Meet the new PFI, same as the old PFI

Minor changes abound.

Despite George Osborne claiming in 2011 that the private finance initiative (PFI), Labour's model of funding infrastructure investments with private capital, was "discredited", the Financial Times is reporting that his attempt to find a "new delivery model" to replace the scheme has resulted in a "remodelled version" with "only minor changes" which include "stripping out services such as cleaning, catering and security from the 25 to 30-year contracts in a bid to keep a tighter control on costs."

Gill Plimmer, Jim Pickard and George Parker write that (£):

In a plan still being discussed with industry, the government is also considering investing a small amount of public capital into PFI projects. Although the amounts involved would be small, this would ensure the government a seat on the board of any project, raising corporate governance standards and easing fears that the schemes are in the hands of private financiers.

The main elements of the new PFI projects look set to remain the same. The private sector will still enter into long-term deals to design and build roads, hospitals and schools, with essential maintenance such as roofing included in the contracts. They will continue to be financed by private debt and equity paid for by a revenue stream from government rather than users. Schemes will in many cases continue to be off the public sector’s balance sheet.

The real question the government still hasn't answered is why a PFI replacement remains necessary at all. The scheme was, to all intents and purposes, an effort to keep borrowing off the books of the state. Rather than borrow the initial outlay and pay interest on it, the state would "rent" what was built with someone else's capital (often, of course, paying far more in the process).

These days there is little point in borrowing off the books. This year saw the lowest cost of borrowing for three centuries, and there is no way a private company can access capital for anywhere near that cost.

The political calculus is quite different, though. PFI allows the government to spend, without saying it's switched to plan B. And to Osborne, that's priceless.

Barts Hospital, one of the beneficiaries of PFI contracts, in 1752. Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

Getty Images.
Show Hide image

Why it's far too early to declare Ukip dead

The party could yet thrive if Brexit disappoints those who voted Leave.

"Nothing except a battle lost can be half as melancholy as a battle won," wrote the Duke of Wellington after Waterloo. Ukip can testify to this. Since achieving its founding aim - a British vote to leave the EU - the party has descended into a rolling crisis.

Theresa May's vow to pursue Brexit, and to achieve control of immigration, robbed Ukip of its political distinctiveness. But the party's greatest enemy has been itself. Its leader Paul Nuttall did not merely lose the Stoke by-election (despite the city recording the highest Leave vote), he self-destructed in the process. Contrary to his assertions, Nuttall did not achieve a PhD, was never a professional footballer and did not lose "close personal friends" at Hillsborough. Ukip's deputy Peter Whittle pleaded last weekend that voters needed more time to get to know Nuttall. No, the problem was that they got to know him all too well. A mere three months after becoming leader, Nuttall has endured a level of mockery from which far stronger men would struggle to recover (and he may soon be relieved of the task).

Since then, Ukip's millionaire sugar daddy Arron Banks has threatened to leave the party unless he is made chairman and Nigel Farage is awarded a new role (seemingly that of de facto leader). For good measure, Farage (a man who has failed seven times to enter parliament) has demanded that Ukip's only MP Douglas Carswell is expelled for the crime of failing to aid his knighthood bid. Not wanting to be outdone, Banks has vowed to stand against Carswell at the next election if the dissenter is not purged. Any suggestion that the party's bloodlust was sated by the flooring of Steve Woolfe and Diane James's 18-day leadership has been entirely dispelled.

For all this, it is too early to pronounce Ukip's death (as many have). Despite May's ascension and its myriad woes, it has maintained an average poll rating of 12 per cent this year. This is far from its 2014 zenith, when it polled as high as 25 per cent, but also far from irrelevancy. Incapable of winning Labour seats itself, Ukip could yet gift them to the Conservatives by attracting anti-Tory, anti-Corbyn voters (in marginals, the margins matter).

Though Theresa May appears invulnerable, Brexit could provide fertile political territory for Ukip. Those who voted Leave in the hope of a radical reduction in immigration will likely be dismayed if only a moderate fall results. Cabinet ministers who boasted during the referendum of their desire to reduce immigration have already been forced to concede that newcomers will be required to fill vacancies for years to come. Ukip will be the natural vehicle for those aggrieved by Brexit "betrayal". Some Leave voters are already dismayed by the slowness of the process (questioning why withdrawal wasn't triggered immediately) and will revolt at the "transitional period" and budget contributions now regarded as inevitable.

The declarations of Ukip's death by both conservatives and liberals have all the hallmarks of wishful thinking. Even if the party collapses in its present form, something comparable to it would emerge. Indeed, the complacency of its opponents could provide the very conditions it needs to thrive.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.