What do our leaders say about the economic "catastrophe"? Nothing

Britain's economic problems are getting worse. It's time the government took notice.

I have read my old friend Bill Keegan's column at the Observer for so many years. He started writing for them in 1977, first as economics editor and latterly as their senior economics commentator. He was previously at the FT and even had a short spell at the Bank of England, poor thing! Every Sunday, I turn to his column for his take on the current economics scene. This week was a real shocker. Bill, as he admitted this week, is not prone to hyperbole -- unlike some I could mention, perhaps including yours truly -- but, this week, he used the word "catastrophe" about the economy. He claimed he didn't relish using that warning but had to: "things are getting serious" because of the collective view of policymakers around the world that "simultaneous deflation is the answer to all problems". It's time to sit up and take notice when Bill starts to panic. I agree with him.

It seemed a good time to check out what our great leaders had to say about the coming "catastrophe" -- zippo, it turns out. First, on 14 September, there was Deputy Dawg Nick Clegg's fatuous speech on the economy at the LSE on the day that unemployment jumped by 80,000. Presumably, a number of LSE students, who, from my experience, are extremely astute, will not have failed to notice that of that increase 77,000 were of youngsters aged between 18 and 24.

Cleggy started off pretty well with this claim, which cheered me up, thinking that something of substance was coming:

The reality we face is stark; there is now little margin for error. But that does not mean we are helpless. It does not mean we intend to sit on our hands while the global economy falters. Our critics say that all this government is capable of is cuts. That, beyond lowering a few business taxes, reducing a bit of red tape, there is little else we are willing or able to do. That is absolutely wrong. We can do more, we are doing more, we will do more.

Great, at last some action.

Sadly, my hopes were quickly dashed, when shortly thereafter he claimed there will be "no deviation on deficit reduction". He made it clear that this government had every intention of sitting on its hands while the economy falters.

Then, on 16 September 2011, Slasher Osborne made a speech to the Daily Telegraph Festival of Business conference. He also showed that he had thrown in the towel, arguing that there was nothing he could do, as everyone else was to blame for Bill's catastrophe. There were a couple of choice quotes though:

Our plan was designed for both good times and tough times. Flexible enough to let the automatic stabilisers work. Strong enough to command the confidence of world markets. If we abandoned it now, there would be a collapse in that confidence and a surge in interest rates. Look at our neighbours. In Greece, market interest rates are almost 23 per cent. In Italy, 5 per cent. Our market interest rates this week were the lowest they have ever been in our history. Below 2 per cent.

The automatic stabilisers are simply increased spending that occurs in a downturn when unemployment rises. To argue that his policy was "flexible enough" to let them work is absurd. They kick in when economic policies fail. This week, the latest data release from the ONS on the labour market showed that the number of public-sector jobs fell 111,000 on the quarter, while private-sector jobs were up 41,000 on the quarter.

Let me repeat for the umpteenth time: Greece and Italy are stuck in monetary union and cannot depreciate their currency or do more quantitative easing. There has already been a collapse in confidence, from the moment this government took office, and bond yields are as low as they are because the markets believe the growth prospects of the UK economy have been so decimated by the wilfully inept austerity package that interest rates will have to remain at 1 per cent or lower for many years. Note also that when the US debt was downgraded by S&P, bond yields fell, and are much lower than in the UK. Osborne is for the birds.

The quote that made me LOL was this one: "Government helping business to help business. That is our agenda. It's an agenda for jobs. For business. For growth." The reality is, it's an agenda for no growth and no jobs.

David Blanchflower is economics editor of the New Statesman and professor of economics at Dartmouth College, New Hampshire

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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times