Make no mistake, Momentum are the new Militant

by Cllr James Patterson

The deselections of moderate Labour councillors in Haringey have made headlines this week. These have been organised by Momentum. They are actively seeking control of Haringey Council. Given the circumstances, I have decided not to seek re-election.

I was immensely proud to be elected as a Labour councillor in Haringey in May 2014. Labour, at the time, was a pro-European, internationalist and socially liberal party of the centre-left. I had been inspired by the successes of Labour councils, up and down the country, in their pursuit of social justice objectives. These had been in hugely difficult circumstances.

During the last couple of years, however, the culture and values of the Party have been changed profoundly. It has been divested of its shared sense of purpose. Momentum has spearheaded a hostile takeover by the far left. The world view they promote is inconsistent with the Labour values that united the Party before September 2015. There was an early intimation of this in the winter of 2015. In November, Paris was attacked by jihadist terrorists. The misnamed ‘Stop the War’ Coalition issued a statement claiming the French had ‘reaped the whirlwind’ of Western countries’ foreign policy. I expected nothing better from a motley crew of Trotskyists with their apologism for anti-Western jihadism. However, I did expect the Leader of the Labour Party to express solidarity with the French people. This would have been consistent with traditional Labour internationalism. Instead, he seemed more concerned with demonstrating solidarity with the Stop the War Coalition by attending their Christmas fundraiser. I was beyond disgusted.

Sadly, this mentality has since become more commonplace in the Party. In July 2017, Haringey Council voted to recognise the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) definition of antisemitism. The Labour Party of Clement Attlee, Barbara Castle and Michael Foot supported the creation of the state of Israel. As the Full Council discussed the motion, which had cross-party support, local Momentum activists created a disturbance in the public gallery. This had been planned beforehand. They heckled, abused and threatened the councillors in the chamber. My Jewish colleagues, especially, found this distressing. I felt huge discomfort at knowing we share a party with people who hold such pernicious views.  

As a councillor, I have learnt that local authorities have to plan for the future. This might be up to fifty years ahead. Similarly to other London boroughs, Haringey is afflicted by a housing crisis. A complicating factor is the projected population growth. London may have a million more residents in the next decade. This necessitates the building of more housing of all types of tenure. The extent of government cuts since 2010 cannot be underestimated.  Local councils do not have the funds to build housing on the scale required. To address this problem, Haringey Council has devised the Haringey Development Vehicle (HDV). This is a partnership between the Council and a private developer to build more housing and regenerate the existing social housing stock.  

There is an element of risk involved in a development partnership. Nevertheless, the alternative approach of inaction is not an option for a responsible council. Haringey Momentum, however, has channeled the 2016 Leave campaign in orchestrating a campaign of misinformation. There is a separate anti-HDV campaign which is supposedly independent of Momentum. However, the delineation between them is unclear. Their online and print materials are often identical. They make regular use of dubious terms such as ‘social cleansing’. More worryingly, they claim that the Council can simply build more social housing if the HDV is scrapped. This is reminiscent of the claim that there would be an extra £350 million a week of NHS funding were Britain to leave the European Union. Similarly to the Leave campaign, they have been able to fashion simple, clear messages. Any complexity or nuance is blithely ignored.

The social media strategy of the anti-HDV campaign seems to have been inspired by Militant. Their Twitter feeds seem to be maintained by the sort of people who, before social media, would have written anonymous poison pen letters. Individual Labour councillors have been singled out and subjected to online hate campaigns.  The level of personalised vituperation seems detached from the issue of housing. It is evocative of the tactics of bullying and intimidation associated with Militant in the 1980s. The sectarianism is palpable.

Haringey Momentum has used the HDV as its Trojan horse to take over the local party. Given their tactics to date, I can only imagine that a local authority they controlled would be like Liverpool Council during Derek Hatton’s heyday. Their promise to build more social housing might end up looking like the proverbial lie on the side of the bus. That is not an administration I would wish to be associated with. Instead, I plan to concentrate my political energies campaigning against a hard Brexit. That is enough grotesque chaos to be getting on with.   

