As the London East End borough prepares for its re-run mayoral election, what really explains the rise to power of the man who was removed from the Town Hall by the courts two months ago?

Last spring, in a rare break from its love affair with Nigel Farage, Britain’s political media turned its gaze to London’s East End. Like the rest of the capital, the borough of Tower Hamlets held elections for local councillors and the European parliament. Its people, along with those of three other London boroughs, also voted for an executive mayor, a sort of local authority version of Boris Johnson, to be in charge of the Town Hall. It was big night for British democracy. Sadly, in Tower Hamlets it did not go well.

The borough was late declaring its results – in some cases, very late indeed. Votes cast on Thursday, May 22 were still being counted and recounted and recounted again the following Tuesday night. But it wasn’t only the slow pace of the proceedings that attracted unflattering attention. Coverage focused on claims about intimidation at polling stations, rowdiness at the venue where the count took place and other forms of misconduct, including vote-fixing and even tampering with ballot boxes.

The central figure in the furore was a well-dressed, bespectacled family lawyer in his forties called Lutfur Rahman. Running under the banner of Tower Hamlets First, Rahman had been defending the mayoral post he’d won in October 2010, the first time it had been contested in the borough. A Muslim who was born in Bangladesh and moved to the East End as a young child, Rahman had not been getting a good press. Indeed, he’d been besieged by allegations, denunciations and hostile probes since even before he’d become mayor.

His many enemies had called him everything from an inept empty vessel to a frontman for Islamic extremists. He’d been under fire for his desire to sell a Henry Moore sculpture bequeathed to the borough to make up for budget cuts, for his closeness to the local Bengali media, for his relationship with a prominent Brick Lane “curry king”, for the community groups he’d chosen to fund, and for his use of a chauffeur-driven, council-funded Mercedes to get around in.

The cumulative effect had conferred on Rahman a higher profile and a more profound significance than any other local government politician in Britain. He was pilloried as a personification of rotten borough malfeasance, of cultural corrosion brought about by immigration, of the baleful influence of identity politics and of shamelessly “playing the race card” to deflect such attacks. Last November, the Economist dubbed him “the badshah of Tower Hamlets” and said he’d brought “South Asian politics to the East End.” He was a hate figure for a social media mob. Yet when the mayoral result was at last announced in the early hours of Saturday morning, this barrage of bad news appeared to have had limited effects.

The returning officer declared a narrow but clear triumph for Rahman over his only close rival, the Labour Party candidate John Biggs. It was an exceptional result. Had the normal rules of British politics applied, Rahman would have been crushed by the combined weight of an intensive Labour campaign against him, a BBC Panorama programme which only weeks earlier had accused him of misusing public funds to buy votes from the many Tower Hamlets residents who share his ethnicity and faith, and the ensuing decision by the then communities secretary Eric Pickles to appoint inspectors from accountants PricewaterhouseCoopers (PwC) to look into allegations of “governance failure, poor financial management and fraud.”

Labour had expected to win. Biggs, an experienced former leader of the council who represents Tower Hamlets (and two other east London boroughs) on the London Assembly had fuelled his campaign with Panorama’s case against Rahman. Just before polling stations closed I got a call from a senior member of Labour’s London campaign team. He was very confident that Biggs had won. But it was Rahman who gave the winner’s press conference.

“I’m grateful to the people of this borough,” he said. “When I came to this country I couldn’t speak a word of English. If it wasn’t for my teachers and my neighbours helping me, this boy from Bangladesh wouldn’t have had a break in life. I don’t want nothing from this job. I don’t want no fame, I don’t want no name. I don’t do this for the money. When people say I’m a racist or I’m a sectarian, it saddens me. I grew up with black kids and white kids. I grew up with Jewish kids and kids of no faith. The mayoralty is a gift from the people of this borough and all I want to do is make sure I respect that trust. Nothing else.”

He begged his many detractors to desist. But already he was out of luck. On London radio, the leader of the council’s Conservative group Peter Golds described alarming scenes. There were reports that Sadiq Khan, the MP for Tooting who had led Labour’s campaign effort in the capital, had been advised by police not to leave the building for his own safety. The Today programme was astonished and appalled.

And then, in early June, came the initiative that would bring Rahman down. Andy Erlam, a local resident who’d stood as a council candidate for a tiny protest party called Red Flag Anti-Corruption, announced that he was going to use the legal mechanism of an election petition to challenge the mayoral result. The move came with big financial risks. Erlam stumped up the first £10,000 and asked others to chip in. It looked like an uphill struggle. But in February of this year, proceedings got underway in the High Court, presided over by Richard Mawrey QC, a seasoned assessor of election petitions, sitting as a judge.

