The Future of Politics

The voting public may be more discerning – and I welcome that – but it is becoming an increasingly rare breed. Disenchantment with politics is a national characteristic, but it affects certain groups more severely than others. It is particularly a problem among young people. A 1998 MORI survey of eighteen-year-olds revealed that four in ten young people are not registered to vote – five times as many as in the general population. The reported turnout of eighteen to twenty-four-year-olds in the 1997 general election was some 13 per cent lower than that for the electorate as a whole. It was also lower than in the 1972 election, so the trend is worsening. According to Vernon Bogdanor, Professor of Government at Oxford University, only 12 per cent of eighteen to twenty-four-year-olds say that they will consistently vote in local elections, and 52 per cent say they will never do so.3

The low level of enthusiasm for voting is a reflection of the critically low interest in political matters as a whole. Half of eighteen to twenty-four-year-olds surveyed by MORI in 1999 reported that they were not interested in politics. Over 80 per cent claimed to know little or nothing about Parliament, and 30 per cent said they had never heard of proportional representation! As someone who has visited many schools and colleges across the country, I can say without reservation that today’s young people are just as energetic and curious as my own generation, if not more so, but the truth is that their interests are focused increasingly away from politics and onto other things. We politicians have clearly played a part in that process.

As someone who has attended nearly every Brit Award ceremony since entering Westminster, I find it telling that politicians are hardly ever invited any more to present one of the awards. It used to be a common occurrence, but they simply do not have that sort of status among the young nowadays. If MPs stand too close to a pop star, they are more likely to get a bucket of water thrown over them, as happened to John Prescott a couple of years back. I felt a great deal of sympathy for John on that occasion, but I thought the episode was a telling symbol of popular disenchantment.

Given that young people nowadays are less likely than before to be interested in politics, to be knowledgeable about the political system, or to have formed an attachment to a particular party, what does this say about their attitudes towards the whole democratic process? Surely their low levels of political interest and knowledge translate into mistrust, cynicism and apathy?

The figures support this contention. A MORI survey of sixteen to twenty-four-year-olds ranked politicians and journalists bottom on the list of people they could trust. The same survey asked youngsters whether they thought various schemes (such as polling booths in shopping centres and Internet voting) might encourage them to vote. The answer was an overwhelming no. Such is the level of disillusionment among the young – they are not abstaining because voting is inconvenient. They are abstaining because they quite plainly cannot see the point.

This attitude translates into a wider sense of alienation from nation and community as a whole. Over one third of those polled said they did not feel strongly attached to their community; a fifth said they felt the same about their country; and two thirds reported feeling little or no attachment to Europe. Over a third said they knew little or nothing about their responsibilities as a citizen. Politicians should be frightened by what these figures are saying: there is a whole stratum of young people who don’t vote, know nothing about politics and don’t feel that they belong anywhere.

Disillusionment is not solely a feature of adolescence, at least not in terms of politics. Youths who can’t see the point in voting grow into non-voting adults. As a result, Britain’s turnout record leaves a lot to be desired. The public seems to have least interest in European elections. For example, in 1979, 1984 and 1989, around one third of the electorate voted. In 1999 it was even worse – less than a quarter, making Britons the most reluctant voters in the EU.

Analysts have not undertaken any serious study of non-voting in European elections. It is generally assumed that the remoteness of the European Parliament and antipathy towards the EC/EU accounts for the low levels of participation. The unwieldy size of European constituencies also makes it very difficult for the parties – who are used to campaigning in Westminster constituencies – to work effectively on the ground in order to get voters out of their front doors and down to the polling booths.

Far more worrying is the body of statistics which shows that there is similar public apathy when it comes to electing our own governments. Turnout for the 1997 general election was 71.4 per cent, the lowest figure since 1945. Despite the unpopularity of John Major’s government, over one quarter of voters stayed at home. We are not the most apathetic country in Europe, but our turnout figures compare unfavourably with those of Spain, Sweden, Greece and Italy. If we add New Zealand, Australia and the USA to the equation, then Britain has the fourteenth poorest voting figures out of twenty nations.

This is a nationwide problem. The electoral roll doesn’t help, as there is a time lag in setting up the electoral register, which makes voting difficult for people who move around. The situation was also exacerbated by the hugely unpopular Poll Tax in the eighties, as large numbers of people took themselves off the electoral register in order to avoid paying the tax, but this predates the Poll Tax: the trend of turnouts in general elections has been downwards since a post-war high of 84 per cent in 1950.

Some elements of British society seem to be more disengaged than others. We have already seen that the young vote in disproportionately small numbers. There is also a huge variation in turnout figures when we compare different constituencies, which often ties in with levels of social deprivation, particularly with levels of unemployment. In 1997, turnout ranged from 81.1 per cent (Wirral South) to 51.6 per cent (Liverpool Riverside). In May 1997, the unemployment rate in Wirral South was 5.1 per cent, while Liverpool Riverside had a rate of 19 per cent unemployment, the third worst figure in England. In short, the poorest sections of society, those with, arguably, the most pressing reasons to make their voices heard and bring about change, are the most disillusioned with the political process and the least likely to vote.

