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Why Labour's tuition fees row could only be the start of a difficult summer

New appointees at CCHQ and Downing Street are keen to show that the Tories are back in business.

What is the row over Labour's tuition fee pledge really about, and does it matter? The party is under attack from its political opponents and parts of the press for Jeremy Corbyn's pre-election NME interview in which he said he'd “deal with” the issue of tuition fee debt.

The story has been given a fresh lease of life because Guido has got hold of a recording of a shadow minister, Imran Hussain, saying Labour would wipe out all student debt. The Evening Standard has splashed on it: “Corbyn caught out on students” is the headline.

Among the commentariat, certainty that a) Corbyn pledged to eradicate all fee debt and b) this was electorally significant seems to run in exact proportion with people who didn't think the Labour leader was surging before the election.

YouGov, who you'll recall did pick up on what was going on have found that just 17 per cent of 18-24s believed Corbyn's statement meant he'd wipe out all fee debt. More significantly, just 14 per cent of 25-41s, the cohort actually making tuition fee repayments right now, thought they were in line for a debt write-off. There is no partisan divide – Tory voters were actually slightly more likely than Labour ones to believe there was a write-off in the offing.

So does it matter? That much of the political class either pay tuition fees, would have paid tuition fees, or have children who will pay tuition fees is one reason why the issue receives outsized attention, and that matters.

As far as the politics goes: it's worth remembering that for all “tuition fees” became emblematic of the perceived failures of the Liberal Democrats in coalition, that party's ratings began to steadily decline pretty much the moment that Nick Clegg turned up in the Rose Garden with David Cameron. Other than among current students and their parents, the issue isn't a live one, even among fee-paying graduates. (Frankly, were I Labour, I'd rather my fees policy was on the front page of a London newspaper than I would my Brexit policy.)

There is a political reason why it matters. Today's newspapers are pretty thin and the next month looks like going the same way. (That the other big political story is Theresa May's £26 dress gives you an idea of the scale of the news drought.)

News is a lot like an ideal gas: it expands to fill the space available. That from the top of the party to the outer reaches of the frontbench, Labour expected to be involved in another leadership contest this summer means that not a great deal of thought has been put into what, exactly, they are going to fill the summer with. No one at the top of Labour has had a proper summer break since 2014.

On the other side, the new appointees at CCHQ and Downing Street are keen to show that the party is back in business. The opposition should brace themselves for a summer of difficult front pages.

Stephen Bush is special correspondent at the New Statesman. His daily briefing, Morning Call, provides a quick and essential guide to domestic and global politics.

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Does it matter that Westminster journalists have a WhatsApp group?

Well yes, a little.

“#WESTMINSTERBUBBLE JOURNOS CHAT ON #WHATSAPP. NOW THAT’S INTERESTING,” writes the alt-left site Skwawkbox.

Its story refers to the fact that Westminster journalists have a WhatsApp group chat. The site finds this sinister, suggesting the chat could be used to “swap info, co-ordinate stories and narratives”:

“It’s a technology that worries Home Secretary Amber Rudd, in case terrorists use it – but its use by the Establishment for 1984-style message co-ordination would worry many people just as much.”

Skwawkbox’s shock was mocked by lobby journalists and spinners:


Your mole, who has sniffed around the lobby in its day, also finds the suggestion of journalists using the app for terrorist-style collusion a little hard to swallow. Like every other industry, journos are using WhatsApp because it’s the latest easy technology to have group chats on – and it’s less risky than bitching and whining in a Twitter DM thread, or on email, which your employers can access.

But my fellow moles in the Skwawkbox burrow have hit on something, even if they’ve hyped it up with the language of conspiracy. There is a problem with the way lobby journalists of different publications decide what the top lines of stories are every day, having been to the same briefings, and had the same chats.

It’s not that there’s a secret shady agreement to take a particular line about a certain party or individual – it’s that working together in such an environment fosters groupthink. They ask questions of government and opposition spokespeople as a group, they dismiss their responses as a group, and they decide the real story as a group.

As your mole’s former colleague Rafael Behr wrote in 2012:

“At the end [of a briefing], the assembled hacks feel they have established some underlying truth about what really happened, which, in the arch idiom of the trade, is generally agreed to have been revealed in what wasn’t said.”

Plus, filing a different story to what all your fellow reporters at rival papers have written could get you in trouble with your editor. The columnist David Aaronovitch wrote a piece in 2002, entitled “The lobby system poisons political journalism”, arguing that rather than pursuing new stories, often this ends up with lobby journalists repeating the same line:

“They display a "rush to story", in which they create between them an orthodoxy about a story – which then becomes impossible to dislodge.”

This tendency for stories to become stifled even led to the Independent and others boycotting the lobby in the Eighties, he notes.

Of course, colleagues in all industries have always communicated for work, social and organisational reasons in some way, and using WhatsApp is no different. But while Skwawkbox’s “revelation” might seem laughable to insiders, most people don’t know how political journalism works behind-the-scenes. It touches on a truth about how Westminster journalists operate – even if it’s wrong about their motive.

I'm a mole, innit.