Paul Ryan is the Republicans' "ideas man". Shame his ideas are nonsense

To achieve his plan, Ryan would have to enact spending cuts which are "beyond draconian".

Paul Ryan, Mitt Romney's chosen Vice-Presidential candidate, has a reputation for being the brains of the Congressional Republican Party. But while he talks the talk, his brains are seemingly used more for misleading the public than coming up with credible fiscal policy.

This reputation stems largely from his role at the head of the House of Representatives' budget committee, where Ryan has spent the last 18 months rejecting the Democratic budget, while presenting his own vision of how the Government should be funded, through the "Ryan Plan".

Ryan's alternative budgets were presented annually from 2008, when the Democrats took control of both houses and the Presidency, but the first one to be passed by the House was his 2011 plan, which made it to the Senate before being shot down 57-40. The plan was updated and reintroduced earlier this year, but again fell in the face of Democratic opposition once it made it through the House of Representatives.

The ideological heart of the Ryan Plan can be found in its fourteenth slide:

There's a lot wrong with this graph: it assumes that the American healthcare paradigm, a system which all parties recognise as broken, will continue unless Ryan steps in and changes the country to the "path to prosperity"; it attempts to predict the Federal fiscal situation in 2080 when we can't even reliably predict what it will be like in 2018; and it took a lot of cajoling to get the CBO (an independent financial analysis organisation, and the model for our own OBR) to actually accept that Ryan's plan would result in anything like the debt dynamics he suggests. But it serves one purpose admirably, which is to convince the American public that Paul Ryan is a man who is Serious About Debt.

Unfortunately, that's just not particularly true. As Wonkblog reminds us, looking through his voting history reveals a typical Republican pattern: concerned about high taxes and "handouts", but little fear of the deficit per se. Ezra Klein writes:

He voted for the George W. Bush tax cuts, as well as the war in Iraq and the unfunded Medicare Prescription Drug Benefit. Perhaps his most ambitious policy proposal prior to his celebrated budgets was the Social Security Personal Savings Guarantee and Prosperity Act of 2005, a plan to privatize Social Security. The program’s actuaries found that Ryan’s plan would require $2.4 trillion in additional costs over the first 10 years, and the Bush administration ultimately dismissed it as “irresponsible.”

And one doesn't really need to look into the distant past to learn that the deficit itself ranks rather low on Ryan's list of priorities. His budget plans, like most, are easily split into two sections: changes to taxation, and changes to spending.

The tax changes are relatively simple, clearly specified, and hugely regressive. Ryan has proposed cutting federal income tax rates down to a baseline of 10 per cent and a 25 per cent marginal rate for higher earners, down from the current maximum of 35 per cent, and offset those cuts by removing most tax credits used by the poorest. The end result is a massive transfer of the burden of taxation from the wealthiest to the worst off in society, noteably leaving Romney himself paying just 0.82 per cent of his income in tax:

But while Ryan's tax plan is specified rather precisely, his spending plan isn't. It is famous for the slash-and-burn approach it takes to Medicare (health insurance for the elderly), Medicaid (health insurance for the poor) and Social Security (pensions): Ryan proposes cutting the budget for the first by around a quarter, for the second by around three-quarters, and capping the cost of the second in the face of a rapidly ageing population.

These policies would greatly increase human suffering across America, and have been blasted as "simultaneously ridiculous and heartless" by the likes of Paul Krugman. But they fit the idea of a hardcore deficit hawk. What doesn't is Ryan's policies on everything else – literally. The plan lumps "everything else" (that's defence, infrastructure, education, the environment, the civil service, the FBI. . .) together into a category on which Ryan claims spending will be cut to just 3.75 per cent of GDP.

That's a stupidly low number. It's even lower in the context of Romney's promise to spend 4 per cent of GDP on defence alone; that defence has never cost less than 3 per cent; and that even Ryan calls for a short term increase in defence spending.

Simply put, there is no way that a Romney/Ryan government would ever be able to achieve its spending ambitions. It would try, and hurt millions of people in the process, but even while cuts which are "beyond draconian" are being put in place, it would fail.

So Ryan has a clear, politically easy and well specified plan to cut revenue, and a vague, politically impossible plan to cut spending. It doesn't take a prophet to see that the former would be achieved in six months, while the latter would likely never come close to fruition. The hole in the budget would easily exceed the worst excesses of the Bush years (and that's assuming the Romney/Ryan administration doesn't launch a war with Iran).

