“I believe every politician,” mum explains. “And anyway, they’re all as bad as each other.”
“But you’ve just said you believe them all!” dad interjects.
We’re on our way to a Jeremy Corbyn rally at a local rugby league stadium, and I’m asking my mum why she doesn’t vote. She explains that it’s because she feels her vote doesn’t count for anything, and to some extent she’s right. We live in a safe seat that has been held by Labour since 1922. She’s not alone, either. Some 15 million people failed to turn out at the ballot box at the 2015 General Election.
Since Corbyn won last year’s Labour leadership campaign, much of the focus of his supporters has been on his need to win over these non-voters. So what better way to test his ability to do so, than to take my non-voting, apolitical mum to a Corbyn rally in Labour’s heartlands to see if she could be persuaded to vote for Labour?
Photo: Jack Taylor / Getty
She certainly fits the bill as someone who Labour should be capable of winning over. You can’t get any more ‘Labour heartlands’ than here. This is – was – mining country (we’ve all seen those juxtaposed coalfields / Labour seats maps). She’s a working class trade unionist on the verge of retirement who has seen her local authority job recently outsourced to a private company. And, crucially for Corbyn, she’s willing to hear him out.
As we park the car, I ask what her impressions of the Labour leader are. “A bit of a…” she pauses to find the right words. “A bit of a grey man.” Nothing wrong with grey, I say, nodding in the direction of dad. In what way? “I don’t think he’s got a personality. He doesn’t sound strong, or that he’s bothered about anyone voting for him.” Fair enough. A grey, weak man with no personality who doesn’t want anyone to vote for him. But could he run the country? “I don’t know whether he could or he couldn’t.” I’ll file that under ‘undecided’.
We head into the stadium, past the usual Socialist Workers Party stands. I always wonder where the wallpaper pasting table industry would be without left-wing rallies and marches. Mum accepts a large VOTE CORBYN placard handed to her. “It was free,” she reasons. A group of striking cleaners are handing out leaflets explaining that since their local authority contracts were taken over by a private company, they had been forced to take a pay cut. The similarities between their situation and my mum’s own aren’t lost on us.
We take our seats in a stand. My dad was born and grew up a couple of streets over, and has been coming to watch rugby here for at least half a century. He reminds me that 17,000 people once saw Featherstone Rovers play St. Helens in the Challenge Cup here. Today’s turnout is more modest, though still healthy for a political rally in these parts. For what it’s worth, other than miners’ marches, I cannot recall any other significant political rallies in this area during my adulthood, so kudos to Corbyn’s team.
Photo: Jack Taylor / Getty
In the crowd I spot Leeds East MP and Corbyn ally Richard Burgon. He ends up sitting directly behind us, and is in a buoyant mood after the recent Labour Leadership Question Time Special, likening Owen Smith to David Brent before proceeding to entertain his friend with quotes from the recent Brent movie. Mum looks around for familiar faces, but fails to spot any. I sense she feels like a fish out of water here.
Mum nudges me. She thinks she has spotted Corbyn sitting on our row. I try to glance over without being obvious, and to be fair to mum, the man does look a lot like Corbyn, even down to the earthy tones of his clothes.
The rally itself is in many ways emblematic of Corbyn’s leadership – somewhat clumsy, occasionally farcical but delivered with conviction and sincerity, and enthusiastically received by supporters. Having been sat in our seats for half an hour, it became clear that the stadium’s PA system wasn’t working. “We can’t hear you!” came the cries as an aide tried to address the crowd. Minutes later, we were being asked to move en masse to a neighbouring stand. This didn’t go down well with some, resulting in the surreal sight of local MP Jon Trickett reasoning with an elderly couple that he was not personally to blame for the failed PA system.
Having given up on the PA system, the speakers – mostly young local Labour councillors – instead resort to shouting at us, hoping their voices would carry.
Photo: Jack Taylor / Getty
Jeremy Corbyn gave a stirring and well-drilled speech which covered familiar territory – the NHS, welfare, workers’ rights, and inequality. The crowd was clearly on his side, applauding and cheering regularly. Even the hecklers were on message. A cry of “We deserved to lose the last election!” was deftly handled by Corbyn, who quipped that he would be making the same point later in the speech.
It was difficult to argue with much of what Corbyn covered in his speech – mum applauded regularly, and not just in an attempt to blend in with everyone else. On our way back to the car I asked her why she had applauded. “Well, he had a lot of good things to say. I agreed with a lot of it.”
So had Jeremy Corbyn persuaded my non-voting, apolitical mum to vote for Labour at the next election? “I don’t think so. I liked what he said but I don’t think I’d vote for him.” Even though she liked the things he spoke about? “He doesn’t come across as a leader. He hasn’t got a big personality, and when you see him fighting with his own MPs, he just doesn’t seem to me like someone who could lead the country.”
It’s a valid point. I wonder how many people who aren’t necessarily interested in politics look at the infighting currently happening in Labour and are turned off. Whether it’s Corbyn or the PLP who are to blame, clearly it’s not a good look as far as Labour’s electoral chances are concerned. So how can Labour turn it around? “He has some good ideas, Jeremy Corbyn, but they need someone who looks and sounds more like a leader.”
Back at the car, mum folds her (free) VOTE CORBYN placard and slides it into the glove compartment. For a rainy day, perhaps.
