‘A Newer Labour’, Policy Network, 8 January 2015

It may seem strange to kick off a discussion on what the next Labour government can learn from the last one with a brief excursion back to the 1980s. But anyone interested in statecraft should take a look at what quickly became a seminal study of those years – the late Jim Bulpitt’s The Discipline of the New Democracy: Mrs Thatcher’s Domestic Statecraft.

In it, Bulpitt claimed that successful statecraft could be broken down into four components.

The first is in some ways the most obvious: a winning electoral strategy. This is best achieved by seeing your four- or five-year term as a series of phases: you get the difficult stuff out of the way early on; you get the tangible benefits flowing with at least a year still to run; and you remember to use that year or so to reanimate and re-tool your project so that you can run not just on your record but on a future offer.

The second component is just as important, and that is party management. That means keeping your supporters, and particularly your members, not merely content but connected, helping to ensure that they not only absorb the shocks that are bound to come but also that they will go into bat for you in bad times as well as good.

The third, talking of shocks, is crucial too, and that is governing competence. This is about convincing voters that, in the age of ‘valence politics’, where people care more about sound management than tribal ideologies, you know what you are doing even if they do not particularly like it.

The fourth and final component is political argument hegemony. This means establishing your frame, your worldview, your common sense as the common sense so that anything running counter to it looks foolish, naïve, wrong, impractical, even impossible.

Bulpitt’s definition of statecraft seems to me as a good a guide as any to getting into and, most importantly, staying in government, not least because it points to some of the weaknesses and mistakes of the Blair and Brown era which the next Labour government should try hard to avoid.

It would, of course, be bizarre to suggest that Tony Blair failed to come up with a winning electoral strategy, although it is only fair to point out that the elections of 2001 and 2005 almost won themselves, so benign was the economy and so hopeless were the Tories at the time. But one of the reasons Gordon Brown proved such a big disappointment was because, after portraying himself for so long as Labour’s master-strategist, he seemed to have no discernible game-plan once he entered Number 10.  The argument that he was blown off course by the global financial meltdown seems less convincing than its opposite, namely that without that massive challenge he would simply have drifted to defeat with virtually no achievements as prime minister.

When it came to the party, it is no exaggeration to say that both Blair and Brown allowed Labour’s grassroots to wither and even die.  The discipline and centralisation they brought to the party before 1997 was a necessary advance but by 2001 that model was wearing thin and needed renewing with a more interactive version that might have meant the poor bloody infantry felt more appreciated and more involved. The top-brass avoided paying the price in 2005 but did so in 2010, after which the move toward a more decentralised, community organising model was desperately – perhaps too desperately – needed.

One would be hard pressed to criticise Blair (and, by implication, Brown while he was chancellor) over governing competence.  Yes, there were some difficult moments, particularly at the Home Office and, of course, over Iraq. But, for the most part, his was a government that looked like it was normally in control of events rather than being swept away by them. Brown’s premiership, however, was a different proposition: ‘the election that never was’ (when, three months after becoming prime minister, the new prime minister backed out of calling an early general election which he and his aides had very evidently been preparing for) was followed by a series of disasters (beginning with the loss of data discs containing the personal records of 7.25 million families claiming child benefit) from which the government never really recovered its authority and its equilibrium. Indeed, once again, it took the global financial meltdown to remind voters that the man in charge did, at least occasionally, know best.

As for political argument hegemony, Polly Toynbee is onto something when she argues that neither Blair nor Brown, after brilliantly repositioning Labour in opposition as a force determined to fuse social justice with economic dynamism, ever took the necessary next step – namely, using the power granted them by huge majorities and a decade in office to finish off Thatcherism and persuade people that centrist social democracy was the only game in town. Instead, as she argues, they were so scarred – and so scared – by the seemingly endless defeats of the 1980s and early 1990s that they came to believe that Britain really was a conservative country after all. Any good an active and enabling state could do would, therefore, have to be done by stealth rather than by example after example coupled with constant reminders of why what they were doing made perfect – and common – sense. As a result, when Labour’s economic luck ran out, it proved all-too-easy for the Conservatives to argue that almost everything it had done was a big enormous waste of money which had created the mess that only their state-shrinking austerity programme was capable of clearing up.

