Nearly over now, then – so let us count the cliches used to decry the Labour leadership contest. "Interminable," claims the Daily Telegraph. "The least inspiring contest ever," says a columnist in the Independent. "A bunch of clueless clodhoppers," reckons the characteristically emollient Mail. Now, the hysterically received Blair memoirs add another commonplace to the noise: that beneath the alleged tedium lurks grave danger – and if it isn't careful, Labour will stray from the New Labour path, and lurch into irrelevance.
I dutifully bought my copy of A Journey today, and eventually reached the postscript, in which Blair sets out his vision of the future. What awaited was a mess of suggestions, most of which seemed to favour a model of debate that would effectively be meaningless. For Labour, the ideal path entails "remaining flexible enough to attack the government from left and right". Even as the welfare state is hacked down and our few remaining social democratic institutions put under threat, "defining where you stand by reference to the opposite of where the other person stands is not just childish, but completely out of touch with where politics is today". The "statist, so-called Keynesian response to the economic crisis" is a busted flush; even starting to rein in pay at the top would do "more harm than good". Labour, as he sees it, "should criticise the composition but not the thrust of the Tory deficit reductions".
Behind all this there is a mindset that is closer to a pathology than thought-through politics. Even after the crash, all that is contemporary, sensible and electorally advantageous is reduced to what Blair calls "liberal economic policies, market reforms in welfare and public services, and" – note the graceful use of language here – "engagement and intervention abroad".
Anyone who questions this is is in danger of slipping back into the disgraced past. Under every bed, there lurks an "old Labour" red; even in the highest circles (witness an early reference in the book to Alastair Campbell: "much more old Labour" than some people, apparently) there is a constant danger of a return to a nightmare world of picket lines, nationalised everything, and serial Labour losses. In Blair's rather paranoid account, even Lib Dems have "old Labour" instincts: and the coalition will prosper only if it squashes them.
Some salient facts. Between 1997 and 2010, Labour lost 5 million votes, of which 4 million went under his watch. In the eight years up to 2005 the party also mislaid over half its membership (often maligned as a rabble of unrepresentative anoraks – but still the chief means by which Labour actually wins elections). At his last general election, moreover, Blair led the party to a truly hollow victory: the support of 22% of the electorate, an outcome sufficiently chastening that he stood outside Downing Street and claimed to have "listened and learned". In both the noise surrounding publication or the text itself, almost none of this has been mentioned.
A typical leader in one of today's papers paid tribute to his three "emphatic" victories, and in his Andrew Marr interview Blair looked back on the 2010 defeat with the same black-and-white analysis. "If we departed a millimetre from New Labour, we were in trouble," he said, as if he bore none of the blame. Far from what the memoirs call "an approach based on reason, on the abstinence from ideological dogma", this is its complete reverse: the thinking of the zealot, as full of dogmatic stupidity as the hard-left politics Blair still sees round every corner.
Of late – as evidenced by warnings from Blair, Mandelson and those voices who share their view of things – this has resulted in one of the more depressing aspects of the Labour leadership contest: claims that "Red" Ed Miliband is a dangerous old Labour throwback. No matter that his handful of policy proposals – for the tentative roll-out of a living wage, or a graduate tax, or the high pay commission also supported by his brother – are modest and somewhat cautious. In the wake of an editorial claiming that even his brother was in danger of drifting too far to the left, one Times columnist – the venerable David Aaronovitch – compared him to Michael Foot.
On Monday, I turned on the Today programme to hear another pundit say: "He is properly leftwing. Really leftwing. He wouldn't admit this now, but if you'd asked him a few years ago who his political hero was, he'd have said Tony Benn. And I don't mean cuddly, modern Tony Benn, I mean Tony Benn in his pomp, in the 1960s and 1970s."
The Labour party, I would imagine, has the sense to understand that this is the stuff of fear, voiced by people with no real understanding of either the real world, or the problems Labour has to address, and soon. At least twice in his book, Blair parrots a rollcall of English towns – "Hastings, Crawley, Worcester, Basildon, Harrow" – whose people, he seems to imagine, have experienced no downside of his beloved "liberal economic policies", and even as the cuts bite, will not want anything significantly different. One is reminded of a priceless sentence, uttered circa 2008 by an unnamed Labour minister, seemingly convinced that the stockbroker belt ran far wider than once thought. "£150,000 isn't much money in Reading," he reckoned. Just to set the record straight, half the people who work in that town earn less than £21,000 a year.
No housing shortages in "middle England", surely; no insecurity at work, or time poverty, or fretting about the debt that people's children now rack up in pursuit of an education; come to think of it, none of the bundle of worries that always sit under all those concerns about immigration. Even with the application of work and imagination, Blair and his cheerleaders allege, modern social democracy has no hope in these places; and by implication, it has no realistic chance at all. This is not just a counsel of despair, but a desertion of Labour's most basic mission. In A Journey, the basics of the party's fate are summed up with the unbending simplicity of a dalek: "Labour won when it was New Labour. It lost because it stopped being New Labour."
Towards the end of the book, its author says he has come back to the fray to find politics in disarray, and feels more motivated to impart his gospel than ever. "I find my old world in a state of despair and feel shocked and galvanised by this," he says. "Perhaps that is because I am removed from it and so think I see it more clearly."
The next bit is in parentheses, but it's among the most telling sentences he writes: "This could be an illusion."
It is, of course. It probably always was.
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