Politics

Deposing Jeremy Corbyn won't save Labour

Britain’s progressive forces are weaker than at any time for almost half a century

September 21, 2015
Labour party deputy leader Tom Watson (left) and party leader Jeremy Corbyn. © Stefan Rousseau/PA Wire/Press Association Images
Labour party deputy leader Tom Watson (left) and party leader Jeremy Corbyn. © Stefan Rousseau/PA Wire/Press Association Images

Britain’s progressive forces are weaker than at any time for almost half a century. This is not just a commentary on Labour’s choice of leader and the Liberal Democrats’ dreadful election result in May. YouGov’s latest voting intention figures, for the Sunday Times, make grim reading for anyone who backs any of the Britain-wide left-of-centre parties. Labour, on 31 per cent, is stuck where it was four months ago; the Lib Dems (6 per cent) and Greens (3 per cent) are both down. Their combined support of 40 per cent is three points down on May’s general election.

In contrast, the Conservatives (39 per cent) and Ukip (16 per cent) have both gained ground. Together the two right-of-centre parties enjoy a 15 point lead (55-40 per cent), almost double their combined eight-point lead in May (51-43 per cent).

Could this be because the government is enjoying a post-election honeymoon? Not really. If we compare the position with that in late September 2010, one week after Ed Miliband was elected Labour’s leader, progressive parties held a 13 point lead, with 55 per cent support, compared with 41 per cent for the Right. Both Labour (41 per cent) and the Lib Dems (11 per cent) were much more popular then than they are now—and, in the case of Lib Dems, this was after losing more than half their support following their decision to join the Conservatives in coalition.

We have to go back to May 1968 to find a comparable lead for Right over Left. This was at the lowest ebb for Harold Wilson’s government. It has not recovered from the humiliation of devaluing the pound six months earlier. It was widely criticised for its policies on Vietnam and southern Africa. Students in Paris were on their way to bringing down France’s President de Gaulle. Across Europe political establishments were being challenged as never before. America’s Democrats were bitterly divided. May 1968 was a bad time in much of the democratic world to be an orthodox centre-left politician.

What we are seeing today does not produce the equivalent news pictures of wars, riots, strikes and assassinations. (The sight of Syrian refugees seeking a new home in Europe is certainly dramatic but does not—yet—have a comparable effect on domestic politics.) Rather, we are witnessing voters reacting to a summer of political failure on Britain’s left.

In the past, the fortunes of Labour and the Lib Dems have tended to head in opposite directions. When Labour has been weak, the Lib Dems have usually done well; when Labour has been strong, the Lib Dems have often struggled. Occasionally (as in 1997 and 2001) both have done well together. What is unprecedented in modern times is for both to fail together. It happened in May when both parties lost significant numbers of seats; and despite both parties electing new leaders, their plight has got worse.

I suspect that something fundamental is happening—something that can’t be stopped by institutional responses alone, such as splitting the Labour Party or tempting Labour MPs to convert to the Lib Dems. Britain’s centre-left has an identity crisis. It no longer really knows what it stands for. Jeremy Corbyn’s election is a symptom of this confusion. Today’s centre-left lacks a shared doctrine that can persuade and inspire Britain’s voters. As a result, men and women with no strong tribal loyalties are shifting to the Right in unprecedented numbers. The centre-left needs to develop an agreed prospectus for progressive politics in the 21st century. Deposing Jeremy Corbyn is a necessary but very far from sufficient condition.