If there is, then, a Labour (or, more realistically, a Labour-led) government after May 2015, it should do all it can to learn from its predecessor’s mistakes. This is emphatically not about trashing New Labour in order to emphasise Ed Miliband has moved on: there has arguably been way too much of that already. But it is about statecraft: about a four- or five-year plan to win the next election, albeit one flexible enough to survive contact with the enemy; about not forgetting the party lest it forgets about you; about sometimes doing less but doing it better; and about having sufficient self-belief in your ideas not just to trumpet them from the rooftops but also to trample those of your opponents into the dirt where, in truth, you believe they belong.

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‘The Tories should stop following and start leading’, Bright Blue, 9 December 2014

A day or two before David Cameron made his long-awaited ‘big speech’ on immigration on 28 November, Nick Clegg warned him not to float plans that would see ‘the British people…plunged into a cycle of wild overpromising and inevitable disappointment, their scepticism confirmed.’

That Clegg had a point should surprise no-one. After all, when it comes to ‘wild overpromising’ leading to ‘inevitable disappointment’ which confirms people’s scepticism, he is something of a past master. But although the Prime Minister stepped back from the brink, dropping all talk of entry quotas on EU citizens, it is difficult to escape the feeling that the Conservative Party is increasingly locked into just the kind of cycle that the Deputy Prime Minister described.

If that is the case, then, sadly, the Tories have no-one to blame but themselves. True, research suggests that public anxiety about immigration has increased as the numbers entering the UK have risen. But it also suggests that they take their cues not just from the media but from politicians, especially when, as with immigration, the impact of an issue is largely indirect rather than personal.

Ever since the mid-sixties, when they established a lead over Labour as the best party to handle the issue, the Tories have been tempted to exploit it for electoral purposes, especially (although not exclusively) in opposition. This was never more the case than after 1997, when the Party’s leaders chose to bang on about bogus asylum seekers, to envision Britain turning into ‘a foreign land’, and to blow the dog whistle by insisting (who knew?) that it wasn’t racist to talk about immigration. This, combined with the huge influx of migrants presided over by the Blair government, and the hostile reaction to that influx on the part of many media outlets, helped drive immigration remorselessly up the electorate’s agenda.

Then along came David Cameron who, for a while, confused everyone by virtually refusing to talk about the issue for the first eighteen months of his leadership.  Having been marched to the top of the hill on immigration by his predecessors, those voters for whom it was a particular bugbear felt abandoned and some of them began to look elsewhere, not least to UKIP and Nigel Farage – a man who was more than happy to carry on where Messrs Hague, Duncan Smith and Howard had left off.

When Cameron suddenly returned to the issue towards the end of 2007 – largely in order to shore up the Conservative vote when it looked like Brown might call and win a snap election – most of those voters eventually returned to the fold. But, for all the pre-election promises about reducing net migration to the tens rather than the hundreds of thousands, and for all the tough measures that have been enacted since 2010, the damage had been done. Immigration was now capable of rivalling the economy for top spot as ‘the most important issue facing the country’ (although never, note, the most important issue facing people or their families personally). At one and the same time, Cameron was suspected by those particularly exercised by it of being flakey on the issue.

Still, we are, as they say, where we are. So what is to be done?  First, someone has to shout (or at least whisper) stop! The law of diminishing returns – both practical and rhetorical – has long since set in when it comes to announcing new laws to limit entry and eligibility. But given Labour’s even greater sensitivity to being seen as a soft touch on immigration, and given UKIP’s interest in keeping the pot boiling, it will have to be the Tories that do the shouting (or the whispering).

Indeed, there is a good argument to say that only the Conservatives can do it. Inasmuch as they have a brand that commands respect, it is surely the one best suited to the task of helping to bring the country to its senses on the issue.

The Conservative Party long enjoyed a reputation for hard-headed realism rather than as a maker of far-fetched promises. The brand was all about balancing the protection of national identity, sovereignty and tradition with the reliance of a trading nation and a diplomatic power on relatively open markets and good global relationships. It was also about reconciling a degree of compassion with an understandable concern not to be taken for a ride. All these things make it the ideal rallying point for a sensible stance on immigration in the twenty-first century. Moreover, the Tories have spent a few years following rather than leading on the issue. Surely it’s now time to give leadership a try.

Such leadership arguably isn’t really about particular policy measures, although there may be one or two individual initiatives worth trying. If the government really cares about both control and integration as much as it claims, for instance, then it’s about time that it put its money where its mouth is when it comes to border protection (including counting people in and out) and English language classes. Doing something to reduce UK PLC’s demand for migrant workers by providing British kids not just with the skills they need but with the work ethic and character to make them count could help too.