Some of these concerns are far from new. I recently came across a fascinating book on the Chicago Mayoral election of 1923. Then, out of an electorate of 1.4 million, only 723,000 voted – a turnout of slightly under 52 per cent. Non-Voting: Causes and Methods of Control,4 looks at some familiar problems, including the public views that ‘voting changes little’ and that ‘politicians can’t be trusted’. In the twenties, though, much of the blame for poor turnout seemed to be blamed on the cowardice, laziness, ignorance or stupidity of voters.

Today, we are far more likely to look at the failings of politicians rather than voters. This is, in my view, entirely correct. We created the disillusionment, and we have to find a way to solve it. I don’t pretend it is an easy job. As the book on the Chicago 1923 election said, ‘The disillusioned voter, who believes that one vote counts for nothing, presents a difficult problem of political control. The ignorant citizen can be informed, the indifferent citizen can be stirred out of his lethargy, but the sophisticated cynic of democracy cannot be moved so easily.’

So, where do we start? Is it enough to target the young and the poor, or do we need a broader, nationwide approach to restore people’s faith in the political process? One thing is certain – until we have won people’s trust back there is no way we can claim to live in a democracy. Democracy isn’t just about everyone having the potential to change the way society works. Democracy is about a state where precisely that happens, because people are confident that their opinions matter and that they can make a difference. In a country where over a quarter of citizens don’t exercise their right to choose the new government, and where the poorest have the least inclination to improve their lot, there can be little progress, only marginal improvement.

Politicians, for the most part, are not stupid. They have long been wise to the issue of public disaffection. What has baffled them is the solution. Previously, the tactic of all politicians across Parliament, has simply been to ‘try harder’. Knock on every door, so the logic goes, appear in every newspaper and on every television programme, telling people how important it is for them to get out and vote, and you can make a change.

In this age of all-pervasive media, it is clear that this tactic is not working. It is not because people aren’t aware of the key political issues of the day, or that they are ignorant about who the key politicians are, or what they stand for.

The problem is that we are working the wrong way round. This is the crisis facing politics: people aren’t interested in voting, because they see it as a lip-service to true democracy. Individuals, families, communities, villages, towns and regions still have scant authority, and while so much power is disproportionately centred around a distant government and a single capital, it is no surprise if people are unconvinced that their vote matters. People won’t turn out to vote for a new Prime Minister until they also have a chance to wield real power in their own backyards. Respect for government will only come about once people govern themselves.

And that’s where the solution must lie. The challenge is to build a truly civic Britain, where power has been devolved to the local and regional level, and where we are playing a full role in Europe. Where people no longer expect change to come slowly and inefficiently from Westminster, but have power within their own communities and exercise it themselves. Where the can-do culture tears down the walls built by decades of disillusionment and cynicism. Until politicians stop governing on behalf of the nation and start to govern with it, politics in Britain will remain what it is today – a sheer irrelevance for larger and larger numbers of people – and the consequences for the nation will be disastrous. It will be, in a sense, a final victory for Thatcherism. We will be a nation that prefers to lock the doors, rather than see what’s happening in the street outside.

It may seem inappropriate to speak of Thatcherism ten years after the end of the Iron Lady’s reign, but eighteen years of Tory rule wrought lasting damage upon the fabric of our society, and rather than repair it, Labour has sometimes been too willing to appease the middle classes at the expense of the poor. This is not new in politics – for forty years, J. K. Galbraith has been warning of the political dangers of the affluent disregarding the poor. Without doubt, the current government is a vast improvement on the previous one, but it is dangerous that Labour has not done more to create an environment that is sympathetic to the poor. In political life it means that we face nothing short of an emergency, but to those who already feel disheartened enough to stop reading, I want to point out that crises merely provide us with an opportunity to take action. The remedy is in our hands.

We can only make the most of the future if we are clear about what we want to achieve. My aim in politics is to advance and protect the liberty of the individual, because I believe that this is the only way to achieve true democracy. That, in turn, means ensuring that all people have the maximum life chances and the maximum opportunities to make the most of their natural abilities, whatever their circumstances. How can we speak of ‘democracy’ otherwise? Rule by the people (which is the precise definition of the word) does not mean that small privileged elites exercise their power over the rest. It means that everyone has an equal capacity to exercise power, and equal liberty to govern themselves.

