Let’s be realistic about the future of the Labour Party conference, urges Robin Pettitt
Labour’s annual conference is often preceded and followed by people inside and outside the party criticising it. The most common lament is that it has been stripped of its power. In contrast with the good old days, it is now no more than a leadership rally and an opportunity for activists to gorge on free food and booze. Having pointed out how low this once great event has fallen, the complainants will either make suggestions for how it might be returned to its former democratic glory or argue that it should simply be shut down, since it no longer serves any useful purpose. They are wrong on both counts
To understand what the Labour conference is and what it could be, it is necessary to be clear on a few key points. First, and contrary to popular belief, it is not and never has been the source of the policies pursued by the Parliamentary Labour Party. “New” Labour did not strip the conference of its power. In 1907, Keir Hardie had delegates pass a resolution stating that policies agreed by the conference were only “opinions” and the PLP – or, rather, the leadership – should be left to decide on the timing of the implementation of these. This sanctified the practice, followed by nearly every subsequent Labour leader, that the leadership could ignore decisions with which it disagreed.
The consequence is that, since the founding of the party, the Labour conference has passed three kinds of resolutions: those which have the full-hearted support of the leadership, those that emerge as compromises between the leadership and powerful players in the party, such as trade union bosses, and those that the leadership disagrees with and chooses to ignore or try to change at the earliest opportunity.
To argue for the restoration of Labour’s internal democracy with the annual conference at its peak is to misunderstand or forget what things used to be like.
This is not to deny that “new” Labour has changed the conference. The conference may never have been the parliament of the labour movement, to use Clement Attlee’s term, but it was once a very public and high-profile platform for dissent. It never determined PLP policy, but it was a place where activists could tell the leadership – often at great length and with lot of people watching – what it was doing wrong. Obviously that is no longer the case.
However, this does not mean, as some suggest, that we should abandon the conference as a waste of time and money. It still serves some important functions.
It is often derided as nothing more than a media event designed to show the party in a good light and as a place for activists to enjoy the company of Labour’s leading lights, while those in search of interesting debate go to the fringe events.
However, those three things – the media event, opportunity to mingle with leading party figures and the thriving fringe debates – should be sufficient reason to keep the annual get-together going, especially if it is accompanied by some changes to the policymaking process.
For the duration of conference week, Labour is the centre of attention, as far as the political media are concerned. So there is a great chance for the party’s big beasts to make key speeches to an attentive audience and reach the wider population. It would be madness to give up this opportunity, especially as the Liberal Democrats and Tories are unlikely to relinquish their moments in the sun.
Listening to tame delegates praise Labour’s leaders and all their works is undeniably mind-numbingly tedious. But there is no good reason to keep that as part of the proceedings. The main hall should be the centre for set-piece speeches from big names for the benefit of the media. If that is done correctly, it can benefit a party’s standing in the polls.
Further, there is nothing wrong with using the conference as an opportunity for hard-working activists doing largely thankless local campaigning to bask in the reflected glory (such as it is) and brief attention of the party’s big names. The conference should be a place where the party comes together and thanks its grassroots activists with speeches, photo opportunities and freebies. Since the fringe is often regarded as the most interesting place at political conferences, let it be celebrated as the most interesting place at Labour’s conference. Parties have to reach out to interest groups and organisations that do not normally get a hearing. The Labour Party fringe represents an ideal opportunity to do that.
Rather than regard the conference as the culmination of the policymaking process, why not see it as be the beginning of it – where those sympathetic and even those unsympathetic to the labour movement have a chance to engage with major players and ordinary members?
The conference is a place where representatives from all sections of the labour movement hear and debate contributions from groups as diverse as the nuclear industry and CND. British party conferences are special in their ability to attract such a wide range of opinions and Labour should make a virtue of this.
However, what the conference cannot be is a place where policy is debated and agreed. The presence of the media has made this impossible. Sausages and policies are two things not to be made in public. Policymaking is messy and rarely makes the participants appear bathed in glory. This does not mean it has to be done in secret, merely that the media circus that modern conferences have become is not the most appropriate place for this aspect of political life. The media love a fight. Even if it is legitimate debate, it will still be presented as a war. A party seen as in conflict with itself seldom wins elections.
So the conference should do what it does best: bring the party together to celebrate its achievements, show off to the press, salute its grassroots supporters and provide an opportunity to engage with various interest groups. By all means, let it be the venue to celebrate and rubber stamp Partnership in Power documents, but members should not kid themselves that a single week in the year is appropriate for deciding policy – particularly government policy. On the other hand, if it is made to operate as it should, Partnership in Power could be the process whereby all where all parts of the party have a voice. If members want a party where policy is made democratically, they should focus on making sure that Partnership in Power – or “into Power”, depending on the outcome of the next election – enables all parts of the party to have an influence on policy. At present, that is not the case.
Adopting the use of one member, one vote to determine the composition of the National Policy Forum was a significant step in the right direction. Opening up NPF meetings to all members, although not the press, would be another. Allowing ordinary members make contributions to NPF debates would increase the number of voices heard and enhance the NPF’s standing. Keeping out the press would mean a frank debate could still be had.
NPF members should be obliged to report back to their constituents’ after meetings. And the leadership should have the courage to abide by all Partnership in Power decisions, not just the ones with which it agrees.
In the 21st century and with 24-hour news media, Labour’s conference cannot be the ultimate place where policy is made. However, it could be a place for presenting policies and personalities to the public in a sympathetic light and for recharging depleted campaigning batteries. By being realistic about what conferences can and cannot do and by ensuring that Partnership in Power works in a properly democratic manner, Labour could get the benefits of media attention and internal party democracy – both in their proper place.
Robin Pettitt is a lecturer in comparative politics at Kingston University
