Moseley’s By-Election: When the Locals Are Shut Out

Most of the candidates in this by-election do not live in the Moseley ward

Call me naïve.

After forty-odd years in Birmingham’s political circus, I should know better. You’d think I’d have learned that decency and local loyalty count for little once the machine starts whirring. Yet here we are, and somehow, I still find myself disappointed.

When I wrote last month about the curious case of the Moseley by-election, I thought the Liberal Democrats’ decision to bypass Radley Russell: a genuine local, TV producer, and long-time activist, was strange enough. Now, with the campaign in full swing and the party’s press operation churning out upbeat lines about “real change for Birmingham”, the picture has only grown cloudier.

The Party Line

Sir Ed Davey recently breezed into Birmingham, sleeves rolled up, promising “real change” for the city and the region. His speech at the Chamber of Commerce was textbook Lib Dem: “hope, fairness and opportunity”, all the right words, none in the right order.

He talked about the Midlands as the “powerhouse of British industry”, battered by the cost-of-living crisis and Labour’s “damaging National Insurance hike”. Then came the easy shot at Reform UK, warning against “Trump-inspired politics of fear”.

It was well-crafted, well-delivered, and, I have no doubt, well-meant. But it felt utterly detached from what’s happening on the ground in Moseley. Because while Sir Ed was talking about “community renewal”, his own local party had just sidelined the most rooted candidate they had, the embodiment of that very community spirit.

The Candidate That Wasn’t

Let’s not forget how this began. The sad and too-early passing of Labour’s Kerry Jenkins left a vacancy and a legacy in equal measure. The by-election should have been a chance for Moseley’s community spirit to shine through. Radley Russell, local, known, tested, seemed the natural successor.

But the party hierarchy thought differently. They parachuted in one Philip Mills, a man who, by the party’s own admission, lives not in Moseley but in Erdington. Forty years in Birmingham, they assure us. “Not unusual,” they say, for a ward candidate to live elsewhere. Perhaps not. But nor is it unusual for voters to see through that sort of thing.

A party press officer kindly wrote to confirm that “most of the candidates in this by-election do not live in the ward.” Which only deepens the farce.

When politics becomes a game of musical chairs, where the postcode on your ballot paper matters less than your standing with party HQ, it’s small wonder voters shrug and stay home.

The Local Reaction

On Moseley’s streets, the mood is reflective, frustrated, and polite in that understated Brummie way. One resident, a former Lib Dem voter who asked to remain anonymous, summed it up perfectly:

“Policy is important to me, but politics is a compromise. No one party is a perfect fit. I voted for Izzy and Radley because I recognised that they were invested in our community. They cared. I don’t agree on every issue with Izzy, the LTN’s an obvious point of contention. But she cares. She and Radley make our community better. That means a lot to me.”

He paused, then added:

“Labour have presided over bankruptcy, an expensive and failed IT system, equal pay controversy, and a lack of governance. The Tories? Invisible. Yes, they oppose LTNs, but their historic lack of integrity is hard to forget.

Philip Mills, I’ve asked him outright his position on LTNs, but he’s ignored it. Danny’s been an aide to a Labour MP, and Carol has plenty of ideas but no hint where the money’s coming from. I’m already paying 17.5% more for fewer services.

The Greens? No idea what they stand for in Birmingham. They’ve been invisible.

Reform is personally unpalatable. They seem divisive, both nationally and locally. Worcester’s a warning sign.

It’s confusing. Politics is always a compromise, but there’s little to like about any of them.

Had Radley been standing, he’d have had my vote. He’s interested and concerned about Moseley.

The Lib Dems, for entirely selfish and internal reasons, have failed Moseley.”

That’s not the voice of an extremist or a partisan, it’s the voice of someone who cares. And that, in a nutshell, is what the party seems to have forgotten.

A Note in Fairness

Before anyone accuses me of hypocrisy, I’ll freely admit I once represented a ward some distance from home. In fact, I lived a good few miles away, more than Mill’s in fact. The difference, if I may say so, is that I was a pretty decent councillor. I served for nearly fifteen years, turned up rain or shine, and got to know my residents. And, this in no way suggests Mr Mills will be less than a decent councillor.

Yes, I may have leaned rather enthusiastically on the councillor taxi allowance, but I earned the right to call it “constituency travel”. Geography can be bridged; detachment cannot.

To be fair to Philip Mills, by all accounts he’s a decent man. He’s doing his best in a difficult spot, engaging with local groups, raising council questions, trying to build recognition. But no candidate, however earnest, can make up for a party that seems to have forgotten how to listen.

A Party in Decline

The BBC recently revealed that the Lib Dems’ membership has almost halved in five years, from 118,000 in 2020 to around 60,000 today. The Greens, by contrast, have doubled.

It’s a startling figure, but the real story isn’t the numbers, it’s the meaning.

The grassroots engine that once powered the Lib Dems has stalled.

The voters sense it.

The party wins seats, yes, but loses itself in the process.

Moseley is the perfect example: a party still capable of victory but apparently tone-deaf to the people who made it worth voting for.

The Final Word

Maybe the Lib Dems will still win. They’ve got the brand, the boots on the ground, and a national wind behind them. But something in Moseley feels off-key. It’s as though voters always know when they’re being managed, not represented.

The late Kerry Jenkins earned her reputation the old-fashioned way: she was there.

She showed up.

She belonged.

And for all the press releases, the slogans, and the polite evasions, that remains the truth of local politics:

If you forget where you come from, don’t be surprised when the people stop opening their doors.

Postscript

If Mr Mills is successful, I’ll be delighted to advise him on the finer points of councillor life, in particular, how to make best use of the taxi service.

A skill, I assure him, that can take years to perfect.