In this book, I shall be using the word ‘liberty’ a great deal, along with its more popular counterpart, ‘freedom’. For me, politics is the machinery by which freedom is made possible. Freedom to breathe, in a safe and clean environment. Freedom from government, by devolving power to the communities, nations and regions of Britain. Freedom to innovate, and to trade with other nations. Freedom to develop one’s talents to the full, and to raise a family in security. None of these freedoms have any validity if the people enjoying them are not also free from poverty. This, and government’s responsibility to bring it about, is my starting point.

Chapter One

FREEDOM FROM POVERTY: THE FORGOTTEN NATION

‘True individual freedom cannot exist without economic security and independence. People who are hungry and out of a job are the stuff of which dictatorships are made.’

FRANKLIN D. ROOSEVELT, 1944

In my eighteen years as an MP, I have come to learn that the most effective politicians are those acting out of a very personal sense of injustice. I am often accused of being too rational, too reasonable, of rarely showing temper. This might be the case, but that does not mean I am not motivated by very clear and firmly held convictions, beliefs I have held since I entered the House at the age of twenty-three.

By then, I had witnessed the turmoil of the three-day week and the power cuts, and I was determined that people and government should never again be held to ransom in this way. I had also seen the disparity in incomes between some of the poorer families of my home town and the better-off workers who had migrated from the central belt of Scotland to work in the Corpach pulp and paper mill, which gave me a heightened awareness of inequality and its negative effects.

This crystallized when, as a teenager, I participated in the finals of the Scottish Schools Debating Tournament. For the first time, I came across people who were of my own age but from vastly different backgrounds. The disparity in outlook and aspiration between pupils from tough inner-city Glasgow comprehensives and those from fee-paying schools in Dundee and Edinburgh seemed remarkable to me. The wealthier participants were visibly more confident and outspoken, and carried themselves with self-assurance. I did not come from an impoverished background, but this was nevertheless the first time I had ever stayed in an hotel. I was awed by the experience, and this set me apart from other youngsters who treated the place as if it were an extension of their homes.

There was no difference in intelligence or eloquence – we were all gathered there because of our debating skills. But when you asked these teenagers what they wanted to do in later life, it became clear that those from poorer backgrounds expected less, and received it. They talked about ‘a job’, ‘a house’, whereas their more affluent counterparts had a very clear sense of what ‘profession’ they wanted and where they were going to live.

The experience was an eye-opener. It was, if you like, the beginnings of my sense of injustice. It gave me a determination to tackle the deep divisions within our society, which remains unabated to this day. Labour was once regarded as the party of social justice. The party believed in providing for the poorest, and that unarguable viewpoint was the party’s keynote, for many decades. It is safe to say that prior to the 1997 general election, few voters or even card-carrying members could have told you much about Labour’s foreign policy, or its attitude to European trade. They voted Labour and they contributed to its coffers because of its stand on social issues.

This does not mean that Britain should return to Old Labour policies. The dogma of class war, nationalization and tax-and-spend for the sake of it made a major contribution to many of the problems that Britain faces today. I want no part of any New Old Labour plan, yet in throwing out the worst of its past, New Labour has forgotten many of the people it should still be serving. As Mr Blair’s close ally, John Monks put it recently, New Labour seems to be treating some of its most loyal voters like ‘embarrassing elderly relatives’ at a family party.1 It was poignant that, on the night of the first vote to cut benefits in the new 1997 Parliament, Labour ministers supped champagne at Number 10 with a host of celebrities. Of course, had the politicians in question opted for tomato juice and an early night, the problems of Britain’s poor and dispossessed would not have vanished, but as a symbol of New Labour’s concerns, the juxtaposition was as symbolic as it was crass.

In an age where favourable media coverage and a carefully managed public image are lamentably as vital to a government as its policies, it was inevitable that we would see the Blairs hobnobbing with the Gallagher brothers and playing host to the stars of Cool Britannia. They can scarcely be reproached for that. Far more insidious is the growing body of evidence that suggests New Labour’s chief concern lies in courting the approval, and the votes, of Middle England, and that, simultaneously, it has lost interest in the poorest sections of society.

Take the slogan ‘education, education, education’: Tony Blair claims that equal access to a free and high quality education is paramount in dismantling the boundaries between rich and poor. I do not disagree, but if we assume the role of auditor for a moment, and look at two very different regions of England, we immediately see significant disparities. In Cornwall, 14.9 per cent of pupils are eligible for school meals, yet since May 1997 its schools have received only £308 per pupil through the system of competitive bidding, under which Local Education Authorities and schools have to apply to central government for funds. Rutland, by contrast, is one of Britain’s richest counties, with only 6.4 per cent of pupils eligible for school meals, yet it receives £1,006 per pupil. These figures suggest that the more disadvantaged areas of the UK are doing relatively badly when it comes to education funding, while the more comfortable, vocal and consequently more powerful regions grow even stronger. When the young people of Cornwall and Rutland compete in tomorrow’s job market such disparities will inevitably have knock-on effects.

