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On Sincerity

/ Tom King / Leave a comment

I often lament the fact that I have grown up as part of the most ironic generation of all time. The so-called “millennials” are surely characterised most of all by their sub-absurdist approach to everything, whether it is in trivial matters of appearance or in serious matters of the heart or of the head.

As Stewart Lee once put it in If You Prefer a Milder Comedian Please Ask For One (not verbatim, so apologies if this is inaccurate), the last taboo in comedy is someone on stage “attempting to do something sincerely and well”. He says this as he prepares to exorcise the villainy of advertising by playing his favourite song, Galway Girl, which was ruined in and by a well known cider advert.

I often think he’s bang on the money. It’s not just comedy though. It’s the whole of life. People find Lee divisive because he stands outside comedy even as he participates in it. Yet that is how people of my age and younger seem to deal with everything, especially the things that truly matter.

As someone who aspires to be a creative person from time to time, I find this crippling. The self-consciousness that characterises modern life in the UK is suffocating. The temptation to laugh at oneself, let alone at others, is overwhelming. Yet this must be resisted, even in the face of accusations of pretension. The reality is that not everything is pretentious or inherently insincere, however much our absurdist culture likes to think so.

What prompted this? The experience of listening to Sufjan Stevens’ masterpiece, released today, entitled Carrie & Lowell.

An album about grieving his estranged mother, it strikes at the heart of what it means to be human and to be a complex man of sometimes tenuous faith. It is painfully honest, so much so that at times one feels almost as if one is intruding on something that should have remained private.

I wrote this about it elsewhere:

This album is triumphant: bleak, gut-wrenchingly honest, full of grief and doubt, but at the same time strangely resolute. When I hear it, I don’t want him – or anyone – to have experienced the incidents, situations and emotions that formed him into the person that made this record. But at the same time, it’s quite easily the best record he’s ever made, and probably the best record he’ll ever make. He must feel extremely equivocal about having created it (something that’s apparent in the interviews he’s been doing around the album, but also in some of the moments on the album itself, like the exhausted exhalation at the end of John My Beloved).

It’s times like these that you realise what inferior art is for; to give creations like these the backdrop they deserve, like a diamond on a black velvet display board.

It is not enough to live vicariously through the sincerity – the bravery – of others. Those people who are willing to put their heads above the parapet in creative or cultural terms, and get shot at for their trouble, are meant to inspire us. Ultimately they should challenge those of us who are lazy enough to believe that it’s ok merely to snipe at others and wear a mask ourselves. To my shame, that has described me for most of my life.

I don’t want to do it any more.

A Further Thought on #LabourMugs

/ Tom King / 1 Comment

Over the weekend, there was discussion of a certain product being offered on the Labour Party website. Specifically, it was a mug in glorious Fabian red, for the princely sum of £5, bearing the words of Labour’s fourth most important policy (if we are to assume that their pledge card is ranked in order of priority): “Controls on Immigration”.

Labour’s now infamous mug

Various people, including me, commented on the unpleasantness of the mug itself. This then led of course to further discussion of the pledge, and the fact that it is a marker for quite how far the Labour Party is prepared to go in abandoning any pretence of liberalism, or, indeed, “solidarity” that extends beyond the UK’s borders. A final irony is that the other four pledges Labour are making are heavily reliant on continuing high levels of migration, so that the UK can get the workers it needs. After all, as we know, migrants (especially those from the EU) have a far more positive impact on the UK’s fiscal state than UK-born citizens.

Of course, there has been a backlash to the criticism, although it’s been relatively muted. Ed Balls has been out and about defending the policy (and the mug) today, although other senior members of the Labour Shadow Cabinet have indicated their displeasure at the merchandise.

I’ve noticed that some of the backlash has been based on the same lie as the policy itself. The very phrase “controls on immigration”, of course, implies that at the moment we don’t have any. This has been reflected in the response by some people to the Twitterati’s anger: Hugo Rifkind, for example, asking Julian Huppert whether the Lib Dem position was “that there should be no controls on immigration”. I’ve seen other people asking broadly the same question; does opposing “controls on immigration” mean supporting “open borders”?

Quite obviously, this isn’t the case. The Lib Dems are of course the only major party in the UK as a whole to talk positively about immigration on a regular basis. But that doesn’t mean that the party supports open borders. For example, in government, we have been attempting to reintroduce exit checks despite the Home Office’s incompetence and intransigence.

But the wider point is more important still. What Labour are doing is simply capitulation. They have thrown in the towel and gone along with the pervasive lie that claims the UK is open to the elements and all sorts of nefarious types have come in to ruin things. This is the lie perpetrated most effectively by UKIP, and before them, the BNP.