Just as important though, is working to establish a calm, clear narrative anchored in the practical and the possible – one that treats people as the concerned adults they really are rather than as toddlers whose every tantrum must be appeased. Recent research from British Future suggests this stands a reasonable chance of working – even more so, perhaps, if Conservatives can find it in themselves to go out and really sell the success stories of first and second generation immigrants, to show how the UK’s ethnic minorities are a huge asset when it comes to trading with the rest of the world, and to abandon the idea of a quintessential England in favour of an acknowledgement that our nation – like our language – has and always will thrive by incorporating incomers and the innovations they bring.

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‘Suppose they gave a war and no one came’, Britain Votes 2015 Blog, Hansard Society, 27 November 2014

Suppose they gave a war and no one came?’ became a catchphrase of the US peace movement in the 1960s. What happened over the last week in British politics couldn’t help but remind me of it. Why? Because of the gap between what was supposed to happen to the Labour Party’s poll ratings in the wake of the media storm touched off by ‘that tweet’ by shadow minister (now ex-shadow minister), Emily Thornberry, and what actually happened to them.

Views were – and will doubtless remain – divided on whether the Islington South MP’s decision to share a photo of ‘White Van Dan’s’ flag-festooned house, on the driveway of which sat his now famous Ford Transit, was proof of the disdain secretly felt by Labour MPs for the very class their party was founded to represent. Likewise on whether Ed Miliband’s decision to sack her was the only thing he could do in the circumstances or else it was a ridiculous overreaction which not only gave the story extra legs but confirmed that her real crime was to have let the proverbial cat out of the bag.

On one thing, however, everyone (or at least virtually everyone in the media) was agreed: the whole thing was a disaster for Ed Miliband. Labour’s performance in the Rochester and Strood by-election was bad enough already. But the Twitterstorm which began brewing even before the polling stations had closed somehow managed to turn a drama into a crisis. UKIP, it’s true, got its fair share of attention, but a lot of the coverage in the aftermath revolved around Labour losing the white working class, thereby letting the Tories off lightly when, if anything, the result was even worse for David Cameron than it was for Ed.

One can only imagine how much some of the staff at the Mail and the Sun were looking forward, along withCCHQ, to reading the opinion polls which went into the field over the weekend. After a few days during which, in the wake of the so-called Bonfire Night plot against Ed Miliband, the two biggest parties had drawn neck and neck, this would surely be the point at which the Tories would finally establish a clear lead – one which they would gradually extend over the next five months, thereby slipping safely back into Downing Street, even if only as a minority or coalition government.

Somehow, however, it doesn’t seem to have worked out like that – not yet at least. Rather than dropping back to, or even below, the miserable 29 per cent it scored in 2010, Labour seems to have held its head above water and even, if the latest polls are to be believed, begun to start swimming for the shore again. If a gap has opened up at all (and I rather suspect it hasn’t really, but who knows?), it would appear to be in the opposite direction to which everyone expected.

How can this be? There are at least five possibilities, by no means mutually exclusive but no means equally convincing either.

The first is that it’s too soon to tell – that there is an inevitable lag between bad news for a party and its impact on public opinion; give it a few more days and then you’ll see. This might be true but seems unlikely – normally the impact of events is relatively rapid, only to trail off when people have forgotten about it, as they very quickly do.

The second possibility is that people are impressed by Ed Miliband ruthlessly forcing out a frontbench ally and then telling anyone who’ll listen that he feels respect whenever he sees a white van or a St George’s flag. To which I say (without a shred of hard evidence to back up my opinion, mind), ‘Come off it. Are you serious? Call me back, though, if Ed gets into the cage with White Van Dan and proceeds to beat the crap out of him.’

The third possibility is that some wavering Labour voters of a politically correct cast of mind have taken one look at White Van Dan and his Danifesto, decided that, for some reason, they don’t feel a great deal of affinity with a shaven-headed cage-fighter (or, for that matter, with all his talk of sending them back, the cane and harsher sentences for all those poppy-burners) and have thought better about drifting back to the Lib Dems and the Greens. This isn’t beyond the bounds, although we haven’t really seen a big drop in support for the latter, so I wouldn’t personally put money on it.

