Labour’s Governing Icebergs #2: The Ideological Kaleidoscope
How the power of ideas has successfully transformed and fatally destroyed previous Labour governments.
Catch up on the previous piece in the series here on the need for action in government. This piece will focus on ideas and their interaction with Labour governments.
Labour, as a party of ideology, has always had a natural tendency to descend into ideological infighting. Since its very birth the party has breezed over several ideological positions and periods of division, but even at its most ideologically ‘radical’ it's retained a conservative edge. As David Edgerton neatly put it:
‘the fundamental aim of the Labour party has always been extremely modest [...] a muted socialism.’ (p.368, Rise and Fall of the British Nation).
While Labour has always housed a broad church of ideas it has shied away from the fundamental question of whether capitalism should be replaced, enabling it to muddle on within the established British political system. This piece will examine how the power of ideas has both hindered and ignited Labour’s previous governments. As for Starmer, he must understand that without ideas, there is nothing, but incorporate too many, and the government descends into infighting, ambiguity or extremity.
Old Ideas
In Labour’s early decades, the ideological divide rested between gradualists, ideologues, and the trade union interests. Though thought of today as on the left of the party, in a signal of how much politics has changed since the fraught interwar period, trade unionists were the more ‘conservative’ wing in the early twentieth century – and an important one too. Prior to 1945, trade unionists and ex-industrial workers were a large part of the Parliamentary party, and were more concerned with the improvement of material conditions for workers compared to the ideologues, who sought the immediate replacement of capitalism with a ‘New Jerusalem’ – a socialist British utopia.
The third group, gradualists, in contrast to the ideologues and trade unionists, saw the replacement of capitalism with socialism as a series of logical, gradual steps (hence ‘gradualism’). Socialism would become inevitable with step by step reform. This vision was shared by Labour’s first prime minister, the cautious Ramsay MacDonald, who believed socialism would gain electoral support as capitalism’s contradictions became clear to the public, so long as Labour maintained a ‘responsible’ reputation and enacting sensible reforms. However, pre-Keynes and with the interwar global economy struggling, this gradualism was not done effectively, manifesting as a hodgepodge of ethical socialism and an attempting at strengthening Britain’s fiscal position by implementing austerity – the latter of which finally ended the government. Ideologically and methodologically confused, and with a ‘conservative’ trade unionist wing, we can see why 1920s Labour failed. Furthermore, there were significant revolutionary elements in the party, such as Harold Laski, who worried socialism could not be brought about by democratic means, as the business class and establishment would supposedly block a socialist House of Commons. This wing of the party brought further ideological division to an already confused party and, taken altogether, this confusion doomed the interwar Labour party to near-destruction.
In 1931, MacDonald and much of his cabinet formed a national government with the Conservatives and Liberals, leaving the gradualists in a wholly different party. Clement Attlee and Herbert Morrison, rising stars and previously junior ministers, were suddenly thrust to the top. With the party split and reduced to only 52 MPs in the 1931 election, it was rudely disabused of the notion it could gain the popularity and power needed for the transition to socialism. Ironically, however, this nadir set Labour up for success. The party finally recognised that change was needed. As such, throughout the 30s, Attlee and Morrison would gradually create Labour’s most famous agenda, focused on the politics of national economics in the creation of full employment and the nationalisation of key industries, as well as the party’s most famous achievement – the modern welfare state. Not exactly revolutionary, with only nationalisation ideologically distinctive after 1945, but a more concrete programme for government, and signifying the party’s recognition the economic consensus was broken and in need of reform. Importantly, this was a programme for a democratic government – Attlee was thoroughly constitutional, rejecting Laski’s doubts while taking more direct action than MacDonald.
While this ideological unity was not cutthroat, it was decisive between 1935-45 compared to the 1920s. It was here Labour learnt its lessons: action and end goals are two sides of the same coin. British voters desire change rarely, but when they do vote for change, they bloody well want it delivered. However, this was (and is) not a carte blanche for socialist revolution, either. Attlee’s leadership was a great representation of this understanding. He oversaw the professionalising of the party, an ideological menu of partially-radical economics and constitutional conservatism, overseen by an MP membership of Oxbridge wizkids and experienced trade union officers. The cabinet facilitated a range of views, and while supposedly ‘factional’ at times, with Aneurin Bevan and the left particularly difficult for Attlee to manage, it’s best to reflect on it as a representation of nuanced policy positions, on specific issues, purported by a select few strong individuals. Ideological division rarely burst through, and remained a creative, not reductive, force.
Into the new age
There was no revolution, nor has the party ever fully agreed on wanting one. In this respect, it is still Attlee’s party. From the 1950s onwards, the settled consensus slowly became a Welfare National capitalism, rather than a moral / normative shift towards a democratic socialist utopia. Though there were significant divisions in the 1950s on the wisdom of promising further nationalisation and on moving beyond the party’s traditional base of working-class support, politics became about affluence, maintaining full employment and growth rates. Harold Wilson’s premiership of 1964-70 certainly reflected this. Though in some ways a return to the politics of national work, particularly in the revival of economic planning, this was geared toward the competitiveness of the British economy and increasing affluence for the British people. In other words, socialist measures in service to a capitalist economy.