We are now living in a country where the three parties polling highest are willing to blame our problems on immigrants. And it’s so uncontroversial that they can sell cheap tat telling you so. It’s a suggestion beloved of such people that we haven’t had a debate about immigration, but the truth is they don’t want one. Because everything’s simpler when you can blame it on someone else.

In Defence of the Fixed Term Parliaments Act 2011

/ Tom King / 2 Comments

Much has been said, and much written, about the Fixed Term Parliaments Act 2011 (“the Act”). It has been a vexed piece of legislation since it first glinted in the government’s eye.

What is the Fixed Term Parliaments Act?

The contents page of the Fixed Term Parliaments Act 2011

For those who aren’t familiar with it – and, let’s be honest, why should you be, if you’re not a die-hard political geek like me – it’s a law introduced by the coalition government in 2011. It does some very simple things:

  1. It set the date of the next general election – 7th May 2015. It also set out the date for every general election thereafter – the 1st Thursday in May, every five years.
  2. It says general elections can only be held on other dates if:
    1. At least 66% of the House of Commons votes for a motion for one, or
    2. A motion of no confidence is passed, and no alternative government is formed within 14 days.

While there’s a requirement for the Prime Minister of the day to review the Act in 2020, there is no “sunset clause” meaning that the law applies indefinitely unless a government repeals or amends it.

What’s so great about the Fixed Term Parliaments Act?

You are probably asking what’s so great about it. I think it does three very good things.

Firstly, it takes power away from the government of the day. Previously, British politics has been dominated by speculation over when the Prime Minister of the day will call the next general election. Generally speaking, this is highly distracting and can even lead to a kind of “phoney war” where parties mistakenly begin preparing for an election that never arrives. The most famous recent example was Gordon Brown’s decision not to call a snap election in 2007, a decision that took so long in coming that the Labour Party had apparently already committed hundreds of thousands of pounds to publicity for the campaign. In my view it is far better for the date of the election to be locked in by law, preventing capricious decisions made in the narrow political interests of the Prime Minister and his party.

Secondly, and following on from the previous point, it has a profound impact on the ability of government and Parliament to plan the scrutiny and passage of new laws. Before the Act, the very end of Parliaments were characterised by something called “the wash-up”. This was a highly unsatisfactory period in which governments would attempt to pass legislation at the last minute – usually by colluding with opposition whips. In 2010, a particularly egregious and opaque “wash-up” led to the passage of several controversial Bills, including most famously the Digital Economy Act 2010 – a hugely flawed attack, both politically and technically, on digital rights and internet access. In contrast, in 2015, there was no such “wash-up”, as all major Parliamentary business was completed in time and with full scrutiny. This is a very positive step forward.

Thirdly, the provisions of the Act create an incentive for parties to work together. As described above, one way an election could be called under the terms of the Act is if there is agreement across the House of Commons that one is necessary and timely. That is not impossible, but it is highly unlikely – can you imagine a time at which both the Tories and Labour agreed that a general election was desirable?

Instead, the political parties will be forced to work together to avoid the damaging instability of a vote of no confidence. Minority parties will have to think very hard before taking decisions that might bring down the government. It would not be in their interests as they are less able to fight general elections – they have neither the funds nor the national organisation to tilt a second time, and perhaps with little warning. Meanwhile, large parties will be conscious that if they are seen to have created instability by the electorate, they are likely to be punished at the ballot box.

So why do some people dislike the Fixed Term Parliaments Act?

Some commentators have argued that the Act needs to be repealed. As far as I can tell, there are a few reasons for this.

  1. They want the power to call a general election to revert to the Sovereign as a so-called “prerogative power” rather than a statutory one.
  2. They are scared of the possibility that a new government might be formed without a general election having been called.
  3. They believe that the Act was itself a stitch-up designed to protect the Lib Dems in coalition, and prevent an early election during the current Parliament.
  4. They think the Act creates situations in which smaller parties can hold larger ones to ransom with the threat of a vote of no confidence.

These are quite easy to rebut. The first objection is just a hangover from the old stale duopoly. Generally speaking, it’s propounded by people who belong to either Labour or the Tories and want their guy (Cameron or Miliband) to be able to call an election whenever he feels like it. They dress this up in dry constitutional language – hinting at deep respect for Her Majesty and her right to appoint a government – but the reality is much simpler.