The fourth possibility is that UKIP is enjoying a post by-election bounce which – although it’s sometimes easy to forget this amidst all the understandable agonising over its impact on Labour – is hitting the Tories harder than anyone else. As is their wont, they are then going off on one with regards to Europe, which never does them any favours. This seems, relatively speaking, a fairly reasonable assumption, although the UKIP bounce isn’t that big this time; nor are the Tories any more divided after Rochester than they were before it. So, again, ho-hum.

The fifth and final possibility is that the by-election, Emily Thornberry’s fatal tweet and subsequent dismissal, the Danifesto, the front-page splashes, the expert analysis, and Miliband’s tour of the television studios, have barely registered with voters who, quite frankly, have more important things to think about. The media in other words is obsessed with the noise – not least because it produces most of it – but misses the signal, forgetting that it’s the fundamentals (perceptions of competence and credibility on key issues and the state of people’s personal finances) that decide elections, not what’s in the papers. This, of course, is too ridiculous even to contemplate. So I’d best shut up.

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‘Why Labour should think culturally as well as economically about immigration’, New Statesman, 19 November 2014

A couple of weeks ago, a report by academics at UCL made one of the strongest cases yet for the economic benefits of immigration to the UK – not for the first time. Report after report has come to broadly similar conclusions, albeit with the occasional (though contested) caveat concerning the impact on those in very low-paid, low-skilled jobs. Yet for all the influence they’ve had on voters – and indeed on most of the parties that claim to represent them – their authors may as well not have bothered.

Labour’s position on immigration is a case in point. As the evidence of the economic benefits mounts, the party has become increasingly ambivalent about the whole issue. Yesterday’s announcements by Yvette Cooper and Rachel Reeves are only the latest instalment in a long line of carefully calibrated interventions in which they, and of course Ed Miliband, have apologised for what happened under the last Labour government and promised tougher and tougher measures to put things right.

Their efforts may have escaped the notice of those Labour MPs who, in the wake of any election at which the party appears to have lost support to Ukip, rush onto the airwaves and into print to insist that the leadership do something. But it doesn’t make it any less true. Why, then, don’t voters seem to have noticed either? The answer – and indeed the reason why Labour is going to find neutralising immigration as an issue almost impossible in the run up to the general election – lies in the party’s continued insistence on giving an essentially economic answer to what for many voters is actually a cultural question.

Miliband’s big immigration speech at the start of the Rochester and Strood campaign was a classic example. Aside from the introduction of beefed-up border controls and English language requirements on those working in the public sector, the measures he proposed were all economic, covering the exploitation, recruitment and training of workers and restrictions on eligibility for benefits.

That this is the case should come as no real surprise. It may well be true that the Labour party “owes more to Methodism than to Marxism” but, like all socialist and social democratic parties, its view of the world is essentially economistic. As a result, unhappiness about immigration and the associated rise of the populist radical right tends, whatever academic research says to the contrary, to be seen as fundamentally driven by, say, labour market dislocation or pressures on public services.

If anything, the tendency to do that is stronger than ever now that it’s become virtually taboo among politicians of all parties to suggest that some of their voters are racially prejudiced or even simply xenophobic – something that their predecessors in, say, the Sixties and Seventies, were far more comfortable admitting and far more determined to do something about.

There are Labour people who have pointed to the need to take a more three-dimensional approach to the subject – one which requires Labour to do more to think about how it might tackle the sense of dispossession, dislocation and displacement associated with decades of immigration. Maurice Glasman is one example. John Denham is another, even if, in calling for the party to reassess its seemingly reflex support for the principle (and therefore the practical consequences) of free movement, his prescription is as much economic as it is cultural.

But they are, at present anyway, seen, if not as mavericks, then as on the fringes of a difficult debate that the party would rather not have – a debate between what in some continental social democratic parties are called the “beer drinkers” (concerned with maintaining the party’s appeal to the white working class) and the “wine drinkers” (who believe the future is liberal, not regressive).

This is a pity. For one thing, failing to acknowledge that the party’s more discerning beer drinkers like Glasman and Denham are saying something worth listening to will leave the field open to the lager louts – the rent-a-quote Labour MPs who talk a lot but don’t really have much to say.

For another, thinking more culturally as well as economically about immigration may mean that – in the long term at least – Labour finds a better way to address voters’ concerns than simply introducing measures that, even if they don’t prove futile or even counterproductive, few voters seem willing to believe will ever be implemented. That voters don’t trust the Tories either is something to hold on to, but it is also pretty cold comfort.