So Ryan can credibly claim to be the candidate of lower taxes (for the rich) and can probably claim to be the candidate of smaller government (just not as small as he promises). But the candidate of a lower deficit, the candidate who can fulfil the promise made in the chart at the top of this post, is not him.

Paul Ryan and Mittens Romney. 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.

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Jeremy Corbyn's fans must learn the art of compromise

On both sides of the Atlantic, democracy is threatened by a post-truth world. 

Twenty years ago, as a new and enthusiastic Labour MP, I wrote an article for The Observer in praise of spin. I argued that if citizens are to be properly informed and engaged in their democracy, politicians - and in particular governments - have a duty to craft their messages carefully and communicate them cogently. It was a controversial notion then but less so now that we have entered the era of post-truth politics. In the old days, we used to "manage" the truth. Now we have abandoned it. 

We’ve probably come further than we think, for when truth is discarded, reason generally follows. Without a general acceptance of the broad "facts" of any matter, there can be little basis for rational debate nor, therefore, for either the consensus or the respectful disagreement which should emerge from it. Without a commitment to truth, we are free to choose and believe in our own facts and to despise the facts of others. We are free too to place our faith in leaders who make the impossible seem possible. 

We condemn the dictatorships which deny their citizens the right to informed and open debate. But in our own societies, unreasoned and often irrational politics are entering the mainstream. 

The politics of unreason

In the UK, the Leave campaign blithely wedded brazen falsehood to the fantasy that Brexit would cure all ills – and millions of voters enthusiastically suspended their disbelief.  “We want our country back” was a potent slogan - but no less vacuous than the pledge to “make America great again” on which Donald Trump has founded his election campaign. On both sides of the Atlantic, people want to take back control they know they never had nor ever will.

Both campaigns have deliberately bypassed rational argument. They play instead to the emotional response of angry people for whom reason no longer makes sense. Since the time of Plato and Aristotle, democracy’s critics have warned of the ease with which reason can be subverted and citizens seduced by the false oratory of charismatic leaders. Trump is just the latest in a long line of the demagogues they feared. He may not make it to the White House, but he has come a long way on unreasoning rhetoric - and where he leads, millions faithfully follow. He has boasted that he could commit murder on Fifth Avenue without losing votes and he may well be right.

But if Trump is extreme, he is not exceptional. He is a phenomenon of a populism of both right and left which has once more begun to challenge the principles of parliamentary democracy.

Democracy in decline

All over Europe and the United States, consumer-citizens are exasperated by democracy’s failure to meet their demands as fully and as fast as they expect. If the market can guarantee next day delivery, why can’t government? The low esteem in which elected politicians are held is only partly the consequence of their failings and failures. It is also evidence of a growing disenchantment with representative democracy itself. We do not trust our politicians to reflect our priorities. Perhaps we never did. But now we’re no longer prepared to acknowledge their unenviable duty to arbitrate between competing political, social and economic imperatives, nor ours to accept the compromises they reach - at least until the next election.

We have become protesters against rather than participants in our politics and, emboldened by hearing our chosen facts and beliefs reverberating around cyber space, have become increasingly polarised and uncompromising in our protest. 

The Trumpy Corbynites

Which brings us to Labour. Despite the obvious political differences between Jeremy Corbyn and Donald Trump, there are striking similarities in the movements which have coalesced around them. For many of their supporters, they can simply do no wrong; each criticism provides further evidence of a corrupt establishment’s conspiracy against them; rivals, including those who share many of their beliefs, are anathematised; unbelievers are pursued across the internet; inconvenient facts are reinterpreted or ignored; rational, civil debate is shut down or drowned out. 

There are other similarities in these insurgencies: both mistake slogans for policies and mass rallies for popular support; both are overwhelming and quite possibly destroying their own parties – and both, ultimately, are movements without practical purpose.

Trump may give vivid expression to his followers’ grievances but, other than building a wall along the Mexican border, his plans for government are obscure. Similarly, while Corbyn and his supporters know what they’re against, they have not yet articulated a clear vision of what they’re for, much less how it can be achieved. For many of them, it is enough to be "anti-Blairite". 

But in disassociating themselves from a Labour prime minister’s mistakes, they are also dismissing their party’s achievements under his leadership. Their refusal to acknowledge the need for compromise may well enable them to avoid the pitfalls of government. But government’s potential to bring about at least some of the change they want does not come without pitfalls. In wanting it all, they are likely to end up with nothing.

The art of compromise

Democracy cannot be sustained simply by what passionate people oppose. And though