The fags and booze crackdown that wasn't: or why we need a register of lobbyists

Why can’t we see how much is being spent by private healthcare companies to push for NHS reform, why can’t we see which companies thought the Work Programme was a good idea?

Senior Tories are determined to axe the “Lib Dem hobbyhorse” of a statutory register of lobbyists . . . one Tory source said the proposal was effectively dead as ministers focused on “big issues” instead of devoting resources to an idea cherished only by the Liberal Democrats.

“We need to tackle the issues that the country cares about such as immigration, benefits and the economy,” he said. “It is ironic that Nick Clegg is gunning for the lobbying industry when he was a lobbyist once upon a time.”
 
Now, about this “next big scandal waiting to happen”. Bluntly, one has to wonder at what point our Prime Minister will deem said scandal to have happened. The Queen’s Speech of 2013 was most notable not for what was in it, but for what wasn’t. 
 
For a start, lobbying reform wasn't there. But that wasn't the thing which caused a stink: that was the issue of plain cigarette packaging. It seems a pretty obvious policy to adopt. Rightly, the government is keen to make smoking a frowned-upon, niche activity on a par with watching hentai porn or Morris dancing, and having upped taxes and hidden the packets in supermarkets, this seemed the next logical step. I’m certainly OK with it, and I speak as an enthusiastic social smoker. (I only smoke when I'm out drinking. And quite often when I'm not. Anyway.)
 
Maybe you don't like the idea, but that's not the point. The point is that it was suddenly binned. Why? Because Ukip had been selling itself as the pro-smoking, or if you prefer, pro-lung cancer party? Or was it more to do with lobbying from the tobacco industry? Department of Health minutes show that lobbyists had met government officials in January and February and told them that the industry would have to source its packaging from abroad, resulting in job losses. Other arguments included the contention that it would boost the trade in illicit cigarettes - although commercial sensitivity laws mean we can’t actually see the workings behind this.

Fine. The tobacco lobbyists have as much of a right to put forward their view as anyone else. (For more on this, Thank You For Smoking is a brilliant film, by the way). But then the links between the Prime Minister’s aide, Lynton Crosby, and tobacco firms were exposed - and challenged by a Tory MP, no less. The PM’s spokesman said Crosby had no impact on the decision, but don’t the quotes in that FT story sound rather like his lines in this Mirror piece about “getting the barnacles off the boat”? This, incidentally, is the old lie that we should forget about this - and lobbying reform itself, and gay marriage for that matter - because the Government’s like me trying to walk and send a message on its phone: it can't try to do too many things at once or it'll end up inadvertently sending its mother a sex text before walking into a lamppost.

And of course, it wasn’t just tobacco packaging that was conspicuous by its absence. The Government seemed all excited about a minimum unit price for alcohol a while back - look, it even made a commitment on it - but that’s died a death too. So which argument won the day? Of course there’s a debate to be had about punishing responsible drinkers, but how much weight did threats from the alcohol industry to pull out of the government’s Public Health Responsibility Deal carry? Should we take Jeremy Hunt’s word that it’s been delayed solely due to a legal dispute in Scotland?

Here’s the uncomfortable truth about lobbyists. We need them. Many MPs will freely admit that they couldn’t do their jobs without the information they provide. They highlight the concerns of charities, businesses and individuals who otherwise wouldn’t be heard. But the problem is that without a statutory register, a compulsory code of conduct, and an obligation on all politicians and civil servants to declare their meetings, the industry simply comes across as sordid. Countless Government decisions appear suspicious, when they may very well not be.

Let’s stick with the tobacco industry. Last year we learned that JapanTobacco International has wined and dined 21 MPs, of whom 19 were Conservative. Crispin Blunt had gone to see England play India (£694), and Philip Hammond and his wife had been taken to Chelsea Flower Show (£1,132.80). This raises a serious question, quite apart from who in God’s name would pay over a grand to look at some plants. Given the vast sums of money being splurged on influencing the views of our elected leaders, why aren’t we kicking up a bigger stink about transparency? Why can’t we see how much is being spent by private healthcare companies to push for NHS reform, why can’t we see which companies thought the Work Programme was a good idea?

The Alliance for Lobbying Transparency has made a couple of very good points on this. First, this isn’t a left/right wing issue. Look at how lobbyists in favour of HS2 have worked to “shit up” opponents of the scheme - many of them Conservative. And secondly, the Government’s plans, as they currently stand, are inadequate.

We have to tackle this issue, for the good of our democracy. Lynton Crosby would presumably tell you all this is a distraction from the big issues. But then Lynton Crosby would say that, wouldn’t he? One can only hope that’s a response echoed by our ministers. And we shouldn't just have to hope.

 

A smoker. Photo: Getty

Alan White's work has appeared in the Observer, Times, Private Eye, The National and the TLS. As John Heale, he is the author of One Blood: Inside Britain's Gang Culture.

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Letter from Donetsk: ice cream, bustling bars and missiles in eastern Ukraine

In Donetsk, which has been under the control of Russian backed rebels since April 2014, the propaganda has a hermetic, relentless feel to it.

Eighty-eight year-old Nadya Moroz stares through the taped-up window of her flat in Donetsk, blown in by persistent bombing. She wonders why she abandoned her peaceful village for a “better life” in Donetsk with her daughter, just months before war erupted in spring 2014.

Nadya is no stranger to upheaval. She was captured by the Nazis when she was 15 and sent to shovel coal in a mine in Alsace, in eastern France. When the region was liberated by the Americans, she narrowly missed a plane taking refugees to the US, and so returned empty-handed to Ukraine. She never thought that she would see fighting again.

Now she and her daughter Irina shuffle around their dilapidated flat in the front-line district of Tekstilshchik. Both physically impaired, they seldom venture out.

The highlight of the women’s day is the television series Posledniy Yanychar (“The Last Janissary”), about an Ottoman slave soldier and his dangerous love for a free Cossack girl.

They leave the dog-walking to Irina’s daughter, Galya, who comes back just in time. We turn on the TV a few minutes before two o’clock to watch a news report on Channel One, the Russian state broadcaster. It shows a montage of unnerving images: Nato tanks racing in formation across a plain, goose-stepping troops of Pravy Sektor (a right-wing Ukrainian militia) and several implicit warnings that a Western invasion is nigh. I wonder how my hosts can remain so impassive in the face of such blatant propaganda.

In Donetsk, which has been under the control of Russian-backed rebels since April 2014, the propaganda has a hermetic, relentless feel to it. If the TV doesn’t get you, the print media, radio and street hoardings will. Take a walk in the empty central district of the city and you have the creeping sense of being transported back to what it must have been like in the 1940s. Posters of Stalin, with his martial gaze and pomaded moustache, were taboo for decades even under the Soviets but now they grace the near-empty boulevards. Images of veterans of the 1941-45 war are ubiquitous, breast pockets ablaze with medals. Even the checkpoints bear the graffiti: “To Berlin!” It’s all inching closer to a theme-park re-enactment of the Soviet glory years, a weird meeting of propaganda and nostalgia.

So completely is the Donetsk People’s Republic (DPR) in thrall to Russia that even its parliament has passed over its new flag for the tricolour of the Russian Federation, which flutters atop the building. “At least now that the municipal departments have become ministries, everyone has been promoted,” says Galya, wryly. “We’ve got to have something to be pleased about.”

The war in the Donbas – the eastern region of Ukraine that includes Donetsk and Luhansk – can be traced to the street demonstrations of 2013-14. The former president Viktor Yanukovych, a close ally of Vladimir Putin, had refused to sign an agreement that would have heralded closer integration with the EU. In late 2013, protests against his corrupt rule began in Maidan Nezalezhnosti (“Independence Square”) in Kyiv, as well as other cities. In early 2014 Yanukovych’s security forces fired on the crowds in the capital, causing dozens of fatalities, before he fled.

Putin acted swiftly, annexing Crimea and engineering a series of “anti-Maidans” across the east and south of Ukraine, bussing in “volunteers” and thugs to help shore up resistance to the new authority in Kyiv. The Russian-backed rebels consolidated their power base in Donetsk and Luhansk, where they established two “independent” republics, the DPR and its co-statelet, the Luhansk People’s Republic (LPR). Kyiv moved to recover the lost territories, sparking a full-scale war that raged in late 2014 and early 2015.

Despite the so-called “peace” that arrived in autumn 2015 and the beguiling feeling that a certain normality has returned – the prams, the ice creams in the park, the bustling bars – missiles still fly and small-arms fire frequently breaks out. You can’t forget the conflict for long.

One reminder is the large number of dogs roaming the streets, set free when their owners left. Even those with homes have suffered. A Yorkshire terrier in the flat next door to mine started collecting food from its bowl when the war began and storing it in hiding places around the flat. Now, whenever the shelling starts, he goes to his caches and binge-eats in a sort of atavistic canine survival ritual.

Pet shops are another indicator of the state of a society. Master Zoo in the city centre has an overabundance of tropical fish tanks (too clunky to evacuate) and no dogs. In their absence, the kennels have been filled with life-size plastic hounds under a sign strictly forbidding photography, for reasons unknown. I had to share my rented room with a pet chinchilla called Shunya. These furry Andean rodents, fragile to transport but conveniently low-maintenance, had become increasingly fashionable before the war. The city must still be full of them.

The bombing generally began “after the weekends, before holidays, Ukraine’s national days and before major agreements”, Galya had said. A new round of peace talks was about to start, and I should have my emergency bag at the ready. I shuddered back up to the ninth floor of my pitch-dark Tekstilshchik tower block. Shunya was sitting quiet and unruffled in his cage, never betraying any signs of stress. Free from Russian television, we girded ourselves for the night ahead.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war