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‘A by-election win for Ukip: but will it repeat the SDP’s journey?’, New Statesman, 10 October 2014.

Tarquin Fin-tim-lin-bin-whin-bim-lim-bus-stop-F’tang-F’tang-Olé-Biscuitbarrel fought a brave fight but, sadly, could only manage fifth place. Like all the other parties in the Crosby by-election of November 1981, his Monster Raving Loony Party was swept away on the tide that ushered in the first by-election win for the Social Democratic Party. The SDP’s victorious candidate, Shirley Williams, had overturned what had been a safe-as-houses Tory majority to win with a whopping 49 per cent of the vote. How many more people, everyone wondered, were out there just itching to cast their ballots for a mould-breaking alternative to the mainstream parties?

Douglas Carswell’s victory is surely similarly historic. Does that make him the new Shirley Williams, and Ukip the next SDP?  Nigel Farage had better hope not.

At first glance, the parallels are striking. The SDP, like Ukip, clearly benefitted from the fact that voters had lost faith in the traditional top-dogs, Labour and the Conservatives, at the same time that the familiar third-party, the Liberals, had also begun to lose momentum.

Like Ukip, although it was essentially a splinter group from one of the two main parties, the SDP could nonetheless claim to appeal as well to many of the people who had supported its historic rival.

The SDP even managed, like Ukip, to pick up not only voters but paid-up members, too: indeed, at an estimated 145,000 in 1983 (over half of whom had apparently not previously belonged to a political party), it had more than three times the number that Farage’s outfit currently claims to have recruited.

Moreover, although its leaders were perhaps best known for their shared views on Europe, the SDP, like Ukip, was about so much more than that, expressing a deeper dissatisfaction with “politics as usual” and a desire for change across the piece rather than on a single issue.

The SDP could also claim the credit, like Ukip, for ensuring that the existing party with which it was initially most associated eventually moved to adopt much of its platform.

There, however, the similarities end – and, maybe, the warning-lights begin to flash for Farage.

Unlike Ukip, the SDP was created from the top-down, rather than the bottom-up. Without the so-called Gang of Four former ministers who founded it, and without the almost 30 sitting MPs who swiftly jumped ship to join them, it would never have gained the instant credibility that it was afforded by both the media and the electorate, and that pushed it, at one stage, to over 50 per cent support in the polls.

Ukip’s new signing, despite his richly-deserved reputation as an accomplished techno-populist, a committed libertarian and an all-round contrarian, is hardly in the same league as Williams, David Owen, Roy Jenkins, or even the now-forgotten Bill Rodgers.

What also gave the SDP wings (though not, it turned out, legs) was the fact that it, unlike Ukip, went all-out to appeal to the centre-ground of British politics – where most voters, as poll after poll attests, are located. The problem, as it turned out, was that while this remained the case, most of those voters soon (if they were initially inclined towards the Tories) or else eventually (if they normally thought of themselves as Labour) decided that their ideas and interests could be accommodated more-or-less satisfactorily by one or other of the existing alternatives. The economy improved and, along with victory in the Falklands, helped the Conservatives; Neil Kinnock came along and dragged Labour kicking and screaming back to reality.

What ultimately ensured, however, that the SDP went up like the proverbial rocket but came down like the proverbial stick was that it failed to overcome the residual tug of loyalty which most MPs (and wannabe MPs) felt towards the parties that had brought them into politics in the first place. Loyalty which most of those who funded those parties, and many of those who normally voted for those parties, shared with them.

Messrs Carswell and Farage, of course, will argue that, by being more of a bottom-up than a top-down project, Ukip – which has, after all, already lasted nearly twice as long as the SDP – will prove to be a slow-burn success rather than a spectacular failure.

They may be right. After all, loyalty to a party, particularly among voters, is a much rarer commodity than it was back in the early eighties. Ukip has also managed to lure away some very rich ex-Tory donors.

Just as importantly, it can point to constituencies in which it seems to enjoy especially concentrated support, meaning it suffers less than the SDP did from being too thinly-spread. This is the only way that smaller parties – the Lib Dems used to be the archetypal example – can survive and thrive in a First-past-the-post system designed to deny them the seats to which their vote share should arguably entitle them.  An electoral pact might help, too, but if Farage has any sense, Ukip will avoid the SDP’s mistake of getting too closely entwined with another party only to be swallowed up in the aftermath.