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Momentum’s Code Of Ethics: a translation

By Jake Wilde

The original text is in bold and my translation of what they really mean is in italics.

 

Individuals and groups using the Momentum name and branding must operate according to the following principles at all times:

It’s important to ensure that there’s an opt-out if needed. When someone holds an official role in an organisation that confers status upon them, but they’re either writing or speaking about a subject that the organisation would not authorise them to write or speak about, there’s an old trick to pull. This is to use the words “in a personal capacity” after their name, the office they hold and the organisation they hold it in. Sometimes the “in a personal capacity” is in microscopic font, abbreviated to “PC” or only ever mentioned in the flyer for the event, and not when introducing the individual at the event. So, for example, when a someone wants to speak at an event that’s beyond the pale even for Momentum (at least publicly), they can still be billed as being from Momentum but the “in a personal capacity” prevents any action being taken. Such privilege is, naturally, only accorded to the chosen.

As the successor to Jeremy Corbyn’s Leadership Campaign, Momentum promotes the values that Jeremy popularised during the campaign, of fair, honest debate focused on policies, not personal attacks or harassment.

Ever wondered why so many of the Corbynista Twitter accounts are anonymous? Momentumites use their anon accounts to abuse and harass, and their named accounts for the “fair and honest” stuff.

Momentum seeks to build positive relationships with Constituency Labour Parties, trade unions and other Labour movement or campaigning organisations that share its aims and principles.

The method by which this is achieved is entryism, and the building of those “positive relationships” is done by Momentumites from the inside. The subtext here is also clear: if you’re against us we’ll come after you.

Momentum seeks to reach out across the community and encourages the participation of people who may not have been involved in political activities before. Ensuring the safety and self ­expression of everyone is a priority, especially of those who are often marginalised on the basis of their gender, sexuality, ethnicity, race, religion, class, disability and educational or economic status.

At first glance this looks like a pledge to protect free speech but it’s actually the very opposite. There’s only one version of the truth allowed, and as long as you agree that society has marginalised everyone – a necessary prerequisite for forcibly implementing massive societal change – then you will be allowed to express your (supportive) opinion. Essentially this is an endorsement of identity politics, but also a warning that disagreeing will be condemned as -phobic or -ist.

Groups of individuals may form local Momentum Groups to share ideas, organise and participate in activities at their local level, which demonstrate how ‘socialist values’ and collective effort can make a positive social and/or environmental impact. These groups must be democratic in their nature and be organised around a spirit of collaboration, inclusion and respect.

You don’t know how soviets work? You will comrade, you will.

As the successor to Jeremy Corbyn’s Leadership Campaign, Momentum promotes the communication of progressive ideas for political change, such as:

o Opposition to austerity and privatisation,

Austerity really only means spending less than your income, a necessary prerequisite for reducing the deficit, a pledge made by John McDonnell. So this must only refer to bad austerity, or something. And one of the odd things about privatisation is that it just means using the private sector to perform a task previously undertaken by the public sector, even if so doing offers better value, or a better service, to citizens. To oppose this in every single case is simple dogma.

o The promotion of equality and participatory democracy,

“Participatory democracy” is code for “your right to vote is dependent upon turning up to a meeting, and still being there when the vote is taken”. It’s an old scam, to hold meetings when opponents are known to be unavailable, or to drag out proceedings until everyone else has gone home and then take the vote.

o Strong collective bargaining to stamp out workplace injustice,

This means the return of the closed shop, better known as compulsory union membership.

o A big housebuilding programme and rent controls,

How big is your big? This big? Not big enough comrade.

o Action on climate change,

Action eh? Strong stuff.

o No more illegal wars, replacing Trident not with a new generation of nuclear weapons but jobs that retain the communities’ skills,

Describing wars as “illegal” is an oldie but a goodie. This simply translates to “as long as it’s OK with the Russians” as “illegal” means “not endorsed by all of the permanent members of the UN Security Council”. The desire to subcontract our foreign policy decisions to Moscow is simple anti-Americanism, but also owes much to a desire to support Iranian interests in the Middle East, which Russia generally favour. In case you’re wondering this particular clause would have ensured that the Serbs would’ve repeated Srebrenica in Kosovo.