On April 23, Mawrey announced his conclusions. He did not give Rahman a back alley kicking of the type that recur in the more gruesome East End mythologies, but he did dish out a legal equivalent. He upheld most of the petition’s complaints, concluding that Rahman’s win had been secured with the help of the following “corrupt and illegal practices”: the payment of canvassers; the false portrayal of his Labour rival John Biggs, a white man, as racist; the allocation of grants in a manner that amounted to bribery; the somewhat arcane offence of bringing “undue spiritual influence” to bear on Muslim voters; and the casting of invalid votes.

He also made some observations about Rahman himself. “Although faced with searching, hostile and, it must be said, occasionally mildly offensive questioning, Mr Rahman was unfailingly courteous and polite,” he wrote in his 200-page judgement. But he went on: “With regret, that is the only positive thing that can be said about his evidence.” He continued: “Faced with a straight question, he proved himself almost pathologically incapable of giving a straight answer.”

The election was declared void and a re-run set for Thursday. Rahman was banned from holding public office for five years. His instant removal as mayor was greeted with delight by those who’d been seeking his scalp. But the rejoicing obscured a significant and, for some, inconvenient strand of the Rahman story – why he rose to power in the first place.

The candidate selection shambles



For devotees of labour movement history, the East End is a treasury of totemic landmarks: the match girls’ strike of 1888 at the Bryant and May factory in Bow, a milestone in the evolution of trade unions; the Poplar rates rebellion of 1921, led by Labour mayor George Lansbury who went to jail rather than impose a heavy tax precept on the local poor; the 1936 Battle of Cable Street, which saw Irish and Jewish East Enders unite to thwart a march through their streets by Sir Oswald Mosley and his British Union of Fascists.

Seen by these sepia lights Tower Hamlets is a heritage prime site of proletarian struggle and solidarity. At first glance the idea that Labour would not dominate it at all times feels as odd as imagining Dennis Skinner turning Tory. And for most of the borough’s 50-year history, Tower Hamlets has indeed been solidly Labour. For all but nine of those years, the party has been in control of the Town Hall. Its parliamentary constituencies have almost always returned Labour MPs and the party’s two candidates, Rushanara Ali and Jim Fitzpatrick, were re-elected at May’s general election with large, increased majorities.

Yet a potential for revolt has long been there. East End politics have, ever since the 19th century, often been complex and fiercely fought outside the political mainstream amid poverty, marginalisation and change, and overlapped with religious issues. The experiences of post-war immigrants from what was East Pakistan and became Bangladesh in 1971 generated their own grassroots responses to housing problems and the hostility of the National Front.

This informal community politics, which veterans of the period recall as both righteous and rough, had an uncertain relationship with the Labour party. A 1986 BBC drama King of the Ghetto, written by Farrukh Dhondy (and available on You Tube), explored an intricate world of shifting alliances in which youthful activists, iffy businessmen, Labour factionalism, petty crooks, the appeal of Islam and catalysing outsiders all played parts.

The borough entered the 21st century with Bangladeshi East Enders playing a prominent role in Labour politics. But at the 2005 general election, Labour candidate Oona King was defeated in Bethnal Green and Bow by the Respect Party’s George Galloway, who mobilised opposition to the war in Iraq with an alliance of left wing and Muslim activist groups. Many Bangladeshi voters forsook Labour. The seat was regained for the party by Ali in May 2010, making her London’s and the country’s first MP of Bangladeshi heritage. But that did not mean there would be business as usual. Labour’s Lutfur Rahman problem had just begun.

By then, Rahman had had been representing the historic ward of Spitalfields and Banglatown for Labour for eight years and, in 2008, become leader of the council under the conventional constitutional arrangements the mayoral system was soon to replace. He’d wanted to be the candidate for Bethnal Green and Bow, but lost out to Ali. On the same day she won her Commons seat, Labour strengthened its position on the council. But by then Rahman was eyeing the mayoralty. His party had opposed switching to the mayoral system. Rahman had campaigned in favour, and in a referendum Tower Hamlets residents followed those in Newham, Hackney and Lewisham by opting to adopt it.