Ultimately, however, Ukip can only go so far under the current rules of the game. To really break the mould, it needs – just like the SDP needed but never succeeded – to break the electoral system. If it can’t or won’t do that, then its only hope is to break the Conservative party. Whether that happens is ultimately down to the Tories themselves.

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‘The Tory Schism: From Robert Peel and the split over the Corn Laws to the Ukip insurgency’, New Statesman, 5 September, 2014

The Conservative backbencher Douglas Carswell’s defection to Ukip has triggered talk of a seemingly inevitable battle for the soul of the Conservative Party one that could split the Tories so badly that they end up out of power for many years, even decades. Yet speculation about some kind of split on the right is nothing new. Even in the early 1990s, long before the rise of Ukip, there was much speculation to the effect that the argument over Europe then raging in the Tory party might end in the kind of rift that followed Robert Peel s 1846 repeal of the Corn Laws (which protected British agriculture against cheaper imports). This was a schism that prevented the Tories from winning an electoral majority for nearly 30 years, and it is easy to see why it could continue to do so. After all, both the bare bones of the story and the cast of main characters can be made to seem familiar.

A Conservative prime minister seen by many of his parliamentary colleagues as patronising and aloof rides roughshod over public opinion and their own heartfelt concerns. It turns out the latter are far more effectively expressed by a charismatic outsider with a populist touch that few, if any, of his rivals come close to matching. Sadly, however, for all the enthusiasm and emotion generated, much of the electorate especially those who represent the Britain of the future remains largely unpersuaded, thereby handing victory, almost by default, to the Tories opponents. Finally, when things begin to go wrong for them, too, the Tory party wins a majority but only after it ostensibly has been forced to abandon the principle that triggered the civil war in the first place and only after it has lost some of the brightest and the best to its rivals. Even then, things aren’t completely settled; the dispute rumbles on, occasionally costing the party an election it might otherwise have won, until the early part of the next century.

Yet a more detailed look at the facts suggests the differences between then and now are as striking as the similarities of institutions, individuals, interests or ideas. When it comes to the first, we need to remember that the 21st-century Conservative Party is a very different beast from its mid-19th-century predecessor. This was a far looser collection of MPs whose loyalties often lay as much with men as with measures. And since, even in 1841 and therefore after the Great Reform Act, it could win a governing majority with just 306,000 votes (as opposed to the 14 million it took in 1992, the last time the Tories won one), it had little in the way of permanent extra-parliamentary organisation, be it voluntary or professional. Nor, as a consequence, did it need to keep sweet the myriad donors and lenders who today provide the tens of millions of pounds required to keep things ticking over, let alone fight elections. In other words, the entity that split after 1846 was a fluid work in progress rather than a fully formed party so much so that the split might be better seen as an aspect of its creation, rather than a catastrophic misjudgement by a bunch of people whom John Stuart Mill called stupid.

In the modern era (and perhaps even the postmodern era) most large, mainstream, well-established parties do not split, at least in the sense of suffering a substantial break­away that gives rise to a significant new competitor and/or an alliance (maybe merger) with an existing rival. Labour s loss of 30 MPs to the newly formed Social Democratic Party in the early 1980s was the exception that proves the rule, and one it eventually managed to overcome. That is not to say they do not experience rifts. But these are for the most part contained or sublimated, sometimes in more or less formal factions and sometimes, when views cross-cut rather than map on to each other, by less hard-and-fast tendencies. This is especially the case in first-past-the-post systems, where the barriers to entry for small parties especially those whose support is evenly but thinly spread, rather than geographically concentrated are so high that they guarantee all but the most dedicated and the most deluded will stick with the devil they know. Unless and until the Conservative Party decides that, like some other centre-right parties in Europe, its best chance of getting into government lies in forming a coalition with a smaller party on its far-right flank, it will continue to oppose any form of proportional representation. As a result, any mass breakout from its ranks, if it occurs at all, is likely to be limited and short-lived.

So much for institutions: what about individuals? Here, too, there are big differences between 1846 and 2014. For one thing, however gifted a populist communicator Nigel Farage is, he is no Disraeli. Farage is the insurgent leader of a potential breakaway movement: Disraeli was the parliamentary leader of the rump that remained loyal after the Peelite split, steering the party through a long period of opposition after 1847 and finally winning a majority at the election of 1874. This was his reward not just for his admirable patience, but for his astounding guile passing the Second Reform Act just before an all-too-brief first bite at the premiership six years previously.

