The Next New Generation Profiles – Aaron Porter

The next instalment in a series of articles profiling rising young stars in the Labour Party. Luke Pearce visits the office of Aaron Porter, NUS President for 2010-11.

It’s been one tumble dryer of a year for Aaron Porter. Comfortably elected President of the NUS in July 2010, he’s since had to deal with the ‘Browne Review’ into university funding, a government vote on raising the cap on top-up fees, police kettling and a huge increase in student activism. The events of the past 9 months, and the significance of the President’s role, will have registered for us all. He’s also faced a torrent of criticism, personal abuse and violence – and that’s just from the students marching alongside him. I’m more interested in the personality behind the title.

Aaron’s been involved with student politics for five years, having studied at the University of Leicester and edited the student newspaper, the ‘Ripple’. As I sip my tea he tells me he’s evolved in two ways since becoming NUS President. “One of which is patience…I’m not the kind of person who wants to impose my views on people, but rather seek consensus where possible. The second characteristic is having a thick skin. I’ve had to grow a thick skin this year; it’s been a hugely testing arena to push myself to the limit.”

Personal insults and intimidation following his condemnation of the violence at Millbank in November: he’s had to deal with a lot of crap. “Every NUS President does. There’s large numbers of people with different views. The hard left say you’re not radical enough; the hard right say the NUS is too leftwing. David Aaronovitch [himself a former President] described it as an occupational hazard.” Aaron’s friendly and well-rehearsed; not hugely laid back but less stressed-looking than I thought he might be.

He says his biggest critics are those with ideological differences who didn’t much like him to begin with. He tries not to take it personally. But when you’re receiving death threats on voicemail it must be hard to keep focused on the job. “My bigger concern is that a loud minority is painted as something bigger than it is.” The mainstream student body, Aaron insists, were the 50,000 who marched through central London to demonstrate against the tuition fees rise, not the 50 or so who caused violence at Millbank.

Given the pressures, I question why he wanted this role. “I went in with my eyes wide open about the potential impact of this past year on future students,” Aaron says. “Only one in ten Presidents gets to deal with a funding review.” His anger at successive governments’ proposals on university funding was, he claims, what got him involved in NUS. There was a time when the government proposed no cap on tuition fees at all; Aaron can be given some credit for personally lobbying the Prime Minister on this and at least securing a cap of £9,000. Little consolation for some.

Aaron bravely admits that he was caught out by the speed and intensity of the decisions that had to be made in his role. We talk about his response to the violence at Millbank. “I had a choice: to say nothing; to go there and try to get them [the protesters] out; to get my opinion out; or to kick the issue into the long grass. I decided to condemn the violence and in retrospect would have made the same decision. To those people who disagreed, I ask them what the consequences would have been had I made a different decision?” He says he had 90 seconds to make that decision and based it on his belief that violence is always unhelpful. ‘Caught out’ perhaps, but Aaron still believes he’s made the right calls “99 times out of 100.” That’s some self-confidence. “If you’re too timid or lacking in self-belief when dealing with the likes of [David] Cameron and [Vince] Cable, that’s not a helpful attitude. You’ve got to be both credible and confident. But obviously that has to be weighed against being arrogant – I’ve had a lot of charges against my name this year, but that isn’t one.”

What Aaron wants to be remembered for is the NUS’s challenge to the coalition government. He brings up the NUS Pledge Campaign, which caused such embarrassment to prominent Liberal Democrat MPs who’d previously promised to vote against any rise in the tuition fee cap. “The campaign had such longevity, and its success should be measured by what now happens to the Liberal Democrats at the next election. It was the first real shake of the coalition, and loosened the foundations so much that it will never recover.” Quite a claim.

“Actually the first time Labour went ahead in the polls was at the time of the student protests. Students were the first big challenge to the government’s austerity programme. The NUS was at the front, before other groups such as the unions, and that’s something I’m hugely proud of.” As a member of the Labour Party, Aaron was surely pleased to have contributed to the Ed Miliband poll bounce.

Aaron joined Labour at 21, but stood as an independent for the NUS Presidency. He says he had no political affiliation at the University of Leicester, but was drawn into university politics via the student newspaper and societies. “I realised the student movement could campaign collectively, and that opened my eyes to party politics. It would have looked opportunistic to align myself with Labour Students for the NUS campaign, though I did say I was a member of the party.”

He gives the last Labour government a 6/10 rating, describes himself as ‘centre-left’, and supported Ed Miliband for the leadership. Pretty middle of the road within Labour. Aaron emphasises the importance of being electable, but laments Labour’s inability to move the country’s political compass during its time in office. “In terms of the balance between market and state, if anything it [Labour] moved the country to the right, which I think was bad.” When growing up, Aaron says his family were “apolitical floating voters”. I know this can’t be the whole story. “They had a strong sense of right and wrong and a commitment to the public sector. When political issues came up, they were talking points, not approached from a party political angle.” Aaron says he was always aware of the differences between left and right, but by 18 years old was still formulating how he thought about politics. “I was a slow starter, I didn’t fall out of the womb brandishing my Labour membership card like Wes Streeting [former NUS President].”

But he was always interested in current affairs. His mother would time dinner to coincide with the six o’clock news. “Often an issue on the news would result in a big debate, or collective wagging of fingers: on immigration, the EU or such like.” Aged 10, Aaron was given an assignment to interview a celebrity for his school newspaper. He posted many letters and the only ones to take up the challenge were the local MP and Mayor of Croydon. Presumably they wanted to establish a relationship, knowing he’d soon be playing an influential role in the NUS.

