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The Independent Group: A moment of destiny, or destined for the dustbin of history?
In Luton South, the local party chair quotes Trotsky to express his disgust at the defecting MP Gavin Shuker. But might history actually be on the side of the new movement, asks Adam Lusher

Itâs not every day you get to rock a flat cap and give a Trotsky turn of phrase to the BBC News from Luton. But Markus Keaney, chair of Luton South Constituency Labour Party, managed it all this week, when he discussed his recently departed ex-comrade Gavin Shuker, the constituencyâs MP.
Keaney looked forward to the day when the defector to the Independent Group would be âconsigned to the dustbin of historyâ and âannihilatedâ by an official Labour candidate at a by-election. His words were uttered with the cold rage of a man who knows his local party committee procedure and is prepared to use it in the cause of âpassionate new members enthused by the promise of a break from neoliberalismâ â as he described the post-Jeremy Corbyn intake in his September Morning Star article, written after a no-confidence vote taken by party members against Shuker was carried.
But, to refer to the context in which Trotsky popularised the âdustbin of historyâ line, who here were the doomed Mensheviks, and who the 1917 Bolsheviks arising to greet the new post-Capitalist dawn? As the Independent Group went cross-party with the arrival of three defecting Conservatives, were we witnessing the start of something like Emmanuel Macronâs French En Marche! movement? Or would Keaney still get his annihilation moment?
Could it be the Corbyn project that is doomed? Perhaps lessons could be learned in Luton, a town with some claim to being a bit of a bellwether. Until Shuker upset the trend by getting elected for Labour in 2010, the Luton South constituency had gone to the party that won the general election in every contest since 1951.
And with Luton South having recorded a higher-than-average 54.6 per cent Leave vote in the EU referendum, the MP may find himself having interesting conversations when he returns to his constituency to spread his message that Corbyn is âcontent to enable the hard Tory Brexitâ.
But before tackling the big, sexy Brexit challenge, Shuker might need to attend to more prosaic matters. Like reminding his constituents who he is. In the calm of a full English breakfast at the Hardware Cafe, Castle Street, what seemed to have filtered through to Luton South was felt not so much as political earthquake, more as slight ripple in the left-right continuum. Of the kind that could engender the response: âGavin Shuker, the name rings a bell, is he an MP?â
Peopleâs immediate, if half-formed, reaction also seemed to be disapproval of anyone who leaves their party. âReneged on the Labour Party, absolute rubbish,â was the instant verdict of Paul Gallagher, a 50-year-old carpenter. âThe whole way he has gone about it, waltzing out of the party. You never change things from the outside. He should stand his ground and try to f***ing sort it from inside.â
There might be another party we could vote for, with our vote meaning something, not the current dual system. A bit like the Gang of Four. That didnât happen, did it? But I am a born optimist
And yet. The more you spoke to Gallagher, and his workmates, and others, the more you sensed a certain sympathy for Shuker and the points he was making about âabuseâ in the party, about failure to oppose hard Brexit, and about Jeremy Corbyn.
Painter and decorator John Brydson, 68, initially described himself as a Tory-voting Brexit supporter. But it turned out the backstory was more tangled, in ways that might favour Shuker, not Corbyn. âI was Labour for 50 years,â said Brydson. âBut when Corbyn came in, I changed to Tory. There will never be a Labour government while he is at the head of the Labour Party.â

He too didnât like the way Shuker had left the party. âBut yeah, I would vote for him, even though the way he went about it was wrong.â
There was a moment of reflection when you mentioned Keaneyâs prediction that a by-election would see Shuker âannihilatedâ by an official Labour candidate. âI donât think so,â said Mr Brydson softly.

Gallagher, meanwhile, seemed to be moving a long way in a short discussion, from âabsolute rubbishâ to âfair play to himâ. He was an unwavering Labour man, he insisted: âAll my life, working-class, always vote Labour.â
But when you put him on the spot, and ask him to pick sides in a by-election fight between Shuker and a Keaney-approved Corbyn Labour candidate, there was a long pause. âChrist, you would have to go with Shuker, wouldnât you? You would have to go sensible. The bloke with the cap, a proper lefty, wasnât he? Too much hatred in his voice, I thought.â
The more ardent anti-neoliberal Corbynistas may not wish to be reminded of the old aphorism that the Labour Party owes more to Methodism than Marxism. But it was impossible to ignore as you sat in the Hardware Cafe and pondered the new battle for the soul of British politics.
The view from the cafe windows was dominated by the Mount Tabor Primitive Methodist Chapel, built 1897, grandeur unfaded, the names of the Victorian worthies who supported the project carved in stone for all to see. Methodism still seemed to be triumphing over Marxism in 2019. Al Short, 51, social worker and Christian, arrived. He still believed in the ideals of 2015, when Corbyn was promising a âkinder, gentler politicsâ. He regarded the Labour leader as âa pretty principled, genuine kind of guy, who cares for the poor, offers a genuine alternative.â
And yet in a very gentle, very Christian kind of way, and despite his vote for Brexit, Short seemed to be warming to Shuker and this new Independent Group. âI am a Christian. Gavin Shuker is a Christian. I have a sense of rapport with him.â

He even went as far as hoping the gang of 11 (and counting) could prove a more successful update of the Gang of Four, who for a brief 1980s flurry had looked as if they might reshape British politics by leaving Labour and forming the SDP.