The second one? That happens in other countries all the time. It’s only controversial here because it would be relatively new. Although we should note that in actual fact it’s happened twice in recent history – it just so happened that we had new Prime Ministers who were taking over from other people in their own party. John Major in 1990 and Gordon Brown in 2007 both created effectively “new governments” without winning an election; Brown was often referred to as an “unelected Prime Minister” but no one seriously questioned the constitutional legitimacy of his tenure.

Thirdly, there might be some truth to the idea that the Act was conducive to stability of the coalition. I’m not sure that’s in itself a bad thing, to be honest. But the Lib Dems had supported fixed term parliaments for decades prior to 2010, and had most recently attempted to introduce them in 2008. No one can really blame us for being slightly opportunistic on constitutional reform – especially when other parts of their reform agenda imploded so spectacularly.

And what about the fourth objection? Again, it feels like the death throes of a dying system. Why precisely should a party that wins barely a third of the popular vote hold the whip hand? Why shouldn’t it have to negotiate and talk to other parties in order to achieve the changes it wants to see? And, in the same way, why shouldn’t smaller parties, who exist for a purpose after all, attempt to exert the maximum pressure possible on behalf of their supporters and constituents?

The Party and the Government that Confounded Expectations

/ Tom King / 3 Comments

Today marked the end of what was surely one of the most surprising Parliaments in modern British history. If we were to rewind the clock five years to the start of the short campaign in 2010, you would find few – if any – political watchers willing to agree that there would be a formal coalition government. I suggest you would find absolutely none at all who would be willing to concede it might last a full five years.

Reading back over the commentary of a breathless and rather stunned media, reacting to the initial coalition agreement and that infamous Dave ‘n’ Nick double act in the Downing Street rose garden, there was immense scepticism even after the deal was struck that it would go even half the distance. From all sides of the political divide, the pessimistic predictions rolled in.

What’s striking, too, is that they carried on coming. Even two years later, with a huge amount of policy already implemented – some of it highly radical and some of it politically damaging (academies, tuition fees, the AV referendum) – the belief that there would be an unnatural end was still widespread. This, despite the fact that the government had also already put in place the Fixed Term Parliament Act, which would act as a monumental barrier to any precipitate uncoupling. Yet in August 2012, less than a fifth of voters believed that the coalition would continue to 2015, according to an ICM poll; even such a celebrated political columnist as Peter Oborne had predicted portentously in March of that year that this “fine” government would not see out 2013.

Yet here we are. March 30th, 2015, and the coalition has completed its work. For my party, the Liberal Democrats, it has been a bruising, painful and largely thankless challenge. Contrary to much lazy opinion, there was little triumphalism as the party collectively took that decision; there was a shared knowledge that it would be tough – perhaps critically so – and that by entering government there was every prospect that the smaller party would lose its identity.

Remarkably, that hasn’t happened. Although the Lib Dems are likely to be severely denuded on May 7th – losing perhaps more than half our seats – the party’s identity remains intact. To me, as someone who resigned his membership in 2012, only to rejoin in 2014, this is highly impressive. What is more, the credit is shared across a wide spectrum of party figures, both inside and outside government. In government there have been important victories for Ministers such as Steve Webb (pensions), Jo Swinson (expanded employment rights such as parental leave), Vince Cable (expansion of apprenticeships and, yes, a tuition fees system that is fairer than the last one), Lynne Featherstone (SSM and FGM), Norman Lamb (mental health), Norman Baker (drugs policy review), and more. Nick Clegg was personally responsible for the constitutional reform agenda – which didn’t go so well – but can also take personal credit for some of the big manifesto-based wins, such as the pupil premium. Danny Alexander can be proud of his involvement in achieving a larger income tax cut for basic rate taxpayers than even the Lib Dems themselves had planned in 2010. Meanwhile, outside government there have been key MPs and members fighting to maintain the party’s independent spirit and identity in the face of constant attacks.

Lib Dems can be proud of what their party has achieved over the past five years. It hasn’t been perfect by any means. But my criteria for being an active member of a political party are threefold:

  1. I want a party that works in and for the national interest – not primarily its own, or those of a select group rather than society as a whole.
  2. I want a party that broadly embodies my own views on a diverse range of issues – principally the economy, civil liberties, the environment, and the place of the UK in the world. (That’s by no means all of them.)
  3. I want a party that is willing to work with others in good faith, even if the process is painful. Because that’s how the best decisions tend to get made.

By all three measures the Lib Dems remain the party for me, and I am more confident of that than I was in 2010. As some more enlightened commentators are belatedly pointing out, they deserve some credit from voters for their troubles. They, and by extension, the government they have been a vital part of, have confounded expectations