off her wig and showing her knickers helped break the log-jam, although it was made not clear exactly how. Factors that did not fit into the narrative were ignored. These included: the long-dawning realisation amongst Sinn Fein that terrorism had failed; John Hume's vital early intermediary role; and the Major government's preparatory work. Blair's contribution was also marginalised, with the Prime Minister presented as stealing Mowlam's thunder. Like most biopics Mo was, then, all agency and little structure.
The biopic genre is not new - George Arliss won an Oscar for Disraeli (1929) - and is an obvious offshoot of the publishers' venerable stand-by, the biography. Yet at the present moment - at least with regard to the New Labour biopics - it poses potential dangers. It reinforces the journalistic desire to personalise politics, casting politicians as minor celebrities: politics is thereby presented as a process in which the majority play no part, except in the crowd scenes. While in earlier biopics, the likes of Disraeli were treated like heroes - in the 1929 film he outsmarts a Russian spy - in contemporary biopics the subjects are all people of questionable character. Mo is unusual in depicting a politician in warm terms but she is marked out as exceptional and, before the cancer kills her, a victim of the dominant 'cold politics' personified by Peter Mandelson.
The current crop of political biopics is not only inaccurate historically but potentially harmful to our civic culture. Political scientists have tried to find ways of 'reengaging' the people with politics. Gordon Brown appears to think that a new electoral system for Westminster might do the trick. So far little consideration has been given to whether the way in which most people gain an understanding of our political past might effect how they think about current politics. Historians could help by taking such versions of the past seriously and recognizing that historiography now exists as much on the screen as on the page. They might encourage their own students to critically engage with how political history has been represented - and ask for example why Disraeli was depicted as a lion in 1929 but by the time Mrs. Brown (1997) was released he had become preoccupied only with spin. Outside the seminar room they should ask those responsible for producing these representations - commissioning editors, producers and writers - to discuss why they depict our recent political history in the ways they do. If even politicians are now expected to be more accountable then why not those who represent them on the screen?
Professor Steven Fielding
Thursday 4 February 2010
Why AV, why now?
Nobody likes the know-all who says ‘I told you so’ but in my book The Labour Party (2003) I really did write (on page 53 if you want to look) that Labour would change the electoral system for MPs only ‘when it was absolutely necessary’ to sustain the party in power.
The party went into the 1997 election committed to holding a referendum on the issue, Blair subsequently appointed a commission under Lord Jenkins and in 1999 this recommended a system of ‘AV plus’ – designed to retain the link between voter and MP while making the result more proportional.
Chancellor Gordon Brown was among those who opposed letting the people decide: after nearly two decades in opposition he did not want to create an electoral system that increased the chance of Labour having to form a coalition with the LibDems. Now, facing probable oblivion in May or June, Prime Minister Brown would be only too happy to have instead Nick Clegg sitting around the Cabinet table after the election. So while he might talk of AV promoting a ‘new politics’ it is electoral calculation that has caused the Prime Minister to embrace reform.
It was ever thus: Disraeli enfranchised the skilled working class in 1867 because he thought he could retain power as a result. There’s nowt so old as the ‘new politics’ it seems – especially when an election is in view.
Professor Steven Fielding
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