Danny Alexander picks an important fight with Osborne

Scrap over climate change policy.

In tabling a motion for the Liberal Democrats autumn conference on low carbon policy, Danny Alexander MP, Chief Secretary to the Treasury, has picked an important fight with his boss, the Chancellor George Osborne. Alexander’s feet must be kept to the fire on this if Britain is to have any chance of achieving its legal obligations to decarbonise the power sector.

Alexander’s motion roundly criticizes "the refusal of the Conservatives to acknowledge that investing in carbon reducing technologies has the potential to make an important contribution to long-term growth".

There is no one this accusation can be more squarely aimed at than Alexander’s boss in the Treasury, the Chancellor George Osborne.

Since his autumn 2011 conference speech, Osborne has been almost wholly negative on the low carbon agenda. "We are not going to save the planet by putting our country out of business", he said putting himself squarely at odds with business groups like the CBI and EEF who see the green economy as a key driver of growth. Indeed, the green economy grew by 2.3 per cent in real terms in 2010/11, and made up a third of what little growth Britain managed in 2011/12.

Most recently Osborne was heavily rebuked by the Energy and Climate Change Committee for undermining the development of the government’s flagship Energy Bill, which is intended to bring forward vast amounts of investment in low carbon energy sources. Osborne seems far more interested in making the UK a fossil fuel hub and frightening the wind industry than going low carbon.

The Chancellor is likely to be particularly angered by Alexander’s proposal for the Government to establish a 2030 decarbonisation target for the power sector, in the range of 50 to 100 grams of CO2 emissions per kilowatt hour of energy produced. 2030 is a crucial staging post towards the UK reducing its emissions by 80 per cent 2050, and, while the independent Committee on Climate Change and the Energy and Climate Change Select Committee have recommended that a target of 50g by 2030 for the power sector is adopted, it is something to which Osborne appears firmly opposed. The mismatch between Alexander’s proposed target range of 50g to 100g, instead of the stricter 50g recommended by the Committee on Climate Change, is something that requires an explanation.

It is our view, set out in our submission to the Energy and Climate Change Select Committee, that adoption of a 2030 power sector target is the single most important step the Government can take to provide certainty to industry about the direction of travel for the energy industry. Providing this certainty, we believe, will ensure that energy bills are kept as low as possible and the UK reaps the maximum benefits from growth in low carbon sectors, while at the same time emissions are reduced.

Danny Alexander is right to challenge the Chancellor on climate change policy because going low carbon is the only credible economic policy. It is now time for others to come out in support of the 2030 target and ensure it is adopted by government in the Energy Bill. This includes the Labour party; prominent green-minded Conservative MPs like Zac Goldsmith, Oliver Letwin and William Hague who are witnessing the rapid deterioration of their party’s reputation on climate change; and industry pressure groups like the CBI that are supportive of ambitious emission reduction policies.

Reg Platt is a Research Fellow at IPPR. He tweets at @regplatt

George Osborne. Photograph: Getty Images

Reg Platt is a Research Fellow at IPPR. He tweets as @regplatt.

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How Donald Trump is slouching towards the Republican nomination

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb.

In America, you can judge a crowd by its merchandise. Outside the Connecticut Convention Centre in Hartford, frail old men and brawny moms are selling “your Trump 45 football jerseys”, “your hats”, “your campaign buttons”. But the hottest item is a T-shirt bearing the slogan “Hillary sucks . . . but not like Monica!” and, on the back: “Trump that bitch!” Inside, beyond the checkpoint manned by the Transportation Security Administration and the secret service (“Good!” the man next to me says, when he sees the agents), is a family whose three kids, two of them girls, are wearing the Monica shirt.

Other people are content with the shirts they arrived in (“Waterboarding – baptising terrorists with freedom” and “If you don’t BLEED red, white and blue, take your bitch ass home!”). There are 80 chairs penned off for the elderly but everyone else is standing: guys in motorcycle and military gear, their arms folded; aspiring deal-makers, suited, on cellphones; giggling high-school fatsos, dressed fresh from the couch, grabbing M&M’s and Doritos from the movie-theatre-style concession stands. So many baseball hats; deep, bellicose chants of “Build the wall!” and “USA!”. (And, to the same rhythm, “Don-ald J!”)

