By Martha Gill, 18 Jun 2018<\/p>\n
T<\/span><\/span>here was a tussle over the last cardamom flapjack at the cake stall, there was some bitterness from those who had paid the full \u00a335 for a ticket while others got in for free \u2013 but there was one thing everyone at this nice middle-class festival<\/a> in north London could agree on: the establishment was absolutely terrified of them.<\/p>\n \u201cThe establishment hate the idea we are coming together to talk about politics,\u201d boomed the Unite general secretary, Len McCluskey<\/a>, speaking at his party\u2019s music and politics festival, Labour Live, on Saturday, to an audience of largely white middle-class men clutching \u00a34 beers. \u201cI congratulate our leadership for having the bravery to put this on\u201d.<\/p>\n \u201cLook around you: we are some of the scariest people, we are feared by the establishment,\u201d said a fellow panellist, the Labour<\/a> MP Dawn Butler, before taking audience questions: a woman who pointed out that hers was the only foreign accent she had heard at the event so far, and a former councillor candidate who wanted specific mental health resources for \u201cpeople who have stood in elections and failed to win\u201d.<\/p>\n Meanwhile, McCluskey homed in on the source of the fear. \u201cThe Tories fear Corbyn,\u201d he said. \u201cIf Brown or Blair were leading the party now, we\u2019d have already had an election, because the establishment wouldn\u2019t fear them.\u201d This must be because Labour leaders who have made it to No 10 have historically been no threat to the establishment, no threat at all. After all, what could be more establishment than being prime minister?<\/p>\n Other groups afraid of the festival \u2013 which featured a performance of gentrification-themed spoken-word poetry \u2013 included a \u201csea of hostile media\u201d, who were at that very moment raging against its audacity. Unless they were one of the panel speakers, of course, about a quarter of whom were journalists who work for the national media.<\/p>\n Meanwhile, headliners the Magic Numbers, known to your dad for their mellow love songs, made it clear their performance was one in the eye for the man, too. \u201cThis is our music; these are rebel songs,\u201d a huge sign said behind them, as their gentle harmonies washed over a field of families digging out lunchtime Tupperware. \u201cAre you in or out?\u201d<\/p>\n In between events, buoyed by how livid they were making the powers that be, festival-goers defiantly browsed the stalls: stocking up on almond polenta cake, plastic bottles of wine (\u00a320), and gift cards bearing the slogan \u201cfirst tea then revolution\u201d, while in the background a guitarist on the main stage sang about \u201ckicking posh boys up the arse\u201d.<\/p>\n But the main event – most terrifying of all to the establishment – was yet to come: the appearance of the great and powerful wizard himself. As the crowds gathered rapturously by the main stage, a full 40 minutes before his appearance, it became apparent the whole festival had been something of a warm-up act. First, some stirring songs and chants, then, a short film: Jeremy being applauded by thousands, Jeremy being adored by young female activists, Jeremy walking purposefully along the road to rap music. And finally, an introduction from the shadow chancellor, John McDonnell<\/a>, explaining how annoyed the Daily Mail would be by all this. By the time the leader appeared, they were going absolutely ballistic.<\/p>\n And then he started to speak, and it suddenly became apparent why all day his supporters had been talking him up as a fearful threat to the system. The man behind the curtain was no danger to anyone, but a muddled and feeble speaker \u2013 rambling in a strained, breathless fashion, in sentences such as this: \u201cThis is the first time a political party has ever organised something like this: bringing together music, poetry, creativity; bringing together the inspiration that is there in all of us, to learn from each other, and be strengthened, by that learning, from each other.\u201d<\/p>\n Deprived of natural pauses, or sentences that felt like they had ended, the adoring crowds took to cheering whenever Corbyn happened to take a breath. Their leader\u2019s presence was enough: they did not care what he said. But one suspects other voters will be more circumspect.<\/p>\n And this is the point. The festival was a show of Corbyn\u2019s power among hardcore Labour supporters \u2013 in the event the party claimed some 13,000 of their 20,000 tickets were sold, despite predictions<\/a> it would be a total failure. It is difficult to imagine another of the country\u2019s political leaders drawing in such a crowd. But politics is about winning over people who do not already agree with you. And as far as this goes, the Tories shouldn\u2019t be too afraid just yet.<\/p>\n