Philip Blond’s Red Toryism and Maurice Glasman’s Blue Labour contain essentially the same sentiments: nostalgic communitarianism. These new narratives are understandable attempts to show empathy with those who feel left behind and short-changed by the Thatcherite revolution, to reconnect with those who shunned politics and stopped voting some time ago. Hungry to hoover up potential electoral support, the ideas have gained currency among Westminster strategists.
But these philosophies risk lionising some dated and illiberal assumptions which do nothing to help the most vulnerable flourish in today’s society. Peter Mandelson, in The Guardianyesterday, was right to say: “Blue Labour’s…romantic ideas about working class people turning back the clock is misplaced." Though certain elements have appeal, the overarching narratives of Red Toryism and Blue Labour are not progressive. They may even be dangerous.
Both celebrate the white, working-class communities of a “golden age.” Back then, apparently, neighbourliness and civic society were vibrant. Employment was full and stable. Families stayed together. Blond states: “Our parents will tell us that things truly were better before: that children really were polite, that people really did know their neighbours, and that, yes, whole families really did stay together and form lasting bonds with their relations.”
Specific dates for this special era, however, are not given. It was before the advent of “new left” social liberalism in the 1960s—which then morphed into economic liberalism in the 1980s—both of which, it is argued, fatally undermined morals and fractured communities. And it was definitely before the “remote, bossy and managerial” welfare state in 1945, which undermined responsibility and solidarity. So we are left to decipher that this blessed age was sometime in the pre-war period, with both philosophies even implying it was before industrialization—before the enclosure of lands and “proletarianisation of the peasantry.”
Such nostalgia has appeal, especially to Westminster folk who like to show they are listening. I think of my granddad: he looks back with glee to when he played trumpet for the local miners association brass band. Now, he lives an atomised life centered around the nuclear family but not the local neighborhood, bewildered and resentful of new arrivals from different countries. He blames the Tories for closing the pits, and thinks Labour just opened the floodgates to cheap workers from Europe.
In many respects, however, life has improved in these communities. And we don’t say this enough. Yes, there has been a hollowing out of the labour market, with many stable, skilled, well-paid jobs lost when mining and manufacturing collapsed. But many people from working class communities, and especially their children, have moved into jobs—often with higher pay and demanding higher skills—in the services industries, the public sector or hi-tech manufacturing, all boasting better working conditions.
Health and life expectancy, though still not good enough, have improved. As living standards rose and credit became more accessible, most enjoyed access to a wide range of consumer goods. Essential goods such as clothes and food have become more affordable. Social exclusion has lessened too as poverty has been confronted with targeted interventions and tax credits, particularly in the last decade.
Yet the flux of the 80s was scarring, and is bitterly remembered. And Glasman and Blond’s ideas dangerously indulge aggrieved sections of society. Worse, the glorification of the past encourages misplaced romanticism and reinforces resentment about change.
It is easy to look back on bygone working-class communities through rose-tinted spectacles: the trade unions, the associations, the local church. But for some people, not all, these communities could be very repressive. Many women were expected to give up work and look after children full-time. Marriages, oppressive ones, sometimes violent, were hard to escape from. Men were expected to work from an early age rather than carrying on their education. Family life and the responsibilities of adulthood started early. Homophobia could be rife.
The danger is that Blond and Glasman’s indiscriminate worshiping of the past keeps the flame of support alive for such dated norms, creating communities which limit individual freedom and the potential for improvements in life chances for those living in these neighbourhoods.
What’s more, trying to rebuild social capital from above—by trying to keep open inefficient post offices or blocking new supermarkets, as both Glasman and Blond propose—misses the point, and only adds to the idea that market forces and private capital are demonic, when actually they could sustain and improve public services that people rely on. Revitalised community life will only really come from improving the skills of individuals: boosting education levels and improving employability, for instance.
The starting point of progressive politics is to support the most deprived. A real progressive vision is not one that harks back to some undefined pre-Thatcherite period as Blond and Glasman do, but one which supports people in building the capabilities to survive and flourish in a modern, market-based society.
Ryan Shorthouse is the Spokesman for Bright Blue, which campaigns for progressive policies from the Conservative Party