Including Trident is interesting. Labour reached a policy on Trident democratically, so the inclusion of this demand places Momentum in an undemocratic position. The inconsistency with the demand about respecting Corbyn’s election is obvious.

o Public ownership of railways and in the energy sector, and

Carefully phrased to avoid saying “Public ownership of the railways and of the energy sector, because neither is affordable. Would a Government Gas Company survive in the market without making huge losses? Maybe we’ll find out.

o An end to scapegoating of migrants.

A seemingly throwaway line, but one that hints at censorship. How could such a pledge be delivered, or even defined? Which migrants? The ones decried by Jeremy Corbyn for producing downward pressure on wages in the UK?

These are the policies for which Jeremy Corbyn was elected.

Momentum is wholly committed to working for progressive political change through methods which are democratic, inclusive and participatory.

Jon Lansman’s coup earlier this year disabused many people of the idea that this was indeed the case.

Momentum seeks to build a social movement in support of the aims of the Labour movement and a fairer and more decent society.

Those familiar with Clause 1 of the Labour’s rules will wonder what this really means for the future of the party. Leading supporters of Momentum have often spoken of ditching Labour if Corbyn was ousted, or indeed, in the past, been actively involved in rivals to Labour.

Momentum is committed to supporting the Labour Party winning elections and entering government in 2020 and seeks positive and productive engagement with Constituency Labour Parties and trade unions.

And this looks ominously like a deadline.

Failure to abide by this code of ethics may result in suspension or permanent exclusion from Momentum meetings, online groups and/or membership.

“He who has the gold makes the rules.”

 

Momentum Code of Ethics

From Foucault to Corbyn: the Left’s sordid relationship with Iran

By Jack Staples-Butler

The Islamic Republic of Iran was born in a hostage crisis which has never really ceased. Since 1979, the Iranian regime has repeatedly employed the abduction and arbitrary arrest of foreign nationals, frequently targeting those with dual Iranian citizenship, as a matter of state policy. There are several interpretations as to the rationale. The most obvious is material cynicism; prisoners arrested on bogus charges of espionage are a source of bargaining power with the international community; Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe’s husband believes his wife was taken as leverage in Iran’s dispute with the UK over an arms deal dating back to the 1970s. Alternately, there is evidence that the Islamic Revolutionary Guards have escalated the taking of foreign hostages as part of an internal power struggle with other parts of the regime. The most disturbing interpretation is one of the regime’s millenarian convictions; when Iran accuses Zaghari-Ratcliffe or hundreds of others of being CIA or Mossad agents, the charges are not entirely bogus fictions but sincerely-held delusions of a regime governed by thought disorder. It represents a disturbed pattern of thinking which has many sympathisers in the rich world. Any government that institutes ‘Death to America as an official public slogan can reasonably expect a little help from left-wing friends in the West.

The Islamic Revolution of 1979 was an early harbinger of what would later be dubbed the ‘regressive left’ or more fittingly, the ‘tyrannophile left; the emergence of a Western socialist left so desperate for allies against capitalism and liberalism that it saw embracing a neo-feudalist theocracy as a virtuous act. A regime led by a Supreme Leader and unchallengeable priesthood which executed trade unionists and social democrats by firing squad, hanged gay people from construction cranes and banned countless books and works of art became a cause célèbre for some of the most vaunted intellectuals and political figures on the left. Michel Foucault, the godfather of post-structuralist theory which has saturated academic departments since the 1980s, declared the mullahs of the Islamic Revolution could execute and torture whoever they liked, because Islam does not “have the same regime of truth as ours.” Foucault, the architect of queer theory now proverbially applauding the mass execution of gay men, was not alone. David Greason’s article ‘embracing death: the Western left and the Iranian revolution, 1978-83 covers much of this deeply unsettling ground, as do the themes of Paul Hollander’s recent book on ‘Intellectuals and a Century of Political Hero Worship‘.

