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Looking upon Labour’s "loveless landslide"

What watching a night that changed the country tells us about its mood.
A poltiical pudit opines in a TV studio while his colleague leans in and listens.
The Two Ronnies.

I very much like Mr. Vine, but he is like a Gremlin: you must follow the rules and not give him caffeine or sugar on Election Night. 

What on earth has happened to Aunty!? One of the few things that has united people from the left and right (at least according to my social media) is just how mediocre the election coverage was. The evening started badly for the Beeb when they let Channel 4 distract viewers a full 15mins early. This was to allow Not Going Out to complete its important work of informing and educating the populace. 

As a result, I found myself glued to Channel 4 for most of the night, intermittently flicking back to the National Broadcaster for bouts of genuine bewilderment. In a Channel 4 lull I made the jump only to have every sense immediately assaulted by migraine inducing swingometer graphics (it was synaesthesia inducing…I could practically taste the rapid mix of red, yellow, and blue). This neurological bombardment intensified with the commentary of Jeremy Vine. I very much like Mr. Vine, but he is like a Gremlin: you must follow the rules and not give him caffeine or sugar on Election Night. His high-octane performance drove me to the limit immediately. 

Regular further jumps gave me glimpses into the bizarre: a journalist standing outside of Rishi Sunak’s blacked-out home telling us the lights weren’t on, telling Steve Baker to his face that he was going to lose his seat, having an interview with Jacob Rees-Mogg where he looked like a hostage reading out demands…it really was dreadful! 

Stewart was reinforced by Channel 4 Political Editor Gary Gibbon. With a soft yet authoritative voice, and the appearance of a cheeky Beano character fifty years on. 

I stuck to Channel 4 as my safe space. They very much cornered the market for coverage by bagging both The Rest is Politics and the Gogglebox cast, as well as producing regularly mismatched line-ups of former MPs to pass comment. I must assume this was intentional, but even if not, it meant comedy gold. The scene opened with Emily Maitlis and Krishnan Guru-Murthy talking over each other in a stumbling staccato, while Kwasi Kwartang looked unbelievably uncomfortable sandwiched in between Harriet Harmen and Nadine Dorries (in various shades of pink).  

There were many other talking heads throughout the night, who each brought some magic to the night: Nadim Zahawi (looking like a cross between a wise owl and a Bond villain), Carol Vorderman (who might have started celebrating rather early), Sir Alan Duncan (looking like a wine merchant holidaying on the Amalfi Coast). Mhari Black brought a rather refreshing bluntness to proceedings. 

The standout stars, however, were Mr. Stewart and Mr. Campbell. They brought the Centrist-Dads-disagreeing-agreeably energy that has seen their podcast top the charts. They played off each other with precision and genuine affection, and a fair bit of humour. Campbell would get into a mild row, and then Stewart would jump in with careful analysis that tried to look at the broader political landscape. Dorries proved the perfect foil to Campbell - speaking in accusatory non-sequiturs, rhapsodically musing on the ‘virtues’ of Boris Johnson, weaving nonsense narratives that wouldn’t even make it into one of her novels. Campbell would retort in a tone that was at once bewildered, bored, and bristling. Stewart would valiantly intervene to find the calmer waters of consensus, and the whole cycle would repeat. Kwarteng looked increasingly uncomfortable until he just upped and vanished - perhaps from the embarrassment of being in the same party as Dorries. 

In his attempt to be serious and measured, Stewart was reinforced by Channel 4 Political Editor Gary Gibbon. With a soft yet authoritative voice, and the appearance of a cheeky Beano character fifty years on, he gave the careful analysis of the polls and the turnout, which Stewart would then run with in broader political perorations. The two hosts would often chip-in (quite chippily, actually), rarely able to sublimate their obvious and banterous contempt for some of the more egregious spin. 

Meanwhile, Harriet Harmon looked cross.

A sense of angry Labour malaise was one of the leitmotifs of the night...  there was a noticeable lack of celebration. No smiles. No D:Ream soundtrack. No positivity

This struck me as odd. Just before the show it had been announced that she was to be elevated to the Lords. This honour appeared to give her no joy. Harmen brought every answer back to how dreadful the Tories were, until Kwarteng tried to make a joke out of it to cut the tension: ‘You won, alright!?’ Every successful Labour candidate who was interviewed focused their responses on excoriating the legacy of the Tories, as if they were still in campaign mode. At times it got rather uncomfortable. Every time Rachel Reeves let a grin slip through, she seemed to feel the need to overcorrect by attacking her fallen foes even more harshly. On one of my disastrous forays back to the BBC I was greeted with Wes Streeting being positively thuggish in his language. It wasn’t until Sir Keir gave his victory speech that any Labour figures seemed to feel like they could actually appreciate their victory. 

