The Eric Morecambe government

All the right things in the wrong order.

One of the great comedy lines of all time is Eric Morecambe’s retort to Andre Previn’s complaint about his inability to play Greig’s piano concerto. Grabbing Previn by the lapels he says, “I am playing all the right notes, just not necessarily in the right order”.

This might well be the motto for the government’s efforts to get the economy growing. They are doing some of the right things, just not necessarily in the right places and not really in the right quantities and crucially not with the right focus. Take the variety of state-sponsored lending schemes launched in the last year. When Project Merlin failed to magic up the boost in small business lending that it was expected to, the government launched (or relaunched) the Small Firm Loan Guarantee Scheme (SFLGS), which according to the department for business, was apparently successful, although it failed to get the economy really moving. Three months after it was launched the SFLGS was effectively replaced by the credit-easing scheme billed as Funding for Lending, which would allow banks to borrow at a cheaper rate.

Fast forward another two months and business secretary Vince Cable was out and about this week promoting an industrial strategy that included a suggestion all this may soon be collected together under the umbrella of some form of British business bank.

The details — whether it would include new cash (unlikely), who would be picking the schemes, sectors and firms to invest in and so on — weren’t included. It was a policy announcement coalition style, in effect little more than a floating of an idea to judge its credibility. A business bank in itself sounds like a sensible idea, although simply rebranding lending schemes or creating a fancy new website to house them all in won’t make businesses any hungrier for lending.  

Until that demand for borrowing returns (and to some extent that appetite will require the banks to drop some of the more onerous conditions and rates they are placing on lending at the moment), supply side measures will continue to have little impact.

Some commentators immediately seized on the problematic issue of governments picking winners and images of 1970s British Leyland plants were rolled out again to illustrate why this is such a bad thing. The real problem of course is not picking winners, but rather investing in losers. However, picking sectors seems to be more acceptable. Here, too, there are signs the government is playing the wrong tune. While freeing up planning regulations might help the housing sector, allowing a few homeowners to get the eight-foot conservatory they always dreamed of won’t pull us out of recession.

It is welcome to see a broader acceptance of the fact that there is a role for what shadow business secretary Chuka Umuna calls active government. But this activity will naturally involve selecting sectors to back. One sector that too often gets overlooked as a driver for growth is professional services. What role can the professions play in getting what has become known in some parts of Westminster as “this growth thing” moving?

To address just this question, the Professional and Business Services Group (PBSG) has produced an excellent report Seizing Opportunities for Growth, summarising the work of the sector and suggesting what needs to happen to keep things growing in the right way. The sector remains a major contributor to the UK economy, accounting for roughly 13 per cent of all economic activity, employing 3.5 million people and producing £167bn of GDP in 2010. Crucially it is an international business and accounts for 14 per cent of UK exports and returned a surplus on the UK’s current account of £28.5bn in 2010.

But the report makes it clear that despite the success of the sector there is more than can and must be done to protect and enhance this sector. Chief among these is the expansion of digital infrastructure to create what it calls “smart cities” and the opening up of government data for commercial exploitation and innovation.

The crucial point is that if we get the underlying structures, skills and systems right, then there would be less need to worry about government picking sectors or spotting winners, because everyone would be able to benefit from a more productive environment.

This article first appeared in economia.

Morcambe and Wise. Photograph: Getty Images

Richard Cree is the Editor of Economia.

A woman in an Indian surrogacy hostel. Photo: Getty
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The Handmaid's Tale has already come true - just not for white western women

Why, if the fate of the fictional Offred is so horrifying, is the fate of real-life women in surrogacy hostels causing so little outrage?

When anti-choice Republican Justin Humphrey referred to pregnant women as “hosts”, I found myself wondering, not for the first time, whether everything had got “a bit Handmaid’s Tale.”

I’m not alone in having had this thought. Since Donald Trump won the US election, sales of Margaret Atwood’s dystopian novel have spiked and we’ve seen a plethora of articles telling us how “eerily relevant [it] is to our current political landscape.” In an interview during Cuba’s international book fair, Atwood herself said she believes the recent “bubbling up” of regressive attitudes towards women is linked to The Handmaid’s Tale’s current success: “It’s back to 17th-century puritan values of New England at that time in which women were pretty low on the hierarchy … you can think you are being a liberal democracy but then — bang — you’re Hitler’s Germany.”

Scary stuff. Still, at least most present-day readers can reassure themselves that they’ve not arrived in the Republic of Gilead just yet.