Jeremy Corbyn’s hosting of a phone-in show on Iran’s state-controlled Press TV, a gig which netted him a total of £20,000, was not merely motivated by greed or vanity (the more likely motive for Alex Salmond taking a lavish new hosting job with Russia Today). Corbyn might have found presenting gigs or newspaper columns elsewhere; working for the anti-Zionist, anti-imperialist information arsenal of the Islamic Republic was just too appealing. George Galloway, a long-running presenter on the network, described the English-language propaganda channel Press TV as a “voice for the voiceless”. The voices of Iran’s political prisoners were unavailable for comment. Press TV’s website published lurid Jew-baiting editorials by Holocaust deniers before, during and after Corbyn, Galloway former Mayor of London Ken Livingstone were on their payroll – perhaps the network’s fixation on ‘Zionism’ earned Livingstone’s goodwill?.

Maziar Bahari is an Iranian-American journalist whose imprisonment, torture and false confession was facilitated by Press TV at the same time Corbyn was presenting his talk show. After Ofcom revoked Press TV’s right to broadcast on UK satellite and cable channels due to its involvement in Bahari’s torture, Corbyn continued his presenting gig for another six months. Bahari’s description of Western leftists, including Corbyn, Livingstone and Galloway, was of a new generation of “useful idiots”, adding:

“These are people who have a grudge against the US government or capitalism as a system, and as a result, they embrace whoever is against the American government. This means that sometimes they embrace regimes with atrocious human rights records like the one in Iran.”

Most British discussion of the imprisonment and maltreatment of Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe this month has focused on the careless talk of the Foreign Secretary Boris Johnson and subsequently Michael Gove. However, a regressive myopia has affected discussion of the issue, wherein Johnson’s bungled response is believed to hold greater importance than a dictatorship’s policy of arbitrarily imprisoning and executing civilians using show-trials. The height of this disorder of accountability was the granting of an Observer editorial to none other than Jeremy Corbyn, who demanded Johnson’s resignation for, among other things, potentially condemning a British citizen imprisoned in Iran. The regime in Tehran has long proved it will domestically do what it wants, when it wants. Although Johnson’s words are now being quoted with delight on Press TV, the greater material prize for any propaganda channel is always the enthusiastic Western voices lining up to praise the regime. The selective myopia and amnesia of left-wing politician and their surrogates now attacking Johnson would be comical if not undercut by the sordidness of their own involvement with the Islamic Republic and its state media.

Celebrating a century of anti-totalitarianism

By Oscar Clarke

This year is the hundredth since the victory of the totalitarian idea in Russia. And there is little to be thankful for about the world that was called into being by Lenin a century ago. The Revolution promised salvation, and a large part of the European intelligentsia embraced it with a religious fervour. It produced leader-worship, famine and slavery, all the while hunting heretics with an assiduity which renders the Papal inquisition inappropriately tame as an historical comparison.

But there is, nevertheless, something to be celebrated in the sanguinary centenary of Bolshevism, which becomes apparent when I glance at my bookshelf. There I see Koestler, Serge, Borkenau and Silone, the four writers to whom Orwell referred when he coined the term “the concentration camp novel” to summarise the literature of nineteen thirties Europe. I also see Solzhenitsyn and Vaclav Havel, Sebastian Haffner and Victor Klemperer, Kanan Makiya and Ayaan Hirsi Ali. To wit, I see a whole genre of literature – anti-totalitarianism – that also got started in 1917, which produced some of the most indispensible works of the last century.

Had the Russian Civil War gone the other way, something doctrinally akin to Nazism might have emerged instead. For the White Russians, like Hitler, saw murdering Jews as a war aim. They were among the first true believers in the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, by which theory Bolshevism – like capitalism before it – was simply a tool in the Jewish plan for world domination. It was White Russian emigres who brought the conspiracy theory, in the early nineteen-twenties, to Germany, where they also introduced political murder: Vladimir Nabokov – father of the novelist of the same name – was shot three months before Walther Rathenau.

Following a fascist triumph in Russia, Lenin, Trotsky and the other old Bolsheviks would have emigrated instead, perhaps to Vienna, where they once fraternised in the same cafes as a destitute Hitler. But more likely to Germany, homeland of Marx, Hegel and capital H History, especially if the Revolution of 1919 had brought the Communists to power there.