A sense of angry Labour malaise was one of the leitmotifs of the night. From the moment the Labour Landslide was announced there was a noticeable lack of celebration. No smiles. No D:Ream soundtrack. No positivity. Perhaps it was because they all recognised the truth, succinctly put by Gibbon when giving his immediate reflections on the Exit Poll Result: ‘That looks like love…but that is a loveless landslide.’ Voter turnout was low. The Labour Party went backwards in its vote in many areas - sometimes due to Reform, sometimes due to Gaza protests. This was epitomised by Jess Phillip’s wafer-thin majority. The always pugilistic Phillips had to give both barrels in her speech to those who had campaigned against her, who continued to attempt to drown her out.  

The Labour Party’s massive majority seems to be built on sand, and Zahawi was quick to point out that sand can easily shift. Labour are the beneficiaries of our winner-takes-all electoral system (a system I very much support), and so were continually reminded of the fact that Starmer is no Blair and ’24 is no ’97. The landslide will give some cheer to those who desperately wanted to see the back of the Tories. But it belies the reality that with both the Greens and Reform having four MPs, a number of Labour MPs being defeated by Independents, and decreased majorities in safe-seats up and down the country, we are not a nation united around the charisma of our new Dear Leader. 

Stewart and Campbell continually try to draw the conversation away from the tittle-tattle of what this might mean for Labour infighting and the Farage fulminations we can now expect to see in Parliament, to the broader and deeper questions for the very health of our democracy…but the pull of gossip is sometimes too great for Maitlis and Guru-Murthy. 

None of this is helped by Dorries. 

A big victory, but one which indicates no national unity or confidence. A defeated government that was tearing itself apart long before the loss. Low turnout and lower trust.

From the get-go Maitlis and Guru-Murthy tried to inject intrigue into proceedings; a tough ask when the result was the confirmation of what looked like a foregone conclusion from the moment the election was called. They did their best, and got some sparks from Dorries and Campbell - a Stannis Baratheon-esque grammatical correction (‘fewer’) had me roaring with laughter - but all-in-all I was uneasy. Not quite bored, but not entirely excited and hopeful. Around 3am I fell asleep in my seat. I was awoken at 6am to my children bursting into the living room. I valiantly attempted to continue to watch the coverage while feeding banana-porridge to my son, head tilted in the strain of hearing the telly over the roar of the world’s loudest washing machine. I turned back to my son, admitting auricular defeat. There is no porridge in his belly; plenty all over his face and in his hair.  

At 7am I was banished to the bedroom by my exasperated and long-suffering wife - it has become clear that I am not giving my all to childcare. I saw the gracelessness of Liz Truss arriving late and then refusing to give a concession speech. I saw Stewart play the silent Scottish assassin, gently pressing Stephen Flynn to admit that perhaps the SNP’s losses have something to do with their mismanagement with the Caledonian public realm. Rishi Sunak suggested the election was about tax, and everyone groaned in disbelief - he really doesn’t have any political instincts. 

I never recaptured the magic of the first couple of hours, probably because there wasn’t any. From 10pm onwards there was an underlying sense of disappointment and despair. A big victory, but one which indicates no national unity or confidence. A defeated government that was tearing itself apart long before the loss. Low turnout and lower trust. I am not surprised by this. “O put not your trust in princes, nor in any child of man: for there is no help in them.” This is the warning of the Psalmist. I have already written, a number of times, about my own disgruntlement at the political process, and my doubt that it will be easily remedied.  

But watching the coverage - the baffling BBC, the political Two Ronnies that are Stewart and Campbell, the remarkable hat worn by the returning officer in Blyth - I was fortified by remembering that while the Psalmist is correct, St Paul nevertheless gave us clear advice and instruction: “I exhort therefore, that, first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving of thanks, be made for all men; for kings, and for all that are in authority; that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and honesty.” 

I shall pray for Sir Keir, for the new government, for all newly elected MPs.  

They need it. 