A grizzled man in camouflage pants and combat boots, whose T-shirt – “Connecticut Militia III%” – confirms him as a member of the “patriot” movement, is talking to a zealous young girl in a short skirt, who came in dancing to “Uptown Girl”.

“Yeah, we were there for Operation American Spring,” he says. “Louis Farrakhan’s rally of hate . . .”

“And you’re a veteran?” she asks. “Thank you so much!”

Three hours will pass. A retired US marine will take the rostrum to growl, “God bless America – hoo-rah!”; “Uptown Girl” will play many more times (much like his speeches, Donald J’s playlist consists of a few items, repeated endlessly), before Trump finally looms in and asks the crowd: “Is this the greatest place on Earth?”

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb. Only a minority within a minority of Americans, it was assumed, could possibly be stupid enough to think a Trump presidency was a good idea. He won New Hampshire and South Carolina with over 30 per cent of the Republican vote, then took almost 46 per cent in Nevada. When he cleaned up on Super Tuesday in March, he was just shy of 50 per cent in Massachusetts; a week later, he took 47 per cent of the votes in Mississippi.

His rivals, who are useless individually, were meant to co-operate with each other and the national party to deny him the nomination. But Trump won four out of the five key states being contested on “Super-Duper Tuesday” on 15 March. Then, as talk turned to persuading and co-opting his delegates behind the scenes, Trump won New York with 60 per cent.

Now, the campaign is trying to present Trump as more “presidential”. According to his new manager, Paul Manafort, this requires him to appear in “more formal settings” – without, of course, diluting “the unique magic of Trump”. But whether or not he can resist denouncing the GOP and the “corrupt” primary system, and alluding to violence if he is baulked at at the convention, the new Trump will be much the same as the old.

Back in Hartford: “The Republicans wanna play cute with us, right? If I don’t make it, you’re gonna have millions of people that don’t vote for a Republican. They’re not gonna vote at all,” says Trump. “Hopefully that’s all, OK? Hopefully that’s all, but they’re very, very angry.”

This anger, which can supposedly be turned on anyone who gets in the way, has mainly been vented, so far, on the protesters who disrupt Trump’s rallies. “We’re not gonna be the dummies that lose all of our jobs now. We’re gonna be the smart ones. Oh, do you have one over there? There’s one of the dummies . . .”

There is a frenzied fluttering of Trump placards, off to his right. “Get ’em out! . . . Don’t hurt ’em – see how nice I am? . . . They really impede freedom of speech and it’s a disgrace. But the good news is, folks, it won’t be long. We’re just not taking it and it won’t be long.”

It is their removal by police, at Trump’s ostentatious behest, that causes the disruption, rather than the scarcely audible protesters. He seems to realise this, suddenly: “We should just let ’em . . . I’ll talk right over them, there’s no problem!” But it’s impossible to leave the protesters where they are, because it would not be safe. His crowd is too vicious.

Exit Trump, after exactly half an hour, inclusive of the many interruptions. His people seem uplifted but, out on the street, they are ambushed by a large counter-demonstration, with a booming drum and warlike banners and standards (“Black Lives Matter”; an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, holding aloft Trump’s severed head). Here is the rest of the world, the real American world: young people, beautiful people, more female than male, every shade of skin colour. “F*** Donald Trump!” they chant.

After a horrified split-second, the Trump crowd, massively more numerous, rallies with “USA!” and – perplexingly, since one of the main themes of the speech it has just heard was the lack of jobs in Connecticut – “Get a job!” The two sides then mingle, unobstructed by police. Slanging matches break out that seem in every instance to humiliate the Trump supporter. “Go to college!” one demands. “Man, I am in college, I’m doin’ lovely!”

There is no violence, only this: some black boys are dancing, with liquid moves, to the sound of the drum. Four young Trump guys counter by stripping to their waists and jouncing around madly, their skin greenish-yellow under the street lights, screaming about the building of the wall. There was no alcohol inside; they’re drunk on whatever it is – the elixir of fascism, the unique magic of Trump. It’s a hyper but not at all happy drunk.

As with every other moment of the Trump campaign so far, it would have been merely some grade of the cringeworthy – the embarrassing, the revolting, the pitiful – were Trump not slouching closer and closer, with each of these moments, to his nomination. 

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism