A resurgent Right

After their triumph in the British general elections in May, the Conservatives, says Jeremy Seabrook, are continuing with their project of dismantling 150 years of work of the labour movement, philanthropists and reformers against unbridled capitalism.

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THERE has been much discussion since the election in Britain (which resulted in a small Conservative overall majority) about whether the Labour Party has now served its historic purpose. Will Labour, formed when more than two-thirds of the workers of this country were engaged in industrial production, ever come to power again, particularly now that Scotland has turned to a nationalism which is not going to be quickly reversed? [The Scottish National Party (SNP) won 56 of Scotland's 59 seats.]

This apocalyptic view of Labour is not new. Half a century ago, in 1959, after the third Conservative electoral victory in a row, the Daily Mirror asked whether Labour had not become redundant in the modern world. In 1978, I wrote a book called What Went Wrong?, which asked how the Labour movement's vision of fairness and sufficiency had become indistinguishable from capitalism's demand for permanent growth. After Margaret Thatcher won three consecutive elections in the 1980s, it was widely assumed that Labour had, once again, had its day. If it returned in 1997, the legend goes, this was because Tony Blair had captured 'the centre ground' and Labour had shed its roots and forsworn its own radical instincts.

Will the obituaries of the Labour Party prove premature once more? Manufacturing industry in Britain is now a residual activity; services - including financial services - account for three-quarters of economic activity. The party of Labour, which came into existence to challenge, even to replace, the power of capital, has been swallowed up by its enemy, so that the only ideological dispute left in a rich post-industrial country is between Conservatives and Liberals. The greatest 'radical' threat comes from a xenophobic, nationalistic Far Right.

The faltering of Labour this time is reinforced by the prolonged process of finding a successor to party leader Ed Miliband: during the four months this requires, the Conservatives have expressed their new invasion of a 'centre ground' which, even in the golden era of Thatcher, would have been seen as well to the right. While invoking their 'mandate' from the British people, triumphal and barely concealing their contempt for an electorate so easily frightened into accepting their view of the world, they have audaciously proclaimed themselves the new party of the workers, with promises to raise the minimum wage by almost a third during the term of this parliament. (They have rebranded it 'a living wage'.) At the same time, they are cutting benefits to the low-paid, which will leave a majority of those they claim to have befriended, worse off. Benefits are to be cut for people with disability, the young and asylum-seekers. Only the over-65s, of whom a great majority vote Conservative, are to be spared the rigours of further sacrifice. They have declared war on the BBC (a nest of pinko liberals), sought to reintroduce fox-hunting with dogs, and expressed their intention of withdrawing from the European Convention on Human Rights (this has been 'postponed', following dissent among Tory MPs). They are also making it harder for trade unions to go on strike: where Thatcher hit the unions by abolishing the industrial base, the new government aims to destroy public sector unions by privatising yet more of the public sector. The referendum on continued adherence to the European Union is to proceed; an institution which has also managed to alienate the Left in Britain, with its disgraceful humiliation and ideologically driven punishment of Greece.

The Conservatives appear effortlessly to have resumed their age-old role as 'natural leaders' of the country. But of course, nothing stands still in the world. Old struggles yield, new ones define themselves. Globalisation brings other actors into play. It may be that the future of Britain lies between a parochial, nostalgic nationalism, characterised by the United Kingdom Independence Party (or some version of it), which won four million votes, and the internationalism of Green parties (the Greens received 1.1 million votes), dedicated to social justice and environmental integrity which no other political formation can match. Epochal change is in the air; existing parties are perhaps no match for the issues of the age. Instead of lamenting the passing of archaic conflicts, should progressives concentrate upon defining the new ones emerging from a world of planetary overheating - both material and social - the abuse of resources, unsustainable inequality and a form of development that exacerbates it?

There is no doubt that Britain is deeply divided. The gulf between rich and poor has reverted to that of the late 19th century, but political attitudes towards this cleavage have changed dramatically. It is no longer a matter of the arrogant rich grinding the faces of the poor. Wealth has become an object of universal veneration, so that many have-nots vote for parties ostensibly against their own interests, in the hope, perhaps, that some of the wealth they do not possess may reach them if they display due deference to the rich. Today's 'possessing classes' are neither the landed interests of a traditional aristocratic ruling elite nor the class of industrialists who grew rich on the workers of the industrial heartlands of Scotland, Wales and the North. Rich now are significant cohorts of people who have 'come up from nowhere', who leapt to fame through some spectacular talent - singers, actors, sportsmen and women, social celebrities, TV 'personalities', as well as entrepreneurs in the service sector who have assumed many functions formerly carried out by public bodies. Lucre has lost the epithet 'filthy', while the 'rich', no longer stinking, now exude an angelic fragrance.

This has been possible because the poor are no longer a majority, and it is now easy to mobilise vengeful majorities against those who live 'on welfare', 'state handouts', what is widely seen as the misplaced largesse of the welfare state. The political consequences of these developments cannot be overestimated, any more than can the emergence of Scottish, Welsh and English nationalisms (Ireland has its own turbulent history in this connection). These ideologies quickly occupy spaces evacuated by vanquished socialist, secular visions of social improvement and progress. It is one thing to say that the SNP is 'to the left of Labour', but what is the mystical content of 'Scottishness', shorn of the encumbrance of its English neighbour? That the exaltations of nationalism should have appeared in the heart of a sometime United Kingdom, given the damage these have wrought in Europe over time, scarcely encourages a belief that the SNP is a harbinger of equality, justice and peace.