Such a counterfactual history would make for an intriguing novel. The author might proceed through the ‘twenties and ‘thirties, trying to divine how the twentieth century would have been altered by a fascist Russia and a communist Germany. But when, to get a feel for his subject matter, he came to study the literature of the period, he would likely be met by a revelation: history might not have diverged much at all from its actual course. For fascism and communism were two sides of the same coin.

One source for this lesson, composed around the time of the Hitler-Stalin Pact, would have been Arthur Koestler’s Darkness at Noon. At the beginning of the novel, Rubashov, a victim of the Moscow trials, is having a nightmare about his arrest, years earlier, by the Gestapo. In the dream, he is awoken and forced to dress, but he can’t quite manage to do so, because his body is overcome by the paralysis which nightmares often afflict us with in their most fearful moments.

Meanwhile, two men are banging on his door. Only this time they are not there on Hitler’s behalf, but on Stalin’s. In the final moments of Rubashov’s dream, someone pulls a plug and he hears water running down the pipes behind the wall. He wakes and has time to recover his sense of irony as he observes the portrait of Stalin hanging above his bed, then Stalin’s men break through his door to play the same roles as the Gestapo men in the dream. This time, Rubashov is able to dress, but somebody pulls a plug and water comes cascading down the pipes behind his wall.

The two totalitarian regimes had become mirrors of one another. In the final semi-lucid moments of his life, at the end of the novel, this truth dawns upon Rubashov. After receiving a shot in the back of the neck, his dream recurs:

Outside, someone was knocking on the front door, he dreamed that they were coming to arrest him; but in what country was he?

Whose colour portrait was hanging over his bed and looking at him?

Was it No.1 or was it the other – he with ironic smile or he with the glassy gaze?

A shapeless figure bent over him, he smelt the fresh leather of the revolver belt; but what insignia did the figure wear on the sleeves and shoulder-straps of its uniform – and in whose name did it raise the dark pistol barrel?

The two totalitarianisms were not only united by their penchant for political liquidations, but by their attempts to submit truth to their dogmas. It was Franz Borkenau’s book, Spanish Cockpit, which was at the centre of the famous rift between Orwell and the editor of the New Statesman, Kingsley Martin. Borkenau had been an agent of the German Communist Party, but had left after learning the lesson that Orwell would learn in Spain: that Stalin was actually keen to prevent revolutions abroad (he preferred Hitlers and Francos). Orwell had been asked to review the book for the magazine, and he praised its honesty. But this honesty offended the Stalinist orthodoxy of the time. Martin rejected the review, explaining that “it implies that our Spanish correspondents are all wrong”.

In Orwell’s postscript to Homage to Catalonia, he wrote:

I remember saying once to Arthur Koestler, ‘History stopped in 1936’, at which he nodded in immediate understanding. We were both thinking of totalitarianism in general, but more particularly of the Spanish civil war. Early in life I had noticed that no event is ever correctly reported in a newspaper, but in Spain, for the first time, I saw newspaper reports which did not bear any relation to the facts, not even the relationship which is implied in an ordinary lie… and I saw newspapers in London retailing these lies and eager intellectuals building emotional superstructures over events that had never happened. I saw, in fact, history being written not in terms of what happened but of what ought to have happened according to various ‘party lines’.

Spain had taught Orwell about the most frightening aspect of totalitarianism, its disavowal of the concept of truth. Just as, in Germany, truth was what Hitler thought and Goebbels announced, truth in British newspapers, in the name of solidarity with the Russian Revolution, was what Stalin decreed. Orwell’s publisher, Victor Gollancz, co-founder and proprietor of the Left Book Club, and a conspicuous “fellow traveller”, rejected Homage to Catalonia.

In The Totalitarian Enemy, Borkenau compared Hitlerism and Stalinism explicitly. He picked up on a more obscure feature of totalitarianism, which will be familiar today to anyone who has spent any time perusing the English language magazine of the Islamic State, Dabiq, named in honour of the town where IS prophesy their victory in a final, apocalyptic battle with the unbelievers. This feature is messianism. With the revolutionary sects of the middle-ages, the anabaptists and the French revolutionaries, the totalitarianisms shared “the idea that some complete salvation could be worked on this earth through an accumulation of atrocities.”