Wilson became unstuck, however, losing the 1970 election due to the country’s relative economic decline, specifically due to the 1967 devaluation of the pound. The infighting between Chancellor James Callaghan and the Economic Affairs minister George Brown (Wilson’s two key ministers) could be explained as a core strategic reason Wilson couldn’t achieve more. The ruling triumvirate failed, became a poisonous mix of ideological division and personal ambition – sound familiar? Brown was naturally on the left of the party, a follower of Aneurin Bevan, a member of the union officer class and intent on limiting Callaghan’s control by attacking the Treasury. Callaghan, also of the union officer class, was an example of how ideology can be used to mask pure political power moves. This came to a head over Barbara Castle’s In Place of Strife, which aimed to curtail union power, the core political problem for Labour in the 1970s. Callaghan, seeing the opportunity to gain the trade unions as a key ally and thus set himself up as successor to Wilson, sank the bill. The defeat of the bill almost cost Wilson his job and likely contributed to Labour’s 1970 general election defeat.
Ironically, the failure of In Place of Strife sowed the seeds of Callaghan’s own downfall when he later became prime minister. Callaghan, for all the ‘keeper of the cloth cap’ talk, was much more fiscally restrained in government – leading to some describing him, hyperbolically, as a proto-Thatcherite. The continued lesson here again is that ideology is a tricky and amorphous statement. Politicians' ideologies can change – whether to adapt to circumstances or seek further power. What the 1960s and 70s Labour governments illustrated was that ideological division becomes potent when mixed with a chronic problem. Just as divisions over chronic economic strife had sunk Labour in the 1920s, now it was the party’s direct connections and rulership by the trade unions. Not only did unions represent a powerful part of the internal party politics, but also for the real economy – one side of the ‘unwritten constitution’ of industrial relations.
Ideology, as it did with Wilson’s first team, continued to hinder a party which was so intrinsically linked to a union movement. The second Wilson 1974-76 government saw a workable alliance with Callaghan forged, now the obvious crown-prince. However, the ideological division unleashed in the 1969 defeat proved too potent – especially against the backdrop of higher inflation and an EEC referendum – ending in an economic (and ideological) mess. Callaghan’s 1976-9 government experienced the same division, even if he was more successful at holding it together and achieving economic results. While Labour politicians benefited internally by playing power politics of ideology, once prime minister they became undone by the structural problems of unions, their control over MPs and the several contradictory positions held in Cabinet.
After the traumatic 1979 defeat, the ideological wilderness of the Labour-SDP split in the 1980s became a classic example of why division doesn’t produce good government. This is obvious – Tony Benn’s radical ideas made Michael Foot look right wing at times. However, many take a warped memory from this period: namely that ideological or message purity is what must be achieved at all costs. This is partly because of the scarring defeats in 1987 and 1992 but also Blair and his supporters' successful efforts at rewriting history in order to present his faction's power as pre-ordained (common sense even!). The space for those 1940s nuances from some of the key performing ministers or creative sources are no more. If Wilson had managed to control those differing 1960s/70s ideologies (in actuality power and personalities) it's likely the Labour playbook would have retained some of the creativity of ideological difference. It's not a surprise that Labour, traumatised by the 1980s, settled merely for power in the 1997-2010 governments, a period now remembered by its uniformity and stability. Bar Gordon Brown, and if one’s being harsh, there was not a single transformational or genuinely impactful Foreign, Home or other minister apart from, possibly, Ed Miliband who has the largest claim with his 2008 Climate Change Act. It’s not a coincidence ideas, creativity and structural change were missing from the New Labour period – even if they had little agency within the neoliberal paradigm.
Still Left Out?
So what should Labour learn? It's too simplistic for Starmer to fix all divisions with the left of his party by, say, installing John McDonnell in a key spending department. The left’s current state is troubling, with many tarnished by anti-semtism, as well as several years of failed leadership under Jeremy Corbyn. The recent Israel-Palestine conflict has only made reconciliation more difficult. It should not be lost on readers that the recent ideological inspirations of Corbynism, namely economist Thomas Pikkety and Miliband’s left-moving push of the party, both refused to serve under his leadership.
It's here Starmer, if looking at how ideology can spark creativity, should look to Attlee in granting parts of the Cabinet with diversity. Whether Starmer could actually incorporate the left of his party is questionable – a better place to start could be enriching the soft-left allies of Miliband, and truly utilising the Department of Energy and Net Zero, and GB Energy, as the battering ram for a range of ideas and debate into cabinet. This is working on the premise he even uses the cabinet, which is itself unlikely. It would certainly give him and his team more firepower against the Blairite wing if it decides a hostile takeover.
For the ideological division to heal it requires actions from both sides to repair damage. In reality it is more incumbent on the left of the party to admit their mistakes, surrender their student politics and become a team player for a Labour government in need of talent, ideas and more importantly outriders. It's these outriders (who create a real culture of progressivism and rewrite how actual politics works) which will turn out the young and inspire future political generations. It’s up to Starmer to offer a message that despite radicalism in one's political youth (as he himself experienced as a former Trotskyite and later serving under Corbyn), the ladder of political Labour party will enable that difference to be tolerated, as long as everyone (externally) is a team player. Disrupter Owen Jones’ exit from the party only makes a new reconciliation easier. |
It's no surprise Dominic Cummings writes consistently of his envy that young, clever people on the left go into politics more than the right because of an inherent belief in using power and government to change things for the better. It is up to Starmer to utilise this through ideological creativity, but to not overly-empower or endorse elements that are not constructive. It is a difficult tightrope to walk, but like Attlee, he must walk the walk.
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Writers:
Tom Egerton is a political writer and researcher, his new book ‘The Impossible Office?: the history of the prime minister’ is now out, published by CUP and co-authored with Anthony Seldon. Follow Tom on X / Twitter here and email him at tom.egerton.003@gmail.com.
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