FEELING LEFT OUT OF THE PARTY

Simon Hoggart on the MPs who raised

a glass at their leader's discomfiture; oddly, they are not Tories

THE LABOUR Party may be 30 points ahead in the opinion polls, but morale among Labour MPs is probably as low as it ever has been. As one famously moderate MP put it last week, 'Being in the Labour Party now is like having an out-of-body experience. You can see yourself there, but it all seems to be happening to some- one else.'

At the Highland Park/Spectator Parlia- mentary Awards lunch last week, Mr Roy Hattersley caught the mood of many MPs when he said that Labour had ceased to be a moral crusade and had become instead a marketing opportunity. Mr Hattersley is often called, in the shorthand jargon of the lobby, a right-winger. In fact, he believes in unswerving loyalty to Labour's ancient ver- ities, which is why there was never a chance of his joining the old SDP. He just had to wait for it to join him.

I once heard him say that, if the country were offered a choice between 10 per cent more prosperity and 5 per cent more equal- ity, it should choose the greater equality. He is, in short, a moderate fundamentalist.

Nevertheless, he cannot be written off as one of the dinosaurs of new-Labour mythology, and his words had considerable resonance for very many MPs. At the moment they feel left out, ignored, an unregarded bunch of sales reps for a prod- uct they only half-heartedly endorse.

On those odd occasions when they get the chance to express their views, they work out what the leadership wants and do the precise opposite. In October's shadow Cabinet elections, all but one of the people fingered for dismissal by Mr Tony Blair's staff succeeded triumphantly. Mr Ron Davies, an object of the leader's particular mockery, shot up the poll. Miss Joan Lestor, whose political demise has been demanded almost daily since Mr Blair's election, added 25 per cent to her vote. Instead of selecting bright-eyed, tele- visual, new-Labour proselytisers such as Ms Hilary Armstrong and Mr Andrew Smith, the MPs put elderly, unreconstruct- ed, totally untelevisual Mr Tom Clarke back in the shadow Cabinet. Even the excellent Mr Brian Wilson was swept aside in the rejection of all things Blairite.

And there were scenes of merry jubila- tion in the new Strangers' Bar, Labour MPs' traditional snug. People were queu- ing up to pump Mr Clarke's hand, and to kiss Miss Lestor as if she were the bride at some particularly riotous wedding. No doubt the general glee did not match the mood of the whole party. No doubt it was reported to the Whips and ignored. How- ever, I should have thought that any party leader would be given some pause for thought if the reversal of all his plans were greeted with hilarity and carousing by his own side.

In part, to be fair, this was the result of the traditional, time-honoured mistrust of the Labour leader. The party has always been rancorously resentful of its boss, and it still is. Mr Neil Kinnock used to remark that being prime minister would be a dod- dle compared to leading the Labour Party.

The general detestation of Mr Peter Mandelson is also a factor. I suspect that this is based on an exaggeration of his influence (one shadow Cabinet survivor told me, quite seriously, that he was the most powerful man in the Labour Party); his detractors should realise that the more they attack him, the more difficult it would be for Mr Blair to reduce Mr Mandelson's role. There is also deep resentment at the way the constant stream of press briefings are used to attack the likes of Mr Frank Dobson, a left-winger who has swallowed much in the name of new Labour, yet remains entirely loyal.

Then there is the curious way in which those who are outside the leader's close cir- cle find themselves unexpectedly under- mined. Two small examples: Mr David Blunkett discovered that a survey of party policy for the under-fives would be con- ducted by photogenic new Labour Ms Mar- garet Hodge; in fact, it should come under Mr Blunkett. Similarly, Mr Michael Meacher, now in the outermost circle, a planet Pluto among shadow ministers, was told about Mr Gordon Brown's plans to cut the dole for people who won't go on train- ing courses on the morning of the press conference where it was announced. So what, except that training is part of Mr Meacher's remit?

These instances are the equivalent of finding that your key no longer fits the exec- utive washroom. The constant message to anyone outside the charmed circle is, You can't count. Only we matter. Live with it.'

But the most important element in the mistrust between leader and led is the one Mr Hattersley put his finger on. MPs feel that the party is now being sold like soap powder. Simple propositions (such as Britain having fallen to 18th in the mean- ingless world prosperity league table; the more accurate claim that new taxes amount to 7p on the basic rate) are repeated over and over again so that they stick in the mind like the theme tune of a television commercial.

American companies often feel the need to stir up evangelical fervour in their work- forces, precisely because the products they are peddling are much the same as every- one else's. New Labour (or 'Tory Lite' as the Independent's cartoonist calls the party) faces the same problem. So, meetings of the shadow Cabinet advisers are conducted like revivalist sessions. `Mawhinney is on the run!' Mr David Milliband, an impor- tant Blair aide, will intone. 'What have the Tories got to hide?' he will charge, repeat- ing the week's soundbite. Young persons with glowing faces write this stuff in their notebooks as if it were the 'Revealed Truth'. No wonder backbenchers some- times call them the Steptford Researchers.

Since marketing is all, there is an obses- sion with press coverage. Hence Mr Blair's acrimonious meeting with the Guardian staff, including the editor. The leader's sidekicks know that the paper is still the most influential among Labour supporters, a fact which they dislike because it can't be controlled and won't be bullied.

Hence, too, Mr Blair's eagerness to embrace Mr Rupert Murdoch, a gesture rewarded two weeks ago by the sudden closing of Today. Recently, I came by an intriguing document which reveals that the end of Today was a larger blow than one might have thought. The paper, prepared for members of the shadow Cabinet by Ms Joy Johnson, Labour's 'Director, Cam- paigns, Elections and Media', is called `Driving the news agenda. How to use the machine', a message you would rarely have found embroidered on a banner at the Durham Miners' Gala.

I like Ms Johnson personally, but this is a document from which any hint of a moral crusade, or even a point of view, has been neatly excised. It suggests a campaign in which all policies, commitments and ide- als are converted into news stories, like grass being turned into cakes of cattle feed. These stories, trimmed and shaped, can then be planted in the media. Today was to have been a prime target, and acted as a stopping station for the journey to television and the bigger tabloids. Ms Johnson writes entirely in the lan- guage of the marketeer. She talks about `regional targeting', 'vehicles', 'the mass youth audience', 'mainstream packages' and 'maximising impact' with 'people-driv- en stories'. I am sure what she says is true. Her assessments of the various media seem to me quite accurate. But the docu- ment as a whole suggests not a political cause, but a marketing operation. I suspect this is part of the problem. Mr Blair, we are told, remains deeply suspi- cious of his party's opinion poll lead. He is surrounded by control freaks who believe the only way it can be preserved is for them to run the operation as tightly as pos- sible and with no interference from out- side.

Most Labour MPs, however, take the next election pretty much for granted, and deeply resent being told that anything they say might lose it. They have kept quiet for over a year, but, as Mr Hattersley showed, perhaps they won't for very much longer.

The author is parliamentary sketch writer of the Guardian.