Rahman gave his full attention to winning this new prize. Nothing less was going to do. Since the 1990s Labour in Tower Hamlets had been dogged by splits and feuds. John Biggs had been a victim of this: having led Labour back to power in 1994, seeing off a rogue Liberal Democrat administration and Britain’s first BNP councillor in the process, he was then replaced as council leader by his own side. Concerns grew about the quality and loyalties of some of those picked locally to fight elections for Labour. There were worries about the influence of Bangladeshi businessmen on Bangladeshi politicians, the growing call of a politicised Islam and the existence or otherwise of nefarious electoral practices – vote-rigging in various forms. A senior London Labour politician described the Tower Hamlets party as “a cesspit”.

With such matters in mind, the party’s London regional authority had long since assumed control of important local party functions. Rahman was seen as part of the problem, the more so since early March 2010 when he had featured in a Channel 4 documentary with the provocative title Britain’s Islamic Republic. This strove mightily to show that a group called the Islamic Forum of Europe (IFE), based in the same building as Whitechapel Road’s imposing East London Mosque, was infiltrating the local body politic, spreading an extremist agenda.

Jim Fitzpatrick appeared on the programme and said the IFE was “acting almost as an entryist organization, placing people within political parties.” Rahman was accused of colluding with the group to further his political career. Interviewed, he denied any such link but his enemies were far from convinced. If Rahman were to become the mayoral candidate he would have many obstacles to overcome.

Labour’s process for selecting the candidate began in July. A panel appointed by the London region interviewed applicants and drew up a shortlist of three from whom local members could choose. Biggs was one of them. Rahman was not. After seeking legal advice, Rahman complained that the process had been flawed. The London region said it was confident that nothing irregular had taken place, but agreed to a re-run anyway. A new panel was appointed. Interviews took place again. This time a shortlist of five emerged. Again, Biggs was on it. So was Helal Abbas, another past leader of the council who’d also become its present one, succeeding Rahman. Again, Rahman was not included. Again he overturned the decision.

The short version of why he was able to do this, again by threatening legal redress, blames an administrative error, with Rahman first being notified that he was on the shortlist and later being told that he was not. There’s a more elaborate rendering of this story too, complete with amazing subterranean agendas, historic scores being settled and sharp practices being employed. It may be a work of fantasy, but its existence is instructive just the same. A feature of reporting on the Tower Hamlets scene that a high proportion of those to whom you speak have an axe to grind, a bone to pick or a tangled tale of subterfuge they wish to share.

Confounded for a second time, Labour gave up on shortlisting and allowed everyone who wished to be the candidate to go on the selection ballot paper. There were seven, including Biggs, Abbas and finally, at the third attempt, Rahman. The ballot took place on September 4 using the transferable vote system. Everyone who came to vote was required to show their membership card and some form of photographic ID. Muslim women who arrived veiled were asked to reveal their faces in a private space in the presence of a female party official. Nearly 900 people voted, a turnout of more than 70%. Around 20 were turned away for not having the right documents, though some came back with what they needed later in the day.

Rahman emerged as the clear winner, helped by receiving 394 first preference votes. His six rivals mustered 474 between them. He was the Labour candidate at last, but remained so for less than three weeks. On September 21 Labour’s national executive committee (NEC) issued a dramatic statement. It said “a number of serious allegations concerning both the eligibility of participating voters and the conduct of Lutfur Rahman” had been received. These would have to be investigated, which meant Rahman would be dumped and a replacement candidate imposed. Biggs had finished second in the selection ballot, but didn’t get the nod. Instead, that honour went to Abbas.

Rahman considered his options. He again consulted lawyers but with the election date of October 21 approaching fast, just a few days remaining before the deadline for participating passed. He decided to run as an independent. After a short but fierce campaign, the votes were counted at the York Hall in Bethnal Green, historically famous for its steam baths and as a boxing venue. Word on the street was that the outcome was close. As I arrived at the count, I bumped into Jim Fitzpatrick, who was leaving. He had a bleak and distant look in his eye. Soon, I would discover why: Rahman had won the election by a mile.

The populist touch



It was a remarkable victory. But perhaps it should not have been such a surprise. The time I’d spent with Rahman’s campaign had strikingly demonstrated what a force he was in his own backyard. We’d met in Greatorex Street and together walked to its junction with a teeming Whitechapel Road. By the time we got there, five people had stopped to shake Rahman’s hand. A handshake from Rahman can be an intimate affair, the firm clasp enfolded by his free palm as he thanks you for your interest or support.

Round the corner, he was intercepted by one of his most prominent backers, the “curry king” Shiraj Haque who insisted we go directly in to a newly-opened Bengali sweets shop. There, the aspiring mayor pressed the flesh of the young men behind the counter and those of the elderly, bearded Muslim men gathered round a table within, most of whom stood as he approached in his habitually resplendent suit, shirt and tie, his smile a gleaming mile wide.

Animated conversation ensued in Bengali, almost certainly the form of that language spoken in and around Sylhet, where Rahman and many fellow Bangladeshi East Enders have roots. Outside, a crowd was gathering. A reel of green ribbon and a large video camera appeared. And then Rahman became part of an impromptu opening ceremony, a streetwise grassroots celebrity walking among his people, speaking their language, giving them his time. His very presence was an event.

From there, we walked a short way west in the direction of the City, powerhouse of the wealth of the world. At Rahman’s suggestion we popped into Starbucks and there, amid the lunchtime clatter and slurp, he denied every item on the long charge list against him, including that he was effectively the candidate of Respect. “This borough’s very important to me,” he said. “I want to make it a better place. It’s about delivering for the people of Tower Hamlets, whoever you are, to each and every member of our community, whether you are white or black.”

The margin of his coming victory did nothing to lessen the derision for such protestations. It was objected that turnout had been a very low 25.6%, yet this was much the same as for the previous inaugural elections for London borough mayors. It was noted that Rahman’s votes seemed to have come overwhelmingly from Bangladeshis, as if this of itself tainted the outcome. But while no one doubts that those citizens of Tower Hamlets, who comprise nearly a third of its population, have always formed the bedrock of Rahman’s power base, his win in 2010 can’t be attributed to blind ethnic loyalty - Helal Abbas too is of Bangladeshi descent.

The onslaught against Rahman continued. Yet prominent parts of the case against him proved less than resilient. A report for Labour’s NEC found that 16 of the roughly 900 people who took part in the candidate selection ballot might have been ineligible, but couldn’t say if they had voted for Rahman. Even if they had, it would not have affected the outcome. Rahman had won by 182.

The allegations made to the NEC were contained a dossier supplied under the name of Helal Abbas, who had once been Rahman’s close friend. It asserted that Rahman had been “brainwashed” by the IFE. It also said he had been criticised by the then borough commander of Tower Hamlets police, Paul Rickett, for his behaviour in relation to the activities of the right wing English Defence League (EDL).

In June 2010, the EDL had planned a march that would have gone past the East London Mosque. In the end it was cancelled, thanks largely to an intervention by Abbas in his capacity as council leader. However, a small group of EDL supporters did show up. Hearing of this, a group of young Muslim men gathered protectively outside the mosque. The dossier said Rahman had told these youths that the council leadership had colluded with the EDL. It also alleged that Rickett was “so concerned” on hearing of this that despite being on holiday “he actually rang Rahman and expressed his disapproval for the incitement to public disorder.”

According to a letter later written in response to the dossier from the Metropolitan Police’s directorate of legal services, this was not consistent with Rickett’s recollection. The letter said that Rickett had, in fact, been alerted by to the presence of the youths outside the mosque by Rahman, who had then, at Rickett’s request, conveyed to them assurances that the EDL members had left the area. It added that Rickett considered Rahman, together with the mosque’s executive director, to have “acted quickly and responsibly” to dispel misinformation and had therefore “contributed to the area returning to relative normality at that time.”

Rahman continued to come under fire. Peter Golds wrote to Rickett asking him to investigate if Rahman had failed to declare certain financial donations relating to campaign materials and legal fees, but without success. Rahman was accused of being homophobic or at least of tolerating homophobia, a view reinforced in those who hold it by widely reported (and deeply unpleasant) abuse directed at Golds, who is gay, from the public gallery at council meetings. In 2012 the London Evening Standard reported that the council was “threatening” to ban a well-known gay pub’s drag queen strip nights using regulations designed to curb lap-dancing laps. However, Rahman condemned the comments aimed at Golds and the council has always denied seeking to end the strip night. The previous September Rahman had welcomed a march by East London Gay Pride to his borough, sharing a stage with a drag queen and Peter Tatchell. As for the Henry Moore sculpture, most reports failed to mention that it had been moved to Yorkshire in 1997.



