Nine years ago I wrote a piece called 'Labour Must Die!'
which made a minor splash in various places, most oddly on the website of the
'liberal-interventionist' Euston Manifesto, where it can still be found as well as here. My
Gramscian critique of New Labour sat rather uncomfortably alongside arguments
for extending 'western democracy' to ever more remote and dusty parts of a
generally unreceptive world. A lot's happened in the meantime: the 2008 crash
and subsequent slump, the decay of the Blair/Brown project and the electoral
defeat of New Labour in 2010, the neo-Thatcherite induced austerity of the Con/Lib coalition, the Eurozone crisis
etcetera. On a personal level I finished the PhD of which my article was a
snapshot, and got it published as a book 'The Politics of New Labour' (2011)
which has sold moderately well and played some small part in the post-mortem.
My first novel 'Gramsci in Love', which offers an account of my intellectual
hero's tortured love-life, is about to be published. I am even less engaged in
the sterile routines of party politics than back then.
So, nine years on, must Labour still die? Well, on a
simply existential basis, the Labour Party survives to fight yet more elections
and chase more headlines, so obviously it hasn't quite died yet. But on any
objective measure it's not exactly thriving either. Membership briefly rose
post-Blair/Brown but has since levelled off. Most local Labour organisations
are 'hollowed-out' or moribund, and heavily reliant on elected councillors or
paid officials with a vested financial interest in their 'political' activity.
Joining the Labour Party is now a pretty strange thing to do, even in the
conditions of opposition when indignant leftists historically 'return to the
fold'. Performance in elections, by-elections and opinion polls is pretty
lacklustre, to the extent that 'the Labour vote' is less responsive to the pull
and push of the party machine than at any time in its 100 year-plus history.
The ideology of Labourism, with its experiential base in the manual work which
hardly anyone in this country does any more, and its organisational basis in
the trades unionism which is now largely confined to the public services, looks
increasingly shallow and ineffectual. It lives on in the ghostly 'cultural'
forms of football, light entertainment and xenophobia, but struggles for clear
political expression. The subaltern heartlands of northern England are palpably
depressed and taciturn.
As for actual Labour, quite frankly I don't really care one
way or another. It simply continues to slide into historical irrelevance,
and I don't see what the career
prospects of a bunch of blustering, boring Oxford PPE graduates and ex-special
advisers, led by a strange man who is both old before his time and stuck in
perpetual adolescence, have to do with me and my life or even my country. If
they want to spend their lives shouting at Tories and conspiring in corridors,
that's up to them, but I cannot see what possible benefit the rest of us derive
from such shenanigans. Labour makes even less of an impact on daily life out
here in the real world than it ever did; increasingly what they do feels like
make-believe. To sum up – it seems to me that my question of nine years ago has
expanded way beyond its original focus. Any prospect of social transformation
or even sustained economic recovery in Britain now requires the death of not
just Labour but the whole of what constitutes 'politics' in our debased,
exhausted, post-pretty-much-everything age. Quite what form the politics of
post-politics will take is wholly unclear, and I don't think we should get too
carried away with 'social media' and all the other techno-fixes of late
capitalism, but one way or another it will always be about people getting
together and taking action to improve their lives and prospects; something the
Labour Party has signally and consistently failed to do.
Andrew Pearmain is a historian and author of 'The Politics
of New Labour' (2011) and 'Gramsci in Love' (2015)
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