Yesterday was one of those extraordinary days that few in politics will forget for a very long time. The lucidity and intellectual passion of the speeches inside the Palace of Westminster more than matched by the fervour and barely contained aggression of the protesters outside in the Square, the unique theatre of a big Commons vote contrasting with scenes of stand-off on the streets that we are no less accustomed to seeing.
It was like these two simultaneous dramas were competing for prevalence, vying for the coveted spots at the top of the late evening news bulletins and on the next day’s front pages, as if those dubious accolades were as significant as the political outcome at the heart of it all.
The events of the evening – long after the Chamber had emptied, the business of Parliament had moved on and ministers had breathed their sighs of relief – ensured that there could only be one winner in the media stakes. Few, however, were celebrating.
For the protesters, it was a shocking culmination of a day that did nothing to endear students of all ages to the wider, tax-paying public. For the Met Police, it was a distraction from the earlier failures of both crowd and self control that have become depressingly characteristic; but not one they would have chosen. For the politicians, it was a graphic illustration of the sheer strength of feeling their actions had aroused.
Another subtle conflict that has raged throughout the weeks of protests concerns the primary motivation and target for the students’ anger. Many seem unable to decide whether their main object of resentment is the policy itself – the responsibility chiefly of the Conservatives, who have long supported the idea and who embraced the Browne report most enthusiastically – or the U-turn by Nick Clegg and the rest of the Lib Dems on their infamous pre-election pledge.
We may have to wait until the next election to find out for sure. Labour, however, are taking no chances. When asked whether he would promise to reverse the decision if in power, Ed Miliband’s response was effectively to say ‘my only pledge is not to make any pledges’.
Such a response must be a source of frustration for a man accused of inaction, indecision and even anonymity, but he is acutely aware that this episode has once again critically impaired the public’s willingness to trust the word of politicians.
David Cameron has also been seen to be largely steering clear of this potentially personally damaging brouhaha, at least until his input was absolutely necessary – namely, PMQs on the day before the vote. This has led to suggestions that he is consciously offering up Clegg and Vince Cable – two senior Cabinet ministers – as the fall guys for this policy.
This may be a cynical and scathing verdict, but is a far less problematic outcome for the Prime Minister than having himself tarred with the same traitorous brush. Indeed, of all the groups that could revolt against the government’s austerity (in its various guises), there are many, much tougher foes for the government to overcome than a bunch of rowdy college and university students, inexperienced in this kind of battle.
The NUS and its troops insisted yesterday that their race is far from run, and with more parliamentary showdowns required to finish the job of implementing the complete package – accompanied, no doubt, by more street stand-offs – they are not wrong.
Perhaps they should leave the royals out of it next time, though.
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