People can argue – and they do – about whether Rahman is a sincere diversity liberal or just good at pretending to be. What seems certain, though, is that the relentless stream of venom directed at him deepened his anger with Labour, nurtured his conviction that the establishment was out to get him and strengthened his determination to survive. It may also have working in his favour. A Labour strategist on the party’s disastrous 2010 mayoral campaign remarked on Rahman’s command of “political jujitsu” – the art of turning his enemies’ superior strength against them. And as the forces assailing him became more powerful still, the more astute that observation seemed.

The legacy



The Panorama programme was broadcast at the end of March last year. Eric Pickles deployed the PwC a few days later. Labour exploited these events as best they could in the time remaining until polling day. Turnout was, for the type of election, a very high 47.6% of a registered electorate of over 180,000. This was expected to help Biggs, who accused Rahman of being too preoccupied with his own survival to help Tower Hamlets and all its people look outwards and prosper accordingly. Then came the shock of the result.

Rahman received 36,539 first preference votes (43.38%) under the supplementary vote system (SV) compared with 27,643 (32.82%) for Biggs in second place. When second preferences were allocated to the two frontrunners, the gap narrowed dramatically, showing that plenty of non-Labour voters who understood SV had wanted Rahman gone. Biggs’s total jumped to 34,143 while Rahman’s crept up by less than 1,000 to 37,395. But victory was his by 3,252.

Could his win be put down to dodgy votes? Richard Mawrey’s election petition judgment explained that no conclusion on that matter could be drawn. An exact number of invalid votes cast could not be determined by the court and the law didn’t need it to: “One bogus vote, if arranged by the candidate or someone who is in law his agent, will unseat the candidate, however large his majority,” Mawrey wrote. He added: “Even if voter fraud is established, neither the parties [to the case] nor the court have any idea whether it is the tip of a large iceberg or the few rogue items in an otherwise impeccable poll – or somewhere in between.”

Some of the more perturbing complaints that Mawrey assessed concerned what might be loosely termed dodgy methods or dirty tricks. Did they fall on the wrong side of the law? Mawrey did not find that there had been intimidation at polling stations, albeit “with considerable misgiving” in view of the evidence he’d heard. By contrast, he had little problem finding that Biggs had been falsely portrayed as racist.

Other examples where he found in the petitioners’ favour taxed him more. Drawing on the PwC report, which had been published in November, he described Rahman’s approach to grant-giving as showing “total disregard of the established rules and procedures of his Council.” He found “attractive” the defence that Rahman’s actions might be, rather than bribery, a serious example of what is known in America as “pork barrel politics”, and observed in passing that the use of the term by Rahman’s counsel showed “great daring in the circumstances.” But it was not attractive enough to convince him.

The question of undue spiritual influence was, he wrote, “the most troublesome part of the case” and his adjudication “bound to be controversial”. It was. He said the court was unable to treat Hafiz Moulana Shamsul Hoque, chair of Tower Hamlets Council of Mosques, as a reliable witness. He was clear that a letter signed by Hoque and 100 other Muslim clerics published in Bengali in a newspaper called the Weekly Desh demonstrated their “participation in Rahman’s campaign to persuade Muslim voters that it was their religious duty to vote for him” and that this crossed the line between what is and is not permissible. Hoque and Rahman, he was sure, had been working hand in glove.

And that was the end of Mayor Rahman. But it is not the end of his story. One of his close lieutenants told me he’s had to sell a house to pay his legal fees, but he’s still looking at fighting Mawrey’s judgment. Meanwhile, the police are examining whether to bring criminal charges against him for election fraud. But there’s a bigger picture too.

However you do the maths and whatever you make of the means, Rahman was a popular politician. Most galling for Labour, he was popular at its expense with the very sorts of East End voters it seeks to represent. The party does not emerge from the Rahman saga well. Mawrey described the NEC’s behaviour as “utterly shameful” and even praised Rahman for “courage and resolution” in going it alone. He had something to say too about one of the most persistent lines of media attack on Rahman. The court, he said, had “not heard a shred of credible evidence linking Mr Rahman with any extreme or fundamentalist Islamist movement.” Biggs had given that thesis short shrift too. He doesn’t share the view of some Labour colleagues that the IFE is the heart of a fundamentalist conspiracy: “It’s very lazy politics to say, you know, Margaret Thatcher will steal your children and sell them into slavery, or that Lutfur Rahman will convert the borough into an Islamic Republic. All that sort of rubbish. And it is rubbish.”