Hitler actually talked of the Third Reich lasting for one thousand years, just as Revelations promises the millennial reign of Christ. Trotsky, meanwhile, posited that a “man of the future” would be born when the Revolution had completed its work. In his memoir, Victor Serge recorded the following exchange between a Stalinist and a left oppositionist, which demonstrated the callousness by which the believers in this future sought to attain it:

“you can’t make an omelette,” says the Stalinist, “without breaking eggs.”

“I see your broken eggs”, comes the reply, “now where is this omelette.”

In antiquity, Borkenau observed, “there is no evidence that there ever arose… the idea that spiritual or material salvation could be won through the destruction of all higher civilization by inspired fanatics.” In the history of the Judeo-Christian world, by contrast, this idea has recurred again and again. Another of the great foes of totalitarianism, Albert Camus, left his readers to consider that thought, by concluding his allegory of the Nazi occupation of France, The Plague, thus:

And, indeed, as he listened to the cries of joy rising from the town, Rieux remembered that such joy is always imperiled. He knew what those jubilant crowds did not know but could have learned from books: that the plague bacillus never dies or disappears for good; that it can lie dormant for years and years in furniture and linen chests; that it bides its time in bedrooms, cellars, trunks, and bookshelves; and that perhaps the day would come when, for the bane and the enlightening of men, it would rouse up its rats again and send them forth to die in a happy city.

 

Trilby, the Novel That Gave Us ‘Svengali’

How Trilby & Svengali, the names of the central characters of a George du Maurier novel, became immortal.

By Emma Garman

Longreads

Emma Garman | Longreads | February 2017 | 6 minutes (1,788 words)

In the fall of 1894, a New Jersey reader wrote to George du Maurier, the Franco-British author and satirical cartoonist whose Harper’s Monthly serial, Trilby, had just come out as a novel. The concerned correspondent asked that his mind be put to rest regarding the decorousness of relations between Trilby, the young heroine, and musical genius Svengali, under whose hypnotic spell she becomes an overnight opera sensation. Du Maurier replied politely but briefly: “I beg to say that you are right about Trilby. When free from mesmeric influence, she lived with him as his daughter, and was quite innocent of any other relation.” His assurance was published in TheArgonaut, a San Francisco weekly, thus alleviating any similar fears for the girl’s reputation among that paper’s readership. In Brooklyn, meanwhile, a woman had a disagreement with her…

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This one time, at Labour Conference…

By Elle Driver

Conference. Every year, the drill’s the same. Through the gates you go after flashing the pass, scanning crowds for people you know, people you need to speak with. Trawl the programme for promising events. Day one is about reconnaissance.

Inside, the main hall promised a furious programme of activity, the motions that Momentum had allowed to reach the floor and the set-piece speeches the Leader’s Office had approved. The peripheral rooms and common areas littered with MPs with their aides, suited and booted and avoiding eye contact like it might give them venereal disease. Can’t blame them, a single chat could root them to the spot for the worst 20 minutes of their lives, cruelly unable to escape the complete oral history of what’s gone wrong in Burnley. But, apart from them, the vibe of the crowd was distinctly grassroots, loose and casual. Being the first day, the army of bouffanted lobbyists, both male and female, hadn’t descended yet. It was early, so no-one was drunk. In other words, nothing was actually happening yet. Attendees were just streaming in, tentatively, checking it all out, looking for friends or partners in crime.

The real action was at The World Transformed, the parallel conference around the corner from the main one where, even on the first day, there was a line around the block to get in. A gaggle of self-described activists, killing time as they queued, shared their glee at how busy the event was, especially given the New Statesman venue was deserted. This was to be a recurring theme that week. No one had a kind word for the poor NS or its writers, they were apparently a pack of establishment sell-outs or worse, corporate stooges. A bit of parsing of these characterisations would then lead to their editors being described as anti-Corbyn and, well, nothing else. Not a great first impression of the new members, the Corbyn faithful, of whom I’d heard so much but not yet seen in the wild, certainly not up close. But I was determined to keep an open mind.

Onwards.