It may well be that Cameron is as disliked by as many of his backbenchers as Peel was by his. Peel lost the support of his party not so much because he refused to make a change for which his MPs were calling but because he refused to let them stop him making a change that he himself felt ideologically compelled to make. Even Cameron s greatest admirers would be hard-pressed to argue that, with the honourable exception of gay marriage, he would rather go down fighting for a principle than achieve some kind of quick fix. His characteristic modus operandi is to do anything and everything he can to buy off his critics, in the hope that it will allow him to make it past the next election, after which he can probably work something out. That, after all, is exactly what he has been doing on Europe since he first promised to pull Tory MPs out of the European People s Party alliance during the Conservative leadership contest in 2005.

For Peel, repealing the Corn Laws was part of a wider free-trade agenda that would, he was convinced, boost not only the country s economy but also his party s chances of attracting the support of the emerging middles classes living and working in its most dynamic cities and regions. The fault line exposed in the party by the Corn Laws wasn’t simply a political or policy disagreement: it was rooted in an ongoing, disruptive transformation of Britain s political economy, and therefore its party system.

Pretty much the same can be said of what happened to the Liberals after the First World War. Ostensibly the split in their party combined personality and principle, Lloyd George arguing that Asquith and his colleagues had to set aside some of their most cherished convictions in order to mobilise the resources advisable to combat an existential threat. But what did for the Liberal Party was that it proved unable to adjust to an era in which competition would revolve around the claims of working people to the economic rewards and political power to which their industrial muscle and sheer numbers, at least in their own view, entitled them.

Douglas Carswell’s conservative critique of Britain s relationship with the European Union is in essence that of the hyper-globalist rather than the Little Englander. Sovereignty is important, but so is the idea that membership of the EU leaves us in Britain shackled to a corpse and therefore prevents us from fulfilling our manifest destiny as a freewheeling, free-trading, easy-hire, easy-fire, offshore island doing business with the Anglosphere as well as the rising powers of Asia and South America.

Perhaps Carswell, and others who might follow him into Ukip either before or after the next election, can claim as Peelites such as Gladstone, who split the Conservatives by defecting to what became the Liberal Party, could claim to be on the side of the future rather than the past? Perhaps the majority of the most powerful financial, commercial and industrial interests in Britain, which continue to believe that belonging to the EU and expanding our economic horizons need not be a zero-sum game, are as deluded as the aristocrats and gentlemen farmers who believed that agriculture would remain dominant?

Probably not. Business in Britain is hard-headed rather than sentimental in its belief that, on balance and for the foreseeable future, EU membership is necessary. There are many free-marketeers in the parliamentary Conservative Party who, more or less regretfully, think the same way. Those same MPs look at Ukip and at what it says about, say, welfare, immigration and education, and see in its words and actions not their kind of neoliberalism but, rather, angry nativism and aggrieved nostalgia. Most current and would-be Conservative MPs, even though they value tradition and believe in the common sense of ordinary people, still believe in a better tomorrow rather than a better yesterday. And the people whom they know in their heart of hearts the centre right needs to attract, at least in the long term, are not the autochthonous voters stranded in English seaside towns but the majority who work in the expanding sectors of the economy.

Ukip undeniably has some strengths. It is essentially a bottom-up rather than a top-down project, and it has already lasted nearly twice as long as the SDP, which broke away from Labour in 1981 after the party s decision to elect Michael Foot as leader and take a sharp turn to the left. It also seems determined to mimic the Liberal Democrats (and, indeed, the French Front National s) strategy of building on local success. Its ability to attract funding from wealthy individuals, however eccentric they can be made to appear by their opponents, is important. It may also be the case that the volatility of voters who are less and less anchored in tribal loyalties and the media s eagerness to find colourful characters has changed the rules of the political game. So, too, perhaps, has the alternative route to influence that social media and the internet offer to backbenchers. And, perhaps, as the techno-populist Carswell would no doubt argue, those of us who are sceptical just don t get it. The earthquake may be coming, the volcano about to blow. Somehow, however, I doubt it.

