CHRISTMAS, that Janus-faced season. A moment to look forward to 2010, which, in Britain, will involve a general election. But a chance also for reflection on the outgoing year—and on the past twelve and a half, the long, long epoch of New Labour that seems destined soon to end. Bagehot has been thinking in particular about which of the political figures who have populated it deserve to survive, in reputation, the ignominy of defeat and oblivion of time. Who have been the real heroes of New Labour?
That question raises a prior one, about the nature of political heroism. One criterion, obviously, is to have done the state and country some serious and lasting service: created something new, or driven through valuable change. It helps if the authorship of the policy or institution is clear. For example, the minimum wage will be a positive part of Labour’s legacy; but the idea was an old one with many sponsors and progenitors.
Moreover, to qualify for this pantheon, a hero’s virtues must not be clouded or cancelled by grave mistakes or misdemeanours. That rules out Tony Blair, for all his landslides and longevity, and Gordon Brown, despite the seeming alchemy of his decade as chancellor of the exchequer: their claims foundered in, respectively, the sands of Mesopotamia and the ashes of recession. It is possible, on the other hand, to be a sort of negative hero—by preventing something bad from happening, or taking a noble stand over something important, even if it ended in failure.
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It is easy to recall the villains of the New Labour era: the lies, the disgrace, the disappointments. But who are the heroes? Here, in no particular order, is a selection:
1. Lord Adonis. In politics, media profile and genuine expertise are often inversely proportionate. As Mr Blair’s chief wonk, then an education minister, little-known Lord Adonis was the intellectual force behind New Labour’s school reforms, especially the academies programme. He understood how monolithic public services fail those who need them most; his innovations will outlast his government. More recently, as transport secretary and a powerful advocate of high-speed rail, he has exhibited the unusual advantage of genuine interest in that brief.
2. Donald Dewar. Assuming Britain doesn’t go bust, New Labour’s most lasting domestic legacy—and, overall, a beneficial one—may be the constitutional reforms enacted in its first term: the freedom of information act, ejection of most hereditary peers from the House of Lords, devolution and the London mayoralty. Though he will forever be remembered for his expensive wallpaper, Lord Irvine, then the Lord Chancellor, did much of the work. But this column’s accolade goes to Dewar, who oversaw the creation of Scotland’s first parliament for 300 years, then became its (first) first minister; he died in 2000. Devolution seems to have achieved what, for unionists, was one of its main purposes: weakening the case for outright Scottish independence.
3. Lord Mandelson. Co-architect of New Labour, saviour of Mr Brown’s premiership, all-round entertainer, Lord Mandelson makes the list not for his colourful contributions to his party but for his spell as Northern Ireland secretary. One way in which Britain is unequivocally a better place is that republican and loyalist terrorists now murder people much less frequently. The great heroes of the peace process were John Hume and Lord Trimble; but British ministers contributed—and besides Mr Blair, probably none more than Lord Mandelson, until his second resignation and European exile.
4. Sir William Macpherson. Maturing attitudes to race and sexuality have been another big improvement. The introduction of civil partnerships was the main legal symbol of this process: championed by Mr Blair and now entrenched, they have unquestionably increased the net happiness of Britain. But Sir William—admittedly an appointee rather than a politician—is Bagehot’s chosen hero. An unmetropolitan high-court judge, he chaired an inquiry into the Stephen Lawrence case, in which the police bungled their investigation of the racist murder of a black teenager. Not all the ideas in Sir William’s excoriating report of 1999 were sensible; his notion of “institutional racism” has proved troublesome. But he changed the way Britain thinks about race for the better, and for ever.
5. Robin Cook. He made what has become a vanishingly rare act of self-sacrifice. These days most ministers who “resign” are forced out after a scandal or cock-up. Cook, who died in 2005, quit over the Iraq war; in his loyal yet electric resignation speech, he pointed to the lack of international support for the invasion, and said that “Iraq probably has no weapons of mass destruction in the commonly understood sense.” He had been a sound foreign secretary—British foreign policy did indeed have the “ethical dimension” he had promised—and had a hand in devolution too. But he earns his laurels for his brave and ultimately vindicated stance on the most contentious issue of Labour’s time in office.
The nearly men
A few others deserve honourable mentions. Bagehot’s heroes, second class (no bar), include James Purnell, who revitalised welfare reform, then went over the top in a bid to unseat Mr Brown, only to discover that his colleagues were dawdling in the trenches. By stubbornly keeping his job, Alistair Darling, the unfortunate chancellor, probably prevented a desperate fiscal plight from becoming even worse under a putative successor. Bill Clinton taught Mr Blair and his crew about governing from the centre.
