General Election 2015: On the campaign trail in Rochdale – the town globalisation left behind

The Rochdale of recent times has attracted attention for only the worst of reasons: child exploitation and sexual predation.

Cyril Smith, the Liberal MP here for 20 years, molested young males. Many who knew kept these dirty secrets. He died in 2010, still feted by his constituents. It was the town’s defending Labour candidate, Simon Danczuk, who outed him in Parliament.

Then came a modern grooming scandal. In Rochdale, gangs, mainly of Pakistani men, have preyed upon vulnerable girls. Justified rage and revulsion over these crimes have been thrown into the anti-immigrant broth.

Meanwhile, hundreds of asylum-seekers and migrants have been transferred up here to be rehoused; they do not end up in the PM’s and Home Secretary’s constituencies, Danczuk tells me bitterly. Poverty, unemployment and a thick fog of grievance fall heavy on the place.

And now, new disquiet and discord have swept in. Some Muslim residents have been mesmerised by the radicalising forces of Isis, and a small number have allegedly tried to get into Syria. The son of a local Labour councillor, Waheed Ahmed, was released without charge along with five others last week after being detained on the Turkish border.

Danczuk wants anyone prosecuted in future to be kept out of Rochdale. “Emotions are still very raw here given that the beheaded aid worker Alan Henning was driving an ambulance on behalf of a Rochdale aid charity,” he says. “Isis is barbaric and the people in this town will have no sympathy for anyone flirting with terrorists.”

The 48-year-old has his own personal challenges. His wife, Karen, 31, a Labour councillor, flaunts herself on social media. His ex-wife told a tabloid newspaper that they used to do drugs together, a story he did not deny. He has admitted watching porn. And to top all that, Katie Hopkins recently tweeted a picture of him celebrating Pakistan’s national day and accused him of cavorting with paedophiles.

He survives the storms and goes on, looking upbeat, surely made resilient by his past. He was born in Hapton, Lancashire, and later adopted. His adoptive father was Ukrainian – hence the surname, on which he can be a bit prickly – and on immigration policy he sounds like a hard Tory.

At school he was a “free-meal kid”, with no confidence or motivation to succeed. When only 16 and working in a factory, he realised he wanted to be a somebody, and went to night school. Later he joined the GMB union, got into Lancaster University, studied sociology and economics, set up a research and communications company, became a councillor, and in 2010, an MP.

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We meet in Manchester, where I could see how uneven the distribution of wealth is. The periphery looks miserable and neglected – we hear about the North-South divide; not nearly enough about the North-North divide. Inequality here is deep, and Rochdale – a few miles north-east of the city – feels like a town globalisation left behind.

We walk through three very different neighbourhoods, with Danczuk knocking on doors. First stop, Wardleworth, the largely Asian locality, where the women typically stay at home. Most we meet do not speak English, but they all know him.

Constituents expect immediate solutions to their problems and can be rude and demanding. A forty-something man, with a young clingy boy, stops us. His green eyes are hostile. “My wife is in Pakistan. I must earn £18,000 before she can come. How can I earn this here in Rochdale?” he says. “Look at him, missing his mother. What will you do about it?” Danczuk is attentive and kind.

Half way through the day he rushes off to a mosque to attend the funeral of a pensioner. This is not PR. It is a genuine connection. “You will be surprised at how much integration is happening. Much more than in Burnley or Blackburn,” he reassures me. “Geographical segregation in schools is being tackled. We still have big problems, but I do feel good changes are taking place.” He can be infectiously optimistic. You’d need to be, I guess.

Danczuk has been an advocate for small businesses, but I see few of those. A middle-aged white women stops us, thanks Danczuk for tackling sexual abuse. I brace myself for some “Paki bashing”. It doesn’t come.

Next stop, the estate where asylum-seekers live. It is pristine. The little centre upstairs which provides help and is a place to hang out is full of black men from Eritrea, Congo and elsewhere. They say they have experienced no racism. Rochdale is “clean, everything is so nice”. They are aspirational, trying very hard to be good and find acceptance. Danczuk seems so at ease that I wonder if his tough line on immigration is just politics.

Finally to Kirkholt estate, a white area with 1950s houses, some nicely kept. Most residents are either out or ignoring the knocks on the door. Among the few who do come out, some are lifelong Labour voters, other are listless.

A pale young mum, 28, says she has never voted; she looks lonely. One man is furious – “I will not be voting for you” – but doesn’t explain why. A lovely couple talk about their worries about the NHS, and Danczuk gets into robotic election mode. It is the only time he sounds practised and unconvincing.

After spending this day with him, I warm to him. The guts, the drive, moral purpose and those twinkling blue eyes.

Finally we stop for a drink at the social club. It is dark. An Irishwoman is serving. Desolation gets into the pores. This was a jumping place once, a working man’s club, “where Showaddywaddy and the Drifters, Bernard Manning and Bob Monkhouse came and filled the place”. Now, she says, “coloured people use the room, bring their own food and music. I like their music. But it’s not what it was.”

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