There may have been unkind words about the media, but in truth there were no roaming gangs of awful Marxists looking for dissenters to slay with their sickles. Apart from individual conversations, confined to particular stands, normality reigned. As the sun came out, it even began to feel festive and relaxed. I started getting reports from colleagues about the fringe meetings. There was no generalised tension, no-one causing real trouble or even just asking awkward, challenging questions. Others reported the same and soon it was clear that the party was indeed far more united than the dreadful MSM (or the poor ostracised New Statesman lot) would have anyone believe. The relief was beginning to feel palpable. But early days still.

Unusually for a conference attendee, I would have the honour of meeting Corbyn himself, more by accident than design. What a lovely man! You’d have to be some kind of Blairite gorilla to not instinctively like him, with his crumpled, vulnerable smile, the kindly eyes. In an instant the adoration didn’t seem or feel so bizarre. If you came upon this man thinking he shared your political views it would be impossible not to follow him, maybe even not to venerate him. Then suddenly I was pulled from  his personal orbit by one of the team of advisers around him. Or perhaps it was security, it was impossible to tell them apart. It was a rude interruption of my momentary thought bubble. ‘Mustn’t disturb Jeremy’, someone later quipped to me, ‘he’s the only thing keeping Labour from going Full Metal Jacket. They can’t be rocking any boats.’

In the fringes this message became clearer with each passing meeting. Questions weren’t allowed in the ones with contentious topics. ‘No Q&A’ became a common opening disclaimer for the chairs, and if they demurred a party aide would pipe up from the panel or the audience and remind all concerned: No Questions, No Exceptions. Insiders even apologised to me for the lack of access to anyone who held any decision-making powers and, sotto voce, they admitted the joking was all too serious. Jeremy can’t be anywhere near anything controversial right now. No one must be made unhappy. The cliff edge was all too near, the enemies poised at the gates, there was no way policies could be considered carefully right now. Just need to make it into Number 10: then we’ll talk.

Onwards.

Many of the stereotypes bandied around about Corbyn supporters were revealed as just that, stereotypes. The place wasn’t teeming with North London avocado-worshipping privilege, there were plenty of attendees who struggled to find the change to pay for the overpriced coffees in the seafront cafes. I chatted to as many different and disparate attendees as I could, and they were all unfailingly polite. Corbyn had seemed such a nice man, maybe we sceptics had it all wrong, something positive really was happening, why piss on an idealist’s chips?

New members everywhere, new faces. They didn’t really supply new energy, since they were timid, unsure of how it was all meant to work, excited but worried they’d do it wrong. Understandable. No one forgets their First Time. But it was still good to see them there, and to feel reassured that in fact the party was still functioning as it always had before, that reports of its takeover by hard left men in fedoras were looking greatly overstated.

My policy area, being controversial and difficult, meant, as usual, no-one really wanted to speak with me, but felt obliged to. Getting to see MPs away from the cameras is a similar experience to seeing celebrities in private settings. They may not play characters but many have public personas that slip away the second the door to the ante room shuts. I’m always grateful for the ones who prove to be no different behind the scenes, even more so if they’re polite rather than contemptuous. And if they actually stop, take time to listen, ask questions, understand, hey ho, that’s pay dirt. Few and far between, but not forgotten, and often the ones I least expected.

The new intake proved no different. Some appeared to feel it was their duty to take advantage of an opportunity to learn about an issue. Others didn’t even bother to conceal their irritation and wouldn’t so much as give a thanks-but-no-thanks. Again, this was a kind of relief to me, that there was no difference, that the big new names were behaved the same as the big old names. The game was the same, I’d no need to approach it differently. Be polite, charming even, if possible, smile, be respectful of their positions. That’s all. Keep at it, plug away. Some will listen, some won’t. Take the wins, forget the brush-offs. There will be arseholes everywhere. And so far none of the male MPs try it on like half the Tories do. Result!