A similar trend seems to be at work when we look at unemployment figures. Since Labour came into power, the biggest drops in unemployment have been felt by the most affluent constituencies. Conversely, between the years 1996 and 1999, the constituencies where unemployment fell the least were among the poorest. Constituency unemployment figures are not the most representative way of examining poverty as a whole, but these figures suggest that affluent communities have benefited more than poorer ones under New Labour. The two constituencies with the biggest improvement were in the most affluent region of the UK, the south-east, and the two seeing the least improvement were in Lancashire, in the second poorest region.2

The government has over-trumpeted its successes in reducing unemployment. The National Institute of Social and Economic Research has concluded that of the 191,000 young people who have passed into jobs under the auspices of the New Deal since its launch in April 1998, 115,000 would probably have found work anyway, due to the strength and growth of the economy. The New Deal was Labour’s attack on unemployment, giving eighteen to twenty-four-year-olds who had been jobless for more than six months the opportunity to receive ‘in-job’ training, and offering employers incentives to give such people temporary work and training. After a four-month gateway period in which work is sought, there are various further options, including subsidized employment on short-time education and training. It marked a bold attempt to undermine the benefits culture and replace it with a work culture, but there is no point doing that when there is not enough work to go around.

In practice, the New Deal has turned out to be nothing more than a repackaging of the old Youth Training Scheme. Employers have benefited from a cheap source of temporary labour and cash sweeteners for using it, but in more than a fifth of cases, there were no real jobs for trainees to go to after the period had ended. Sixty per cent of the starters to the full-time education and training option had left by September 1999. Of the 191,000 ‘placed’ in work, at least 50,000 were back on benefits within three months of completing the scheme. The National Centre for Social Research has shown that only a quarter of New Deal leavers were continuously in employment for six months after completion of the scheme. Such figures indicate that little is being done to erode the benefits culture.

As with the boom in the eighties, there are plenty of social groups who have not benefited at all from the recent economic upturn. An estimated 1 million children live with parents who are both out of work. Labour’s policy has been to provide incentives for parents to take work, even if it is low-paid, but it is facing an uphill struggle. The British Household Panel Survey showed that between 1991 and 1997 only a quarter of couples with children who were out of work in any given year were able to find work a year later. The figure for lone parents was even more depressing – one in ten.

But there are large numbers of parents who do mini-jobs – that is, they work fewer than sixteen hours a week, which is the limit beyond which people cannot claim Income Support. The Institute for Social and Economic Research found that the more hours people put into these jobs, the more likely they were to secure a job offering more than sixteen hours work a week in the following year. It follows that government ought to be encouraging these small part-time jobs as a route into more full-time employment and out of poverty, but we still have a punitive benefits system, the principles of which have not altered for decades. People have to declare every change in their part-time earnings – even though many such jobs are ad hoc. People can also only earn between £5 and £15, depending on their circumstances, before money is deducted from their benefit. All this discourages people from taking any job that is less than full time, regardless of the opportunities it may lead to later.

In its failure to think flexibly it is no worse than previous governments, but no better either. Labour appears prepared to understand work only in terms of the traditional model of nine to five, five days a week, and benefits in terms of a weekly sum of money. And because it has stuck by this rigid perspective, people are losing out. For example, under the present system, unemployed people receive a weekly sum of money and, on top of that, a few entitlements, such as free eye check-ups and prescriptions. As soon as they stop receiving weekly benefit, the other benefits cease as well, meaning that even though they are working, they may be worse off than when they were entirely dependent upon benefits. Instead, people working a few hours a week, and all people on low incomes, should retain a range of entitlements, such as subsidized transport, free prescriptions and milk, so that they have incentives to enter and then remain within the world of work.

In 1996, Tony Blair said, ‘If the Labour government has not raised the standards of the poorest by the end of its time in office, it will have failed.’ Mr Blair made the pursuit of equality a key feature of his agenda – I do not argue with the depth and sincerity of his conviction – but the fact remains that, back in 1996, this was a subject of immediate contemporary concern. New Labour were characteristically astute in capturing the mood of the nation. It is still an important issue in the nation’s eyes, but it would be even more so if the government made a crusade of the issue.

It is easy to see why it was such a public preoccupation. In 1992, an estimated 13.7 million people were living on breadline benefit or on half the average wage. This amounted to one quarter of the population of Britain. UNICEF warned that Britain’s children were the worst off in Europe. By 1994, 4.2 million – roughly one third – of the children in Britain belonged to families living below the poverty line. Meanwhile, the gap between rich and poor had widened. By 1994, the wealthiest 5.5 million people in GB (i.e. the richest 10 per cent) were an average £650 better off for every thousand pounds they had earned in 1979. But the poorest ten per cent were worse off. For every £1,000 they had had in 1979, they now had £860.3