Labour's right to join the economic debate is under attack

Osborne's attempt to create a sense of equivalence between Fred Goodwin and Ed Balls is a threat to

George Osborne's speech had two distinct purposes. The first and most obvious was to show that the government is not complacent about the stagnating economy and the effect it is having. This he aimed to do with a rash of announcements, the most significant of which is surely the interest in "credit easing", by which the Treasury lends directly to firms. As my colleague George points out, this looks like a tacit admission that Project Merlin - the deal between government and the banks to increase the supply of private sector credit - is failing. It is worth adding that other devices that were meant to stimulate the economy by disbursing government cash, notably the regional growth fund, are also implicitly belittled by this move. The growth fund has yet to actually hand out any money.

The second of Osborne's tasks was to reinforce the coalition's central political message about Labour's responsibility for creating the crisis. This Osborne did with a sleight of rhetorical hand, embarking on what sounded like an attack on the bankers but blended seamlessly into an attack on the shadow chancellor. The aim is to create some sense of equivalence in people's minds between the dereliction of responsibility shown by the likes of Fred Goodwin at RBS and the fiscal management of the last government. It is a crude device but one that poses a big threat to Labour. Osborne doesn't want to beat the two Eds in an argument on the economy, he wants to trash their moral credentials to even participate in an argument about the economy.

Given how effective the Chancellor has already been in promoting his account of Labour profligacy as the prime cause of austerity, Miliband should be worried by this renewed assault on his entitlement to have a view. The argument Miliband made in his conference speech - that the Tories' economic analysis represents the last gasp of a failed model of irresponsible free market capitalism - requires a degree of historical and ideological perspective that many voters don't bring to bear when apportioning blame. Labour badly needs a sharper rebuttal.

One other point on Osborne's political calculations: The heavy emphasis on the failings in the eurozone was inevitable, but the tone, essentially blaming continental governments for creating the conditions that are now holding back the UK economy, was new. The Chancellor clearly felt the need to lash out at "Europe" in some way to appease the large numbers in his party who see the single currency crisis as an opportunity to renegotiate Britain's whole settlement with Brussels. But I sense another element to this argument. Osborne lavished praise on William Hague for his 2001 election campaign dedicated almost entirely to demands to "save the pound". The Tories lost by a landslide. Now that the euro is in dire trouble, Tory strategists are sensing an opportunity to salvage some credibility from their wilderness years. This isn't so much a eurosceptic argument as part of the Tory "decontamination" agenda. Osborne seems to be re-branding old political failures as a kind of foresight.

The Chancellor doesn't just want to monopolise economic argument in the present and future, he wants to rewrite the past too.

Rafael Behr is political columnist at the Guardian and former political editor of the New Statesman

ELLIE FOREMAN-PECK FOR NEW STATESMAN
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Craig Oliver, Cameron's attack dog, finally bites

A new book reveals the spiteful after life of Downing Street's unlikely spin doctor.

It must be hard being a spin doctor: always in the shadows but always on-message. The murky control that the role requires might explain why David Cameron’s former director of communications Craig Oliver has rushed out his political memoirs so soon after his boss left Downing Street. Now that he has been freed from the shackles of power, Oliver has chosen to expose the bitterness that lingers among those on the losing side in the EU referendum.

The book, which is aptly titled Unleashing Demons, made headlines with its revelation that Cameron felt “badly let down” by Theresa May during the campaign, and that some in the Remain camp regarded the then home secretary as an “enemy agent”. It makes for gripping reading – yet seems uncharacteristically provocative in style for a man who eschewed the sweary spin doctor stereotype, instead advising Cameron to “be Zen” while Tory civil war raged during the Brexit campaign.

It may be not only politicians who find the book a tough read. Oliver’s visceral account of his side’s defeat on 24 June includes a description of how he staggered in a daze down Whitehall until he retched “harder than I have done in my life. Nothing comes up. I retch again – so hard, it feels as if I’ll turn inside out.”

It’s easy to see why losing hit Oliver – who was knighted in Cameron’s resignation honours list – so hard. Arguably, this was the first time the 47-year-old father-of-three had ever failed at anything. The son of a former police chief constable, he grew up in Scotland, went to a state school and studied English at St Andrews University. He then became a broadcast journalist, holding senior posts at the BBC, ITV and Channel 4.

When the former News of the World editor Andy Coulson resigned as No 10’s communications director in January 2011 because of unceasing references in the press to his alleged involvement in the phone-hacking scandal, Oliver was not the obvious replacement. But he was seen as a scandal-free BBC pen-pusher who exuded calm authority, and that won him the job. The Cameron administration, tainted by its association with the Murdoch media empire, needed somebody uncontroversial who could blend into the background.

It wasn’t just Oliver’s relative blandness that recommended him. At the BBC, he had made his name revamping the corporation’s flagship News at Ten by identifying the news angles that would resonate with Middle England. The Conservatives then put this skill to very good use during their 2015 election campaign. His broadcast expertise also qualified him to sharpen up the then prime minister’s image.

Oliver’s own sense of style, however, was widely ridiculed when he showed up for his first week at Downing Street looking every inch the metropolitan media male with a trendy man bag and expensive Beats by Dre headphones, iPad in hand.

His apparent lack of political affiliation caused a stir at Westminster. Political hacks were perplexed by his anti-spin attitude. His style was the antithesis of the attack-dog mode popularised by Alastair Campbell and Damian McBride in the New Labour years. As Robert Peston told the Daily Mail: “Despite working closely with Oliver for three years, I had no clue about his politics or that he was interested in politics.” Five years on, critics still cast aspersions and question his commitment to the Conservative cause.

Oliver survived despite early wobbles. The most sinister of these was the allegation that in 2012 he tried to prevent the Daily Telegraph publishing a story about expenses claimed by the then culture secretary, Maria Miller, using her links to the Leveson inquiry as leverage – an accusation that Downing Street denied. Nevertheless, he became indispensable to Cameron, one of a handful of trusted advisers always at the prime minister’s side.

Newspapers grumbled about Oliver’s preference for broadcast and social media over print. “He’s made it clear he [Oliver] doesn’t give a s*** about us, so I don’t really give a s*** about him,” a veteran correspondent from a national newspaper told Politico.

Yet that approach was why he was hired. There was the occasional gaffe, including the clumsy shot of a stern-looking Cameron, apparently on the phone to President Obama discussing Putin’s incursion into Ukraine, which was widely mocked on Twitter. But overall, reducing Downing Street’s dependence on print media worked: Scotland voted against independence in 2014 and the Tories won a majority in the 2015 general election.

Then came Brexit, a blow to the whole Cameroon inner circle. In his rush to set the record straight and defend Cameron’s legacy – as well as his own – Oliver has finally broken free of the toned-down, straight-guy persona he perfected in power. His memoir is spiteful and melodramatic, like something straight from the mouth of Malcolm Tucker in The Thick of It. Perhaps, with this vengeful encore to his mild political career, the unlikely spin doctor has finally fulfilled his potential. 

This article first appeared in the 29 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, May’s new Tories