The Conservative Party contains many MPs who believe that this country would be better off outside the EU. And, who knows, some of them may end up concluding like Carswell that the best way of persuading Cameron or whoever succeeds him that the Tories have no option but to recommend withdrawal is to defect to Ukip. Yet most of their colleagues, as well as many of those who work for their re-election at the grass roots or who supply them with the financial wherewithal to do so, would look with horror on anything that could imperil the party s ability to take on and beat its main enemy, Labour which also happens to be the shortest route to getting the referendum so many of them crave.

The Conservative Party has stayed pretty much intact for almost the whole of the past century, even though Tories have been arguing among themselves about Europe since at least the early 1960s. This, combined with lessons learned from Labour s more traumatic experience in the 1980s and the remorseless logic of Britain s political economy and electoral system, suggests that all the talk of tectonic plates shifting may be just a little bit premature. ​

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‘Universities lack the lobbying clout to exempt students from migration target’, The Conversation, 27 August 2014.

A recent joint report by British Future and Universities UK has criticised the Coalition for imposing unnecessary limits on the numbers of foreign students allowed into the country. Its authors say government immigration policy that attracts “the brightest and the best” has managed to hobble one of Britain’s most successful export industries – higher education.

Most people, despite their desire to see overall immigration reduced, apparently do not think that including students in the government’s net migration target makes much sense.

In research just published, James Hampshire and I looked at why the decision to include students in the net migration target was made, how it was implemented, and the relative failure of the higher education lobby to do very much about it.

The decision

Net migration is the difference between immigration and emigration. If the Tories’ pledge to reduce it from the hundreds to the tens of thousands was to be redeemed, then the Coalition had precious few options.

Since emigration is not something any government can do very much about, and since the same goes for the entry of EU citizens, it was bound to focus its attention on reducing non-EU immigration. It could do this in three areas: work-related migration, family migration, and foreign students.

Although it did not impose an actual cap on international students, the government included them in the overall net migration target because they made up such a significant proportion of the numbers coming in and staying on. Indeed, not to have done so would arguably have rendered that target pretty meaningless.

And although people might tell pollsters they have no objection to international students, politicians and officials know that in real life, when those same people look around them, they can’t tell who is a student and who isn’t. All they see is more foreigners – and many of them don’t like it.

Rules tightened

To implement the policy, in April 2012 the Coalition abolished the Tier 1 post-study work route, under which foreign students could stay and look for work after finishing their studies. New ruleswere introduced that require foreign students who wish to stay in the UK after graduation to acquire a skilled job offer from an employer.

The government also increased the financial and language requirements for overseas students, and increased the restrictions on certain students’ rights to work or bring dependent relatives. In addition, there has been an increase in scrutiny of institutions sponsoring foreign students.

Failure of the HE lobby

The UK’s higher education institutions have been unable to do much about all this. They have fallen far short of the successes business has enjoyed in obtaining significant concessions to work-related migration restrictions.

According to senior officials we interviewed, Universities UK and the education sector as a whole are less used to lobbying. Institutions are not yet as effective as business at doing so, often achieving publicity but little leverage. For instance, the sector has not persuaded the Home Office to task the government’s Migration Advisory Committee (MAC) to look into the issue of students in the net migration cap and make recommendations.

Notwithstanding criticisms from parliamentary committees, there has been relatively little pressure and no organised campaign from MPs sitting in what are sometimes thought of as “university seats”. This is partly because they come from different parties, and partly because it is not always easy to identify a particular MP as the representative of a university or student population, because they may be spread across several parliamentary constituencies.

There is also little evidence of higher education lobbyists ruthlessly targeting their efforts at either Conservative MPs, or at those Tories in the Number Ten Policy Unit charged with writing the party’s next manifesto.

Brushing off criticisms

While statistics indicate substantial falls in the number of study visas being issued to foreign students, the fall has been concentrated in the further education and language school sectors, not in the university sector.

This, alongside the fact that there is no explicit, discrete cap on international students, has made it easier for the government to brush off criticisms, even when they come from within – most obviously from the Department of Business Innovation and Skills (BIS) and business secretary Vince Cable.

It’s worth emphasising that bureaucracy and both inter- and intra-party politics play a big part in all this too. Put bluntly: BIS is nowhere near as big a beast as the Home Office in the Whitehall jungle; Cable is a Lib Dem, not a Tory; and Theresa May and David Cameron both have an awful lot invested in being seen to be doing their very best to hit their net migration target by 2015. Anyone hoping to see students removed from that target, then, had better not hold their breath.

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