More nice people to meet out on the pavement, more introductions. Contacts meet new contacts, and if you have balls, you introduce yourself to anyone and everyone. Us old hands were increasingly outnumbered as the week wore on. The average age tumbled so low I started to wonder if everyone who was there shouldn’t be at home, studying on a school night. Someone introduced me to a young guy who was very small, slight, quiet, and looked permanently uncomfortable. The type you couldn’t remember from school no matter how hard you tried or scanned those old photos. He proved to be no more impressive in speech than demeanor. Matt Zarb-Something, someone said. Oh! Oh? A name I knew, but alas not from where.

Onwards.

Andy Burnham, and his aide Kevin, ever the true gents. John McDonnell, never interested, but never impolite. Chuka Umunna, funny and decent and sincere. Dan Jarvis, aloof and cold and annoyed. Lisa Nandy, trying hard to get it, but always in a rush. Dennis Skinner with his lovely wife Lois, not having any of it, any of this conference shit, but loudly agreeing with me on my issue. John Prescott, warm and real but uncompromising and will turn on a sixpence if you cross him, loudly telling me to go before the wife finds out he talks to me. Kate Osamor wanting nothing to do with me. Diane Abbott too wary of strangers in her midst to really try, and for that I can’t blame her. Yvette Cooper fair and patient, giving nothing away, nothing. Then the media types – columnists and TV personalities worse than any of the MPs, with egos the size of the new British Airways attraction. Phil Collins from The Times so far up his own arse he’ll never need an endoscopy. But John McTernan the sweetest political killer I’ve ever known. A huge tender heart, once he lets you anywhere near it. Alistair Campbell weirdly vulnerable and nervous, fragile even. Stop that, I chide myself, can’t like him, not HIM…

None are the public caricatures they labour under, all are trying their best to balance personal ambition, insecurities, and doing the right thing. No, that’s not right, not all. Some want to further their careers and the rest is secondary. New intake and old alike. But it takes time, opportunities to test them, challenges to put to them, to find out who’s who. Who’s real and who’s just talking the talk. Over and over I’m surprised, caught out. Nothing works as a reliable shorthand or signal. I can never know until they’re in front of me, allowing a real conversation, give and take, examination.

My feet hurt, my back aches, it’s near the end, I’ve been walking or standing for 5 days straight, no lunches, just grabbed coffees and snacks until evenings. The football scarves have come out, with Corbyn’s name, the students have grown more comfortable, they’re getting the hang of the fact that there’s nothing to get a hang of, it’s a party conference. On the pavement someone makes another introduction, to yet another incredibly awkward young man named Sam, but this one’s not diminutive, he’s huge and that’s with me wearing heels. Towering over me, reminding me of one those trees in Lord of the Rings or is it Harry Potter? I’m told he’s a journalist but there’s only a mumble to be had by way of greeting. He manages a smile even if no eye contact. The young lurching lummox lumbered off before I get to find out which paper he writes for. ‘Dunno’, says my colleague. ‘Last name’s Kriss I think?’

Watching him go I recall the various meetings I’ve had; I can no longer suppress the nagging thought that I’ve been bumping into real-life Jim Levensteins all week. Then I realise I can’t afford to think that as it might make me Stifler’s Mom.

Corbyn’s entrance into the venue to make his speech is carefully choreographed to look like there’s a spontaneous burst of crowd support around him. I watch him and his team stride out from the back of the Odeon cinema, around the corner to where key supporters have been gathered but now are genuinely delighted. It looks and feels great, they’ve done it well. They’re getting much better at this, his team. I’m happy for him. Nice man.

Conference is over. I had hits and misses. The place had a slightly different look, a different crowd. But it was no different to the year before, or the year before, or the year before, or the year before. Stage managed to the nth degree, fewer opportunities for debate or questioning in separate meetings, but a bit more on the floor perhaps. The biggest issue of all, Brexit, blocked completely from open discussion. Armies of press officers swarming around to stop any controversy in its tracks. Corporate sponsors in the exhibition hall and of the fringes. Everything tightly controlled. MPs clasping their lines-to-take briefing sheets if you catch them unawares, the rest of the time, the scripts are hidden away, thrust into advisers’ pockets. Impressively coordinated. Nothing awkward, little discomfort.

The young members will come back, I hope, and, like me, over the years they will see that leaders come and go but the machinery never changes. It’s politics as it always is. There’s nothing new here.