The party of the many – Not the feud

By Laurence Turner / @larry_turner

The psychology of betrayal is deeply ingrained within the Labour Movement, but it’s time to lose the complex.

August will see the eightieth anniversary of the formation of the National Government. If the event is noted at all, it will probably be to draw parallels between the government of the 1930s (‘the devil’s decade’) and our present coalition. For Labour, however, 1931 carries a special significance; for many it represents the date of our single greatest betrayal. As one Labour MP’s wife wrote:

“Ramsay MacDonald’s betrayal of the Labour Movement was such a deep shock that it left the Movement feeling like a jilted girl who swears she will never fall in love again.”

The vitriol of later memoirs and electioneering slogans confirmed the charge of treachery. Howard Spring’s 1940 novel Fame Is The Spur – and the wonderful 1947 Boulting Brothers’ film adaptation staring the dashing Michael Redgrave – gave further substance to the myth of youthful idealism corrupted by power.

Modern scholarship casts doubt on the traditional account, but 1931 is only the most prominent date in Labour’s demonology. Black Friday, the collapse of the General Strike, the formation of the National Government, Clause IV (twice over), The Gang of Four, and even the ‘Ramsay MacBlair’ caricature of recent years – all form part of a bitter narrative that blinkers our political imagination. The Labour Party – and the wider left – has always been a broad coalition, and there is surely little sense in castigating each other for deviation from some hazily defined moral standard.

Tim Bale’s history of the modern Conservative Party chronicles, in excruciating detail, how the righteous guardians of the Thatcherite flame prevented our opponents from keeping pace with a changing world. Tony Blair’s suggestion that Labour “lost [in 2010] because it stopped being New Labour” should be viewed therefore with caution. This is the time for challenging self-examination, not uncritical obedience to new orthodoxies.

I do not suggest that we should exercise the word ‘betrayal’ from our lexicon, still less that we stop singing the penultimate line of The Red Flag at Conference. But as long as the associated language of betrayal – of sellouts, blacklegs, and collaborators – remains part of our muscle memory we will be forever looking backwards. The politics of recrimination diverts emotional energy inwards, and prevents us from engaging critically with the world around us.

Cries of betrayal may hurt Nick Clegg, but they are not without consequence for our future relations with the Liberal Democrats. One year after forming the National Government, MacDonald asked himself – as many Liberal Democrats ask in private – ‘Was I wise? Perhaps not, but it seemed as though anything else was impossible.’ When the coalition ends, some of our current opponents could end up as our colleagues and allies.

Perhaps it’s time to start giving them the benefit of the doubt.