If belief in 'social' progress has receded, this is because its place has been taken by faith in technology, considered a more reliable and tangible indicator of improvements. And indeed, the air is full of panegyrics to the technical possibilities of the future - not only the wonders of communication, but promises of longevity unheard of, miracle cures for ancient diseases, interplanetary travel, an end of pain and indefinite postponement of death. Against such miracles, who is going to be moved by such pallid social programmes as distributive justice and greater equality? Popular imagination is, it seems, more susceptible to the promises (and even the superstitions) of technology than to any dull policies of social betterment. Technology has seized the imagination of a new generation as a source of personal self-betterment; even when it does create networks and communities dedicated to social action, this is a far cry from older solidarities committed to social transformation.

The politics of fear

Although the election was conducted on a level of breathtaking superficiality, underlying it are deeper economic and social mutations. This Conservative 'coup' was achieved by 37% of the popular vote (24% of all potential electors) against a meagre 30% for the Labour opposition. The politics of fear lay at the root of this apparent endorsement of inequality, punitive policies towards the poor, the casualisation and de-securitisation of the labour force. But fear of what precisely? Not of terrorism, which scarcely figured in the election; not fear of the waves of migrants rescued or perishing in the Mediterranean, where the privileged of Europe meet the casualties of globalisation in cerulean seas running with blood and golden beaches tainted by corpses; not fear of Britain's social and moral subsidence in the world. The scare tactic of the Conservatives was the spectre of a coalition between an aggressive Scottish National Party and the mild leftish proposals of Ed Miliband, son of a Jewish Marxist refugee intellectual. The leitmotif was that Labour had 'ruined' Britain by its profligacy in government. The collapse of the global financial system had been successfully laid at Labour's door, so that to entrust 'the economy' - that fragile convalescent - to the hands of Labour and Scottish nationalists would jeopardise everything the Conservative-Liberal Democrat coalition had achieved with such pain between 2010 and 2015.

Two things impeded what might have been an even more resounding triumph for David Cameron - the European Union and immigration. In 2010, Cameron had promised to reduce immigration to 'the tens of thousands'. In the event, 2014 saw a net gain of 300,000 immigrants, most from the European Union. The theory was that by reducing the number of people 'on benefit' and compelling them to work, there would be no need to recruit foreigners for jobs British people could adequately perform. The resolve to reduce immigration went hand in hand with drastic cuts in welfare spending. This was, in theory, the economic 'miracle': if not the dead, then at least the disabled, the sick and the weak would rise from their beds and walk into work; and the number of migrants would dwindle accordingly.

The cuts were duly implemented: benefits of those who refused to comply with draconian rules for showing their readiness to work, were stopped. More than a million people had recourse to food banks and other charitable relief. Many took up a bogus 'self-employment', which led to a convenient diminution in the unemployment figures; others threw themselves on the mercy of relatives and friends. A few, declared by private companies appointed to assess their capability for work, died soon after being told they were fit. Some killed themselves. But the employment of 'immigrants', mainly from the EU, increased, ironically feeding the very 'success' Cameron claimed. 

In its welfare cuts, the government astutely deployed a rhetoric of 'reform'. Now reform has a long and honourable tradition in Britain. It suggests extension of the franchise, government legislation to reduce the hours of labour, to protect people from poverty, exploitative labour and insecurity; and the greatest reform of all, which was the establishment of the welfare state. But the coalition of Conservatives and Liberal Democrats meant liberating people not from slums, misery and deprivation, but from the very institution that was to have eliminated these things. Conservative rhetoric was about delivering people from 'welfare dependency', a stultifying reliance on 'handouts', a debilitating existence on 'benefits'. They spoke the language of 'reform', but their project was precisely the dismantling of 150 years of work of the labour movement, philanthropists and reformers against the economic violence of unbridled capitalism. Theirs is a work of restoration; and now, free of troublesome Liberal Democrat partners, they can pursue this noble ambition unhindered.

In this celebration of our highest freedom, we learnt that the percentage of voters who actually went to poll was 66%; given seven million or so unregistered, this probably means that a little over 50% of those eligible actually bothered to vote. Non-voters, the dead souls of democracy, if they combined, could form a majority party. Who can say whether its policies would be more baleful than those boasting of their triumph and its illiberal, regressive and narrow prospectus?

The Conservatives were as astonished as everyone else by their own victory. Elected for alleged 'economic competence', they have been quick to indicate how they will continue to 'balance the books'. Some œ12 billion more in welfare cuts were disclosed in July: they involve 13 million families losing about œ300 a year, and three million losing more than œ1,000. Some of the migrants perishing in the Mediterranean will be 'rescued', but none will be offered asylum in Britain. Britain will contribute nothing to the 'bailout' of Greece. A narrowing of horizons with a widening of rhetoric about Britain 'punching above its weight' has set the tone for the next five years.

The offer of 'more devolution' to Scotland is unlikely to satisfy the SNP. The promise to 'renegotiate' terms on which Britain will remain in the EU will not appease many Conservative backbenchers and may be voted down by the electorate. It is possible that the legacy of David Cameron will be a truncated United Kingdom and a mutilated Europe; an England adrift, nurtured by imperial nostalgia, and kept afloat by secretive cabals of transnational companies, banks, hedge funds and financial manipulators; Downton Abbey occupied by the gangsters of globalism.                             

Jeremy Seabrook is a freelance journalist based in the UK. His latest book is The Song of the Shirt (published by Navayana).

*Third World Resurgence No. 298/299, June/July 2015, pp 57-59