The Rahman phenomenon is perhaps better understood in more prosaic terms. He tapped into – and probably shared – the disquiet of fellow Tower Hamlets Muslims about becoming the object of national, indeed global, suspicion and dislike. A local migrant boy made good, his achievement in becoming the borough’s and the nation’s first Bangladeshi and Muslim mayor made him a focus for local pride. Why shouldn’t he be chauffeured in a flash Merc? Isn’t that what leaders do? One of the Labour selection panelists who turned him down in 2010 told me the biggest problem with him was simply that he gave a poor interview: “He didn’t seem up to the job.” Certainly, I found Biggs and, before him, Abbas more convincing than Rahman on both vision and policy detail. And yet Rahman was a formidable campaigner. He played to his core. He got his vote out. He worked the machine.

There may be mundane explanations too for his successes. Following the PwC report, some of the council’s functions are now run by government commissioners. But, though very critical, the PwC report didn’t find wrongdoing in every Rahman decision it examined. Meanwhile, the bulk of the council’s routine business has continued as usual. Amid the corruption theatre, it’s easy to forget that bins and rents have carried on being collected, that schools are performing well and that much of Tower Hamlets is thriving and booming – and, along Brick Lane, scoffing and boozing - like much of the rest of Inner London. Many voters, not only Bangladeshi ones, may have paid little heed to the scandal narrative, felt that the high profile Rahman was doing a decent job and placed their crosses accordingly. And, as yet, only one Tower Hamlets politician has faced a criminal charge for electoral fraud - a Conservative.



The re-run election will be, in part, a test of Rahman’s legacy. Though unable to run himself, he is prominently backing his erstwhile cabinet member for housing and regeneration Rabina Khan in her campaign to succeed him. He spoke in her support at a rally last week, along with local health and education campaigners. The only female who’d been in his mayoral team, Khan praised Rahman, thanking him for encouraging her into politics and, while insisting that she would be her own woman as mayor, vowed to continue his flagship polices of education grants and universal free school meals.

She damned Labour as no different from the Tories. Under a future Mayor Khan, she said, Tower Hamlets would be a national beacon in the fight against austerity and defy the prejudice of the establishment mainstream, national governments, election court judges and all. The mostly male audience stood and cheered. If Khan wins, she’ll become London’s first female executive mayor and the first in Britain to wear a Muslim headscarf. An experienced ward councillor who speaks of knowing what it’s like to be a working mum, it is easy to see how she would be effective on the doorstep.

Labour is not taking her lightly. The Biggs campaign has made repeated overtures to Bangladeshi voters, picking two Bangladeshi councillors as provisional deputy mayors and promising to name May 4 Altab Ali Day in commemoration of the racist murder of a young Bangladeshi of that name on May 4, 1978. On Saturday, a pugnacious Biggs, who is the chief Labour chunterer at Mayor Johnson at City Hall, held a photo call in Altab Ali Park, so re-named in 1998. He was joined by Rushanara Ali and London’s two newcomer Bangaldeshi Labour MPs, Rupa Huq and Tulip Siddiq, who is the niece of the current prime minister of Bangladesh.

Speeches were made in English and Bengali to a primarily Bangladeshi audience of around 200 – a reminder that talk of a herd-like Tower Hamlets “ethnic bloc vote” should be treated with a measure of caution. Also in the crowd was Rahman’s erstwhile “curry king” backer Shiraj Haque, who’s set up a group supporting Biggs. This has drawn a wary response. “Individuals like Shiraj Haque are entitled to support whoever they want,” says Biggs, “but he has had nothing to do with our campaign.”

Yes, it’s a bit edgy in the East End. Already, there are complaints of electoral irregularities, as there usually are: in Tower Hamlets elections, it’s often a case of who can get their vote-rigging allegation in first. On Thursday, polling booths will be closely policed and the count will take place outside the borough. This is the sort of measure Peter Golds has been demanding since even before the rise of Mayor Rahman, but it won’t satisfy him completely - he has long maintained that the police lack the courage to tackle the matter properly.



Be that as it may, the arrangements provide some reassurance to we who regard going out to vote as a reverential act and want election counts conducted amid a library-like hush. For Labour, comfort may yet prove elusive. Tower Hamlets politics may operate in their own special eco-system, but the essence of the problem the party faces there is similar in one respect to those it faces all over the UK – it needs to get its voters back.



Update 10:07. This article originally said that the dossier on Rahman given to Labour’s NEC had repeatedly misspelled Rahman’s forename as “Luthfur”. I’ve been reliably informed that this is an “intricate transliteration from Bengali to English” which even Rahman himself has sometimes used. You live and learn.