More importantly, we need it.

Essay
Comment
Economics
Sustainability
8 min read

Raiding the fields, lessons from history

A tax raid on farmers is raising more trouble than revenue.

Theodore is author of the historical fiction series The Wanderer Chronicles. He previously studied Dark Age archaeology at Cambridge, and afterwards worked in international law.

A soot stained burnt-out harvester sits in a recently harvested field.
A burnt-out harvester, Lonesome Farm, Oxfordshire.
Nick Jones.

“Better red than expert.” 

That was one of the slogans touted through the national propaganda channels in the early days of the People’s Republic of China shortly after Chairman Mao came to power. In other words, professionalism should be subordinated to politics.  

It seems a pretty accurate description of the current UK government’s own attitude to farming in the light of their controversial inheritance tax raid on the nation’s farmers. Prior to last month’s budget, Agricultural Property Relief meant that farmers could expect to hand all qualifying agricultural assets on to the next generation without lobbing their children the simultaneous hospital pass of a whopping great tax bill. It was this inheritance tax relief and this alone that allowed every typical asset-rich/cash-poor farming business to survive as a going concern from one generation to the next. 

Chancellor Rachel Reeves, perhaps applying her “better red than expert” thinking, identified this as a tax loophole that needed to be closed. She says it is costing taxpayers £1billion a year - which, when you think about it, is like a man who’s just cornered you in a dark alley saying you are costing him and his mates £100 by keeping those two shiny fifty pound notes in your own pocket.  

Farmers will now be expected to cough up 20 per cent of the value of their agricultural property into the national coffers with every passing generation. It doesn’t take an expert mathematician to realise such an erosion of capital needed to pay these bills will render many farming businesses untenable, particularly given that farming relies heavily on economies of scale. This represents a torpedo strike on the farming industry which will sink a very large number of people, not just so-called Barley Barons.  

No matter that the uptick of increased annual tax take from this measure will barely be enough to cover a day and a half of the NHS spend. Nor that while the government claims that, with a threshold of £1million before inheritance tax applies, 72 per cent  of “farms” will not be affected (their definition including small parcels of land, and so-called toy farms which make no pretence to be food-producing businesses), the National Farmers Union says the true figure is closer to the inverse of that.  

John McTernan, a former aide to Tony Blair and supporter of current PM Keir Starmer, didn’t help cool tempers with his revealing comment that farming was an industry which the UK could do without. “Labour can do to farmers what Margaret Thatcher did to the miners,” he said. Starmer was quick to distance himself from these incendiary remarks.  

But as farmers would no doubt appreciate, what looks and smells like horse manure, probably is horse manure. And these measures are what they look like: an outright attack on the farming community, and more widely the ancillary rural economy which farming supports. The average farmer would be forgiven for thinking this feels far more ideological than fiscal in its aims. 

That is why this week will see the largest rural protest in Westminster since the Countryside Alliance march in 2002. Farmers will converge on the Houses of Parliament to ask the government to reconsider such a direct attack on the food security of this country. 

Given this fraught situation, are there any lessons to be learned from the past? 

You have to wonder whether arguably the most left-wing government this country has ever seen is taking ideological plays out of the history book. Such tax raids on farmers' fields are nothing new. From ancient biblical times even to the last one hundred years, the consequences effect much more than the economy, they reach even to the soul of nations. 

If farmers as a community stand in the way, what is the objective that lies beyond them, which the new utopians hope to attain? 

In 1920s Russia, the Bolsheviks specifically targeted a class of landed smallholders known as the Kulaks.  

The Kulaks were relatively prosperous, independent farmers, who faced severe repression during the 1920s and 1930s under Stalin's Soviet government. Originally benefiting from land reforms after the Russian Revolution, they were seen by Stalin as a threat to his goal of collectivizing agriculture. By labelling the Kulaks as "class enemies" of the working class, Stalin launched a campaign to liquidate them as a class around 1929, aimed at confiscating their land and redistributing it to state-owned collective farms. 

The Soviet government seized Kulak farms, livestock, and tools, often forcibly relocating families to remote regions or sending them to labour camps where many perished due to harsh conditions. This campaign fuelled widespread suffering, triggering famine, especially in Ukraine, where it contributed to the devastating Holodomor. By the early 1930s, the Kulak class was effectively destroyed, resulting in millions of deaths and lasting trauma across the Soviet countryside. 