This is a short list. There are, regrettably, no women on it. All the same, it is perhaps a reminder that politicians and their henchmen are not always chancers and charlatans, and that not every achievement since 1997 has turned out to be a mirage. Raise a Christmas toast to the heroes of New Labour. :tea::tea::tea:
That question raises a prior one, about the nature of political heroism. One criterion, obviously, is to have done the state and country some serious and lasting service: created something new, or driven through valuable change. It helps if the authorship of the policy or institution is clear. For example, the minimum wage will be a positive part of Labour’s legacy; but the idea was an old one with many sponsors and progenitors.
Moreover, to qualify for this pantheon, a hero’s virtues must not be clouded or cancelled by grave mistakes or misdemeanours. That rules out Tony Blair, for all his landslides and longevity, and Gordon Brown, despite the seeming alchemy of his decade as chancellor of the exchequer: their claims foundered in, respectively, the sands of Mesopotamia and the ashes of recession. It is possible, on the other hand, to be a sort of negative hero—by preventing something bad from happening, or taking a noble stand over something important, even if it ended in failure.
Click here
It is easy to recall the villains of the New Labour era: the lies, the disgrace, the disappointments. But who are the heroes? Here, in no particular order, is a selection:
1. Lord Adonis. In politics, media profile and genuine expertise are often inversely proportionate. As Mr Blair’s chief wonk, then an education minister, little-known Lord Adonis was the intellectual force behind New Labour’s school reforms, especially the academies programme. He understood how monolithic public services fail those who need them most; his innovations will outlast his government. More recently, as transport secretary and a powerful advocate of high-speed rail, he has exhibited the unusual advantage of genuine interest in that brief.
2. Donald Dewar. Assuming Britain doesn’t go bust, New Labour’s most lasting domestic legacy—and, overall, a beneficial one—may be the constitutional reforms enacted in its first term: the freedom of information act, ejection of most hereditary peers from the House of Lords, devolution and the London mayoralty. Though he will forever be remembered for his expensive wallpaper, Lord Irvine, then the Lord Chancellor, did much of the work. But this column’s accolade goes to Dewar, who oversaw the creation of Scotland’s first parliament for 300 years, then became its (first) first minister; he died in 2000. Devolution seems to have achieved what, for unionists, was one of its main purposes: weakening the case for outright Scottish independence.
3. Lord Mandelson. Co-architect of New Labour, saviour of Mr Brown’s premiership, all-round entertainer, Lord Mandelson makes the list not for his colourful contributions to his party but for his spell as Northern Ireland secretary. One way in which Britain is unequivocally a better place is that republican and loyalist terrorists now murder people much less frequently. The great heroes of the peace process were John Hume and Lord Trimble; but British ministers contributed—and besides Mr Blair, probably none more than Lord Mandelson, until his second resignation and European exile.
4. Sir William Macpherson. Maturing attitudes to race and sexuality have been another big improvement. The introduction of civil partnerships was the main legal symbol of this process: championed by Mr Blair and now entrenched, they have unquestionably increased the net happiness of Britain. But Sir William—admittedly an appointee rather than a politician—is Bagehot’s chosen hero. An unmetropolitan high-court judge, he chaired an inquiry into the Stephen Lawrence case, in which the police bungled their investigation of the racist murder of a black teenager. Not all the ideas in Sir William’s excoriating report of 1999 were sensible; his notion of “institutional racism” has proved troublesome. But he changed the way Britain thinks about race for the better, and for ever.
5. Robin Cook. He made what has become a vanishingly rare act of self-sacrifice. These days most ministers who “resign” are forced out after a scandal or cock-up. Cook, who died in 2005, quit over the Iraq war; in his loyal yet electric resignation speech, he pointed to the lack of international support for the invasion, and said that “Iraq probably has no weapons of mass destruction in the commonly understood sense.” He had been a sound foreign secretary—British foreign policy did indeed have the “ethical dimension” he had promised—and had a hand in devolution too. But he earns his laurels for his brave and ultimately vindicated stance on the most contentious issue of Labour’s time in office.
The nearly men
A few others deserve honourable mentions. Bagehot’s heroes, second class (no bar), include James Purnell, who revitalised welfare reform, then went over the top in a bid to unseat Mr Brown, only to discover that his colleagues were dawdling in the trenches. By stubbornly keeping his job, Alistair Darling, the unfortunate chancellor, probably prevented a desperate fiscal plight from becoming even worse under a putative successor. Bill Clinton taught Mr Blair and his crew about governing from the centre.
This is a short list. There are, regrettably, no women on it. All the same, it is perhaps a reminder that politicians and their henchmen are not always chancers and charlatans, and that not every achievement since 1997 has turned out to be a mirage. Raise a Christmas toast to the heroes of New Labour. :tea::tea::tea: