The entrance was surprisingly restrained. A mere three-minute standing ovation. First the shadow cabinet trooped on stage at theBattersea Arts Centerin south-west London and joined in the applause. Some faces familiar, others less so. A few known not even to their families. Last to appear was Jeremy Corbyn. “This isn’t about me,”he was to say several times. You could have fooled me.
Here was theLaborleader in his element as he launched his party’s election campaign. In the Commons he often seems awkward, stumbling over his words as he fails to make basic arguments. But give him an enthusiastic home-team audience and he comes alive. The sentences flow with the conviction and passion of a revivalist preacher. A man with the power to convince his supporters he had won the last election even when he had lost.
This was a once in a generation election to transform British politics, he insisted. Generations seem to come round awfully quickly these days, as I can distinctly remember him saying exactly the same thing during the last election in 2017. Still, no one was quibbling over these sorts of details. Having quickly dispensed with Brexit – he would negotiate a new deal within six months, which he might or might not support at a second referendum – it was all a piece of piss, really. He couldn’t imagine how Theresa May and Boris Johnson had cocked things up so badly. Corbyn moved on to his social justice agenda.
He wouldn’t be selling off the NHS to the USA. This prompted massive cheers and is going to be a hard line for the Tories to counter. Because the more they say they aren’t going to flog parts of the health service to Donald Trump, the more people will suspect that is the plan, as not even Conservative voters expect Boris to tell the truth these days. After all, this was the very day, 31 October, on which the prime minister had promised todie in a ditchand he was still very much alive. Corbyn asked for a moment’s silence in solidarity with all those who had been out digging extra ditches in anticipation.
Patients would be cured of cancer even before they had been diagnosed with it. There would be nurseries and schools on every street corner. The old would all have their own dedicated team of carers. Sheep would dream of electric androids. It sounded very much like the sort of world to which anyone could aspire. He didn’t say how much any of this would cost, but then he didn’t have to. In the Boris Johnson post-truth world there are no economic constraints. If the Tories can spend money they don’t have as if there is no tomorrow, why shouldn’t Labor?
Having whizzed through his catchy opening verses, Corbyn moved into his middle eight chorus. This wasn’t an election of the people versus an anti-Brexit establishment elite. It was an election of the people against a Tory establishment elite. The tax-dodgers. The dodgy landlords. Those with a vested interest in preserving inequality.
“Whose side are we on?” He asked.
“Yours,” came the near instantaneous response.
Corbyn looked mildly perplexed at this. In his script, the right answer had been for the crowd to shout out: “The people.”
“Whose side are we on?” He tried again.
“Yours,” everyone yelled back.
The Labor leader shrugged. He could live with the adulation. But he was going to have to work a lot harder to sell the message that it wasn’t all about him. He raced to a close with a promise to continue fighting until the rivers froze over. Or the Red Sea parted. It wasn’t clear if this was a reference to climate change or his quasi-mystical powers. The audience assumed the latter. “Oh Je-re-my Cor-byn,” they chanted.
Things became slightly edgier when questions were invited from the press.Laura Kuenssbergwas heckled merely for asking why he expected Labor to win on much the same agenda as it had lost last time. Not that it had lost last time. That was all a media conspiracy. Much like thepoll ratings that put Labor at its lowest levels since the 1980 s. Inside the Corbyn bubble we were in the year of magical thinking.
One or two members of the shadow cabinet went a little pale and their applause more hesitant when Corbyn declined to guarantee them their jobs after an election. Then the only person whose job the Labor leader could guarantee was his own. His supporters demanded nothing less. Becauseeven if he lost, he would have won again. And even if he were to die, his spirit would be immortal.
Fame! I’m gonna live forever. I’m gonna learn how to fly.
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