Short smiled, as if imagining a mildly exciting future: âThere might be another party we could vote for, with our vote meaning something, not the current dual system. A bit like the Gang of Four. That didnât happen, did it? But I am a born optimist.â
Shuker will face an altogether feistier proposition in Shortâs support-worker colleague Lorna Calliste, 42, east London-born daughter of a Trinidadian mother, now a mum to four kids by an Irish builder, and a committed Brexit supporter. âNo, no, no,â was the unequivocal response to Shukerâs talk of taking a stand against âhard Tory Brexitâ.
But if Calliste wasnât exactly brimming with excitement for Shuker and the Independent Group, she didnât seem a natural fit with Corbynâs Labour either. âLabour has gone silly. They want to let everyone in the country. Why canât we have an Australian system where we let someone in if they have something to offer?â
In the Hardware Cafe, you began to sense that going against his constituencyâs Brexit vote would not fatally undermine Shuker, and that, however fuzzily, other elements of what the Independent Group was saying had hit home.

Luciana Berger may exist in the Luton South consciousness as âthe lady with the dark hairâ, but many agreed with her that âwhatâs happening with the antisemitism is disgustingâ. And the notion that politics is âbrokenâ sold itself.
Stephen McNeilly had been excited by politics, once. Now the 39-year-old electrician placed himself firmly in the camp of âthe name Gavin Shuker rings a bellâ. His disillusion with politics was a badge of pride, enlivened by references to Corbyn as âan absolute plankâ; to Brexit as a âf***ing shamblesâ; to former Luton South MP Margaret Moran, whose life fell apart when she was caught âfiddling her expensesâ.
My son, his friends, many young people: they donât know what happened in the past, and they want to give Corbyn a try
And yet, in almost the same lament, McNeilly seemed to be crying out for someone to inspire him and all the others languishing in the ranks of the disillusioned. âThereâs no Martin Luther King figure,â he said. âNo one with fresh ideas, no one with a voice, to make people stand up and listen.â
Vividly expressed disillusion began to sound a little like an open invitation to Shuker and his Independent Group â all the more so when McNeilly turned to his own, conflicted feelings about having voted Leave.
âEvery single thing I voted for â stopping immigration first and foremost â will be made null and void. Weâre going to be financially crippled, kicked in the teeth. The dreadful thing is, I would want to reverse it and vote Remain.â
Perhaps all the conversations seemed to be running Shukerâs way.
But then, Edward, a rather thoughtful 68-year-old, looked up from his book, and wondered whether we might be seeing things through a bit of a mainstream media haze. âMy sonâs 29,â said Edward, âAnd, I think, rather fooled by Corbyn. Somehow Corbyn has got into young people, by young personâs media. I suppose I am a centrist dad. Iâm so old I remember the Labour government of the 1970s that led us into trouble, into strikes.
âBut my son, his friends, many young people: they donât know what happened in the past, and they want to give Corbyn a try.â
But do they really, still? The University of Bedfordshireâs campus offered the chance of a probably wildly unscientific straw poll of the much-discussed millennial generation. It left you wondering whether the fever of Corbyn-mania may have cooled somewhat since the heady days of the June 2017 general election.

Kieran Nixon, 23, was president of the student union, but when he spoke in a personal capacity he began to sound like a lot of others on campus. He voted Labour in 2015 because his parents did. He voted Labour in 2017 because of genuine enthusiasm for Corbyn. âHe kind of set up this persona,â said Nixon, âthat he was new, fresh, âdown with the kidsâ, articulate. I saw him going to festivals, saying he would clear the student loan debt.
âBut now it just feels like it was a pipe dream. I donât think I can see him being prime minister. He seems short of ideas, too quick to pass the blame to Theresa May. He doesnât come up with any worthwhile solution to Brexit that could get accepted by Brussels.â
âMaybe,â said Nixon, recalling that summer when he was 20 months younger and Corbyn was at Glastonbury, âgoing to festivals doesnât really say professionalism.â

Daisie Johnson also liked the Glastonbury appearance, at the time. âCorbyn tries to talk to young people,â said the psychology and criminal behaviour student. âWhich is more than you can say for Theresa May.â
But now, the full impact of the EU referendum â in which she was too young to participate â has hit home: âThe world seems in turmoil, but I donât hear much about Jeremy Corbyn opposing Brexit. That doesnât seem to come up on the news feed. Iâm probably more for this other guy if he is against Brexit and Corbyn isnât.â
So no, Johnson didnât know who âthis other guyâ Shuker was. And she didnât really see how the Independent Group could turn a bit of House of Commons seating rearrangement into real change. âWhereâs the majority to do anything? I donât really get it.â

But nor did McNeilly really get it when we began talking, and now he was at least a little interested. âIâll try to catch a glimpse of what heâs saying,â said the 39-year-old. âMore power to the guy: a journey of 1,000 miles starts with one step.â
So what if that first step will be Shuker telling us who he is? They sneered at Macron to begin with, and he made it into the Elysee, avoiding the dustbin of history. Keaney might be annoyed, but perhaps Shuker can take comfort in the fact there was even a time when no one knew who Trotsky and the Bolsheviks were either.
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