For those who have not yet read it, The Handmaid’s Tale tells the story of Offred, who lives under a theocratic dictatorship in what used to be the United States of America. White, middle-class and college-educated, Offred once enjoyed a significant degree of privilege, but now belongs to a class of women whose sole purpose is to gestate offspring for high-status couples. Much of the shock value of the story comes from the contrast between Offred’s former life – in which she had a name of her own - and her present-day existence. If this can happen to someone like Offred, it is suggested, surely it can happen to any of us.

Or so that is what a white, middle-class reader – a reader like me – might tell herself. Recently I’ve started to wonder whether that’s strictly true. It can be reassuring to stick to one narrative, one type of baddie – the religious puritan, the pussy-grabbing president, the woman-hating Right. But what if it’s more complicated than that? There’s something about the current wallowing in Atwood’s vision that strikes me as, if not self-indulgent, then at the very least naive.

In 1985, the same year The Handmaid’s Tale was published, Gina Correa published The Mother Machine. This was not a work of dystopian fiction, but a feminist analysis of the impact of reproductive technologies on women’s liberties. Even so, there are times when it sounds positively Handmaid’s Tale-esque:

“Once embryo transfer technology is developed, the surrogate industry could look for breeders – not only in poverty-stricken parts of the United States, but in the Third World as well. There, perhaps, one tenth of the current fee could be paid to women”

Perhaps, at the time her book was written, Correa’s imaginings sounded every bit as dark and outlandish as Atwood’s. And yet she has been proved right. Today there are parts of the world in which renting the womb of a poor woman is indeed ten times cheaper than in the US. The choice of wealthy white couples to implant embryos in the bodies of brown women is seen, not as colonialist exploitation, but as a neutral consumer choice. I can’t help wondering why, if the fate of the fictional Offred is so horrifying to western feminists today, the fate of real-life women in surrogacy hostels is causing so little outrage.

I suppose the main argument of these feminists would be that real-life women choose to be surrogates, whereas Offred does not. But is the distinction so clear? If Offred refuses to work as a handmaid, she may be sent to the Colonies, where life expectancy is short. Yet even this is a choice of sorts. As she herself notes, “nothing is going on here that I haven't signed up for. There wasn't a lot of choice but there was some, and this is what I chose.” In the real world, grinding poverty drives women of colour to gestate the babies of the wealthy. As one Indian surrogate tells interviewer Seemi Pasha, “Why would I be a surrogate for someone else if I don't need the money? Why would I make myself go through this pain?"

None of the feminists who expressed shock at Justin Humphrey referring to pregnant women as “hosts” have, as far as I am aware, expressed the same horror at surrogacy agencies using the exact same term. As Dorothy Roberts wrote in Killing The Black Body, the notion of reproductive liberty remains “primarily concerned with the interests of white, middle-class women” and  “focused on the right to abortion.” The right not just to decide if and when to have children, but to have children of one’s own – something women of colour have frequently been denied – can be of little interest of those who have never really feared losing it (hence the cloth-eared response of many white women to Beyoncè’s Grammy performance).

As Roberts notes, “reproductive liberty must encompass more than the protection of an individual woman’s choice to end her pregnancy”:

“It must encompass the full range of procreative activities, including the ability to bear a child, and it must acknowledge that we make reproductive decisions within a social context, including inequalities of wealth and power. Reproductive freedom is a matter of social justice, not individual choice.”

It’s easy to mock the pretensions to pro-life piety of a pussy-grabbing president. But what about the white liberal left’s insistence that criticising the global trade in sexual and gestational services is “telling a women what she can and cannot do with her body” and as such is illiberal and wrong? “Individual choice” can be every bit as much of a false, woman-hating god as the one worshipped by the likes of Humphrey and Trump.

One of the most distressing scenes in The Handmaid’s Tale takes place when Janine/Ofwarren has just given birth and has her child taken from her:

“We stand between Janine and the bed, so she won’t have to see this. Someone gives her a drink of grape juice. I hope there’s wine in it, she’s still having the pains, for the afterbirth, she’s crying helplessly, burnt-out miserable tears.”

Right now there are women suffering in just this way. Only they’re probably not white, nor middle-class, nor sitting in a twee white bedroom in Middle America. Oh, and they’re not fictional, either.

The dystopian predictions of 1985 have already come true. It’s just that women like me didn’t notice until we started to be called “hosts”, too.

Glosswitch is a feminist mother of three who works in publishing.