I don’t believe in celebrating when a political opponent dies. You celebrate when they lose power. Celebrate their political demise, not dehumanise them by celebrating their passing as a person.

So I celebrated as an 18-year-old student when Margaret Thatcher was deposed as prime minister in 1990, but when she passed away this week I just felt sadness for her as a person, sympathy for her supporters whose sense of loss is genuine, respect for her achievements as a politician and national leader, and sadness about the division and trauma and unnecessary suffering she had brought to Britain while I was a child.

Had I known in 1990 that her removal from power was actually the key to the Tories winning a fourth general election in 1992 I probably wouldn’t even have celebrated then.

Unless you were around in a tribally Labour family in the 1980s it is impossible to grasp the sheer hatred, fear and impotent rage that Thatcher induced. It felt like every time she came on the radio (we came very, very late to owning a TV in my family!) my dad would start shouting. I was brought up to (correctly) attribute the myriad failings of our local public services to her cuts and the tightness of our family budget to her stinginess with the benefits my family got because of low pay. I think in my child’s mind I held her responsible for my non-ownership of a Millennium Falcon toy or any Star Wars figures, the must-haves back then. In a highly political family it felt like every institution we held dear was being attacked by her, one after another. We weren’t directly affected by her economic and industrial wrecking campaign because my dad wasn’t a miner or industrial worker, but we lived near enough to what was then the Kent coalfield to know people and villages that were devastated by Thatcherism and also to know children of coppers who had revelled in the overtime money they got for being on the other side of the picket line.

The irony is that while I owe my life being saved twice to Labour’s NHS (as a premature baby and a cancer survivor) I owe my educational life chances to Thatcher’s assisted places scheme, which delivered me a free place at  Kent College, a minor public school (also the alma mater of her policy adviser John Redwood), which if it didn’t iron out my Estuarian vowelled Kent accent did kit me out with a taste for public speaking and debating, reinforced centre-left values, and foolhardy levels of self-confidence.

But the tragedy was that high Thatcherism with its deeply ideological approach combining monetarism, deliberate promotion of unemployment (a ‘price worth paying’ chancellor Norman Lamont said as he presided over the second  – post-Thatcher – Tory recession in 10 years), deindustrialisation, running down of public services, and privatisation (‘selling off the family silver’ as Harold Macmillan, a more compassionate generation of Tory prime minister put it), was not inevitable.

She may have implemented those policies and destroyed the postwar social democratic consensus, but Labour let her do it.

We did it in 1979 when the unions effectively destroyed Jim Callaghan’s, until then, rather good chances of re-election with the industrial chaos of the Winter of Discontent.

Then we took a situation where we could have quickly won back power – a 13 per cent swing in the 1979 Southend East by-election, gaining 35 councils in 1980, poll leads of up to 16 per cent, and threw it away. We self-destructed in an orgy of infighting. The Hard Left dragged our policies away from where the electorate was and an element of the right lacked the stomach to keep fighting and flounced out into the political dead-end of the SDP. Thank goodness that under Ed Miliband’s leadership we have not repeated that ghastly response to defeat.

The Labour party of 1983 presented voters with a choice that was no choice. We told people that if you wanted lower unemployment and less privatisation and to protect schools and the NHS you could only have this with an added dollop of unilateral nuclear disarmament, leaving the EEC, and effectively a siege economy, all to be presided over by the less-than-prime ministerial figure of Michael Foot. It is a miracle and a testament to the sheer pinch-your-nose loyalty of Labour’s core vote that we came away with the 209 seats we did, and survived as a party for long enough for Neil Kinnock, John Smith and Tony Blair to slowly rebuild our credibility.

This was not even the worst we could have offered – another fraction of a percent in the deputy leadership contest in 1981 and Tony Benn, not Denis Healey, would have been in our leadership team – he inspired even more fear and hatred among centrist voters than Thatcher did on the left.

People talk about the divisiveness and conviction politics of the 1980s like it was a good thing. I think it was vile – the major parties presented voters with the electoral equivalent of choosing between plague and pestilence – the Tories won because it turned out Tory pestilence had a 40 per cent core vote and Labour plague only a 27 per cent one.

Some of what Thatcher did we should have been in power doing. We should have helped council tenants become homeowners. That is a leftwing idea. We should have made unions ballot before going on strike. That is a leftwing idea. We should have released companies like BT from state control. There is nothing particularly leftwing about state ownership of telephones, particularly when it is an incompetent service. We should have defended the Falklands from a fascist junta – and to Foot’s credit as opposition leader he backed Thatcher on this. We should have renewed Britain’s nuclear deterrent and stood up to the Soviet Union. There is nothing leftwing about being soft on defence or on dictatorships.

A Labour government led by Healey, perhaps succeeded by Roy Hattersley then John Smith could have done all these things. It could have modernised the British economy in a constructive way, investing in new industries, without destroying our industrial base or the communities that went with it. It could have safeguarded the essence of the social democratic consensus and with it a kinder, gentler, more compassionate Britain. It could have given a chance in life, a decent life worth living, to the people that Thatcherism threw on the scrapheap.

I am sorry for Thatcher’s life ending and I genuinely feel sympathy for her family and political supporters at their loss. But I mourn the Britain that could have been without her 11 years in power, and the lives that could have been better lived in that alternate Britain of tough but wise and compassionate Healey and Hattersley governments. And I don’t blame her for pursuing the Tory dream – that’s what Tories do – I blame us for letting her get away with it.

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Luke Akehurst is  a councillor in the London borough of Hackney, writes regularly for Progress here and blogs here.

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Photo: Robert Huffstutter