Has Aaron changed much since his schooldays? “I’ve always worked hard; I liked school and learning. My Mum was a primary school teacher, which I suspect had an impact. But what has changed is my sense of how fortunate I am.” Aaron attended a local state primary school and then a boys’ grammar. He admits it was full of middle class boys and opportunity. “I’ve been really lucky, and want to extend the opportunities I’ve had to others – but wouldn’t it be better if people had that anyway? I suspect that’s where I come from in my politics, whereas most of the boys at school were probably on the right.”

Aaron’s mentioned his parents’ liberal views on immigration; I wonder if he was particularly conscious of his own racial background at school. “Only slightly. My Mum’s from Trinidad… but I was born and grew up in this country, in a very English way: I went swimming, learnt the piano… I’m not white, but not black. It was obvious I wasn’t white in terms of skin colour, but I still felt English.”

We talk a bit about his family from Trinidad. Aaron notes the religious and cultural differences to the UK, particularly in the pace of life, and says his maternal grandmother is a devout Muslim. His mother’s brother in law, meanwhile, was briefly Speaker of the Trinidadian Parliament.

Aaron’s mother came to the UK aged 18 to become a nurse, leaving behind her six siblings to pursue her ambitions in 1970s London. His father, by contrast, came from a council flat in Kennington, left school at 16 and supported Millwall “with some of the stereotypes,” Aaron jokes. He obviously has a huge respect for his parents and it’s hard not to be fascinated by the contrasting stories he admiringly relates.

It’s his mother’s emphasis on the importance of education and schooling that Aaron attributes to his present work ethic. “Taking home report cards was a big day for me and my mum… I learnt that if you don’t work hard, no one else is going to do it for you. But your best opportunity is to go to university and get an education. I was the first in my family, but it was never questioned as I grew up that I’d go.”

How about his pursuit of a political career? “I’m not as concrete on this as people assume. Yes I am interested, but I have reservations. I’ve had a taste of the political lifestyle, the intensity, the absence of a work-life balance. I’ve had a level of scrutiny akin to many MPs. There’s lots of things that make me uncomfortable about going into politics.” Among these he lists the risk of getting the portfolio for fisheries. “I want to live before I do something like that… But if Ed Miliband wanted to pick up the phone and say ‘you can have Croydon North’, I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t bite his hand off.”

Aaron speaks very highly of the University of Leicester. He’s maintained an interest in the place since graduating and copies of the annual report are strewn across his table. It turns out that Warwick University was his first choice (they rejected me as well so we share a mutual lack of interest in the place), but Aaron says he wouldn’t have changed the course of events as he grew a great attachment to the “diverse and thriving city” of Leicester. A great contrast to the grammar school in Croydon, he tells me. By now he’s happy with the intensity of London and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, apart from New York. I wonder how he deals with the pressure of the Presidency. “I’ve always enjoyed roles where you lived the job. JCR President, the magazine, a student ambassador… I thrive with that. That said, this job is so full on that I’ve had to be pretty disciplined about switching off the Blackberry.” Last autumn Aaron claims to have worked 55 days without a day off. “It got to the point where I felt my judgement was going to be impaired, so I started scheduling in some breaks.”

He says things have got better since announcing his decision not to re-stand for election, which is rare for NUS Presidents, who typically seek a second year in office. “I saw Chelsea vs Manchester United last night.” He supports Crystal Palace and used to read a lot of plays, though more recently he’s been devouring Blair’s book, Campbell’s diaries and Robert Wilkinson’s ‘The Spirit Level’.

There are plenty of students who feel the NUS has let them down and not been radical enough during this most crucial of periods in its history. Aaron says these critics are in a minority but surely the personal taunts and charges of poor leadership are what lies behind his decision to step down this summer? “No… If I’d have re-stood, I would have won… but I believe the NUS has to move on from the tuition fees debate. It’s not helpful to look back and keep saying who’s to blame. I figured that with my continued involvement, there’s a real danger of us falling into infighting and attributing blame. I want to be able to leave at the end of this year with a clear conscience and proud of the achievements, so I’ll put my best foot forward over the next few months.”

Any last message to his critics? “I will say this in my final few months: There is a lot more that unites us in the student movement than divides us. And we should therefore be thinking who we turn our guns on… it’s wasting time to turn in on ourselves.” I can see Aaron was hugely frustrated at spending his personal resources fighting internal battles instead of the coalition government.

Perhaps Aaron is guilty of exactly what he criticises the last Labour government for: failing to lead the political compass of his movement in a leftwards direction. But he would argue emphatically that was not his role. Like some previous Labour leaders, he seeks to paint his job as a representative of the ‘mainstream majority’, continually frustrated and held back from achieving real reform by zealots and crazies.

Regarding his early departure, neither his own stated reasons, nor those of his critics, seem to me to ring true. I doubt he sees any prospect in achieving much more than he already has over another year as President. And considering the personal outlay required of the role, it’s just not worth it. He’s tired and needs a break, and I don’t blame him.

As I leave Aaron’s office, an audible sigh of relief rises from the many NUS officials camped outside, obviously pleased to get rid of me so they can presumably discuss the important matters of the day and go home. It doesn’t surprise me there’s a queue: Aaron can listen as well as talk; he’s nice enough not to have rushed me. Probably too nice a guy, which is why he hates making enemies, and why the criticism still gets to him.

I do believe him when he says he wants to listen and digest different points of view. Critics would argue this stems from a lack of ideological clarity and political grounding. I agree that he’s probably not much of an ideas man. Aaron’s strength and passion lies more in helping other people to achieve theirs: an implementer, keen to help lead others’ good ideas into action. Being principled is all well and good, but otherwise useless without the concrete achievements that are only possible through a healthy dose of pragmatism. It’s by this belief that he’ll measure the success of his Presidency.