Or how about China? 

During China’s Cultural Revolution (1966–1976), smallholders and farmers faced severe disruption as the government under Mao Zedong sought to enforce collectivization and reshape rural life. Although China had already implemented collectivization during the 1950s, the Cultural Revolution intensified the suppression of individual farming and private land ownership, pushing for even greater alignment with socialist ideology. Farmers were forced into collective communes where land, equipment, and resources were shared, and individual autonomy was abolished. 

 Many were publicly humiliated, re-educated, or sent to labor camps. In addition, the chaos of the period meant that agricultural expertise was disregarded, as revolutionary fervour prioritized political ideology over practical farming knowledge. The mismanagement of agriculture, paired with forced collectivization, led to poor yields and food shortages, further destabilizing rural areas and causing hardship for millions of farmers and their families. 

None of this is very encouraging for farmers in twenty-first century Britain. Especially when one considers how ideologically-driven Keir Starmer truly is, if his contributions to back issues of the magazine “Socialist Alternatives” in the early 1990s are any indication. 

But if the socialist goals of the twentieth century were collectivisation and the social engineering of class warfare, what could they be today? If farmers as a community stand in the way, what is the objective that lies beyond them, which the new utopians hope to attain?  

Again, it doesn’t take an “expert” to hazard a guess. Ambitious government plans to iron-clad the countryside in solar panels and wind turbine farms in a drive towards net zero will be made considerably easier once the current landowners are forced to flood the market with cheap land in order to service a hefty inheritance tax bill. All to save us from imminent environmental Armageddon. 

As they listen to what farmers have to say this week, Keir Starmer and Rachel Reeves might do well to reflect on the fate of Jezebel and her king. 

This is a narrative that some can at least imagine. But perhaps that is straying too far into what most would consider conspiracy theory at this point, so let’s back up a little. 

All the same, when a wrong of this magnitude is done to a particular group of people - especially one made up of some of the most dependable, uncomplaining, and hard-working members of society, it seems reasonable to ask the question: Cui bono? Who benefits from this wrong?  

For the answer to that, we shall have to wait and see how it unfolds. 

But in the meantime, it is worth considering a perspective from even deeper in the past. A perspective on the “good” that comes from the ownership and stewardship of the land, especially land seen as a family or tribe or nation’s inheritance. With powerful stories set amid ancient fields the Bible has much to say on the matter. 

In a sense the whole of the Old Testament is concerned with this question. God gives Adam and Eve land to steward and cultivate. And then expels them from it as a consequence of their sin. From Abraham until Israel’s exile, the story of God’s chosen people is profoundly linked to a promised land which is first placed in their hands as a blessing and means of sustenance and support - of life itself. An inheritance to be preciously held, stewarded, and passed on from generation to generation. And yet which is taken away again by the hand of God’s judgement when Israel turns away from its Lord and Sustainer.  

But consider just one story for a moment: that of the humble farmer Naboth and his little vineyard, described in the first book of Kings. This provides an eerily close analogy to the UK government and its current land grab. It is both powerful and chilling.  

One day the state, in the form of King Ahab, decides it would rather like Naboth’s vineyard for itself. Ahab offers Naboth money for it. Naboth refuses, saying, “The Lord forbid I should give you my inheritance.” Ahab - “vexed and sullen” -  rages in frustration, until his wife Jezebel concocts a far more cunning scheme to get him that land, involving lies, slander and ultimately murder. There’s a twist in the tail, though. Once Ahab has what he wants, God sends his prophet Elijah to denounce his wrongdoing and warn him of his (rather grisly) coming fate.  

For those with half an eye on the unseen as well as the seen in this country, the introduction of this family farm tax at this time may come as no surprise. Many in the church have perceived the “spirit of Jezebel” as ascendant on a number of cultural fronts at this moment in our history.  

For Israel, the reign of Jezebel was a dark and uncertain time. And for farmers protesting on Tuesday, they may feel this is no less a dark and uncertain time.  

As they listen to what farmers have to say this week, Keir Starmer and Rachel Reeves might do well to reflect on the fate of Jezebel and her king.  

And for their part, farmers might reflect on the blessing of the inheritance they have received; and what, like Israel before them, they may have done - or not done - in the eyes of God, to jeopardize their chance to pass it on.  

After all, at this point in the story, it’s not too late for either side in these farm wars to turn back.