There are only so many ways to say it: Something needs to change

It’s a crisp November the 5th evening, and while you lot are probably outside celebrating the execution of a man who tried to blow up the Houses of Parliament, I’m sat in my office leafing through bits of paper. They’re interesting bits of paper, mind. They’re the postcards from delegates of Class Conference 2014, which took place on Saturday 1 November, and they indicate which one policy they want the Government to adopt. While some are more straightforward values than policies (equality, fairness and, for one plucky soul, “a revolution” – Russell, is that you?), many others are remarkably specific – they address local government budgets, gender inequality, housing shortages. The people who came to our conference have been paying attention, and they’ve got ideas. That became evident as the day went on and the conference fizzed with debate.

This got me thinking. There isn’t really anywhere for ordinary people to discuss government policy is there? You can go to forlorn council meetings, or if you’re feeling particularly masochistic, rock up at the local branch of your preferred political party. But there isn’t anywhere engaging or participatory for people to talk politics – at least not with the people who actually end up writing policy.

I agree with Mark Ferguson that Labour’s attempts to engage Arnie Graf were laudable. I met Arnie a few times when he was in the UK, and he’s a really incredible man – naturally warm, interested in the people he meets, and with an intimidating memory for faces. He has a way of making you feel like you belong and that you matter, as cheesy as that sounds. Good politics should make you feel like that. When I was taking part in activism with UK Uncut, the intoxicant that kept me going back was the feeling that I could have an effect; that I was part of something bigger than me, and that the other people who were protesting cared about me.  That final element sounds ridiculous, but it was probably the most important aspect of all: ultimately people need to feel like they themselves matter.

At Class Conference it felt like we created that atmosphere for the day. People were excited, and demanding answers from the MPs we had invited. The pile of suggested policies I’ve got on my desk is pretty big because the conference was buzzing. This week we’ve sent delegates a survey asking for their thoughts on what could be improved. We’ve had a lot of detailed replies already, which suggests to me that people had felt invested in the day. But the problem is that once our conference was done, delegates returned to a political void. They had come to Class Conference from a politically atomised society, and that is where they returned.

I don’t know why Arnie Graf stopped working with the Labour Party so closely. The whole thing seems rather shrouded in mystery. But I do know it was a mistake to let him go. I know it is a mistake to confuse a sense of one’s own powerlessness with indifference to politics, and too many MPs and their entourages do just that.

This will be my final post for a while to look at political engagement. Over conference season, from Labour to Class, I’ve been interested in how ordinary people (for want of a less trite way of putting it) engage with politics, and I’ve effectively found myself writing the same piece over and over again. There are millions of people living in Britain getting on their lives, and then there are a couple of thousand making the policies that frame those lives – and never the twain shall meet. Class Conference showed that people take the chance to get involved in politics when it’s offered to them. MPs should take note of that. I’m running out of ways to say this, but something needs to change.