The sound of silence

Whatever the merits of the slow start—and it is far too early to measure its strategic success—there is no doubt that the quiet, almost subdued beginning was part of the plan. From the day he was elected Labour leader, Ed Miliband described his party’s journey to recovery as a “long haul.” That, in his judgement, ruled out starting with a rush of pyrotechnic activity that could soon fizzle out. “One hundred days of dynamic action” is an option only available to governments. Franklin Roosevelt pushed 15 bills through Congress during his first three months as president. Perhaps, had he been in office, Miliband would have done the same: beginning, as FDR began, with an emergency banking bill. As leader of the opposition, the best he could have done was make 15 speeches—and risk looking like a tyro, desperate to establish himself in the minds of the British people, who barely knew him, and the hearts of the Labour MPs who voted for his brother.

However, if he is judged by what he has said, rather than by his silence, Miliband’s first 100 days, culminating on 4th January, were a success. Above all, he has signalled that he is his own man. His acceptance speech at the Manchester conference offended Blairites by making clear that he would not oppose justice minister Kenneth Clarke’s plans to reduce the prison population. Miliband has said also that, if there is a referendum on electoral reform, he will—despite the general disposition of the Labour party—give his support to introducing the alternative vote. He has acknowledged old Labour errors. The invasion of Iraq was a tragic mistake, and the Labour government placed too much naive faith in the competence and public spirit of the banks. He has even expressed his belief in a more equal society: the defining principle of social democracy, but anathema to new Labour. From all of this, it’s clear that “Red Ed,” supposedly the creature of the trade unions, wants to carve a different path. Note, too, that the Labour party does not always demand to hear more from its leaders: often, in the past, there has been a barely disguised hope that they would say less.

Miliband’s approach has not been without its disadvantages. During the months of low-key opposition following the election—the weeks of the agonisingly slow party leadership campaign, combined with the subdued start to the new reign—Cameron and Clegg have dominated the media. But not all publicity is good publicity. The more Clegg explained away his volte face on student tuition fees, the lower his party sank in the polls. At the same time, however, the coalition’s virtually unchallenged claim that Britain’s financial deficit is the sole responsibility of the last Labour government has succeeded in obscuring a basic truth: that the banking crisis was not confined to this country. There must be a clean break from the economic errors of the Labour government, particularly its faith in unregulated markets. But the public needs to be reminded that it was a Labour prime minister, Gordon Brown, who led the G20—some of its members fiercely resisting—towards a global response to what might have become a global catastrophe. Labour has been far too timid, too, in its treatment of the overblown and eminently deflatable Chancellor George Osborne.

Where now? The party urgently needs a set of policies to pit against the legislative stream coming out of Whitehall. Perhaps the various “spokespersons” are waiting for the conclusion of the numerous policy reviews before they say or write anything positive. If so, that is a great mistake. The boldest and most creative members of the shadow cabinet must learn to fill the policy vacuum with ideas of their own, rather than simply attacking whatever the government proposes. During the last three months, too much has been said in reaction to government announcements—ensuring that the initiative remains with ministers. The success of the Miliband opposition depends on the party having both an alternative vision and an alternative programme.

According to his supporters, Ed Miliband won the Labour leadership election as the candidate of conviction. He cannot—even if he wished to—repudiate that role now, so he is obliged to construct a new programme which, while it may offend new Labour ultras, convinces the voting public that Labour is a party of principle again.

Tony Blair used to justify contentious policies with warnings that the alternative was electoral defeat. Blairites—who have spent so much time since Miliband became leader whispering to journalists about their dissatisfaction—now need to face the fact that Labour can win the next election only if it abandons the cynicism of “triangulation” and all the other bogus philosophies that accompanied the “third way.”

Ed Miliband’s first 100 days were, in terms of Labour’s prospects, far less important than the period which began on 15th January. That was the day, in a speech to the Fabian Society, when he began to make it clear what he stood for. “Parties don’t suffer defeats like the one we suffered last May because of an accumulation of small errors,” he said. “They do so by making serious mistakes... We have to show that we have learned lessons if the British people are to trust us again.”

Yet his speech was only a tentative start. Soon, very soon, he must set out the principles which will define his own leadership. Until he does that, every criticism of past Labour policy and assault on the government’s plans will be greeted with accusations of opportunism.

Miliband was chosen to chart a new way forward. Now is the time to set out that route. Napoleon’s first “100 days” ended with Waterloo and his exile to St Helena. If he is true to himself and his principles, Miliband’s more cautious approach march could be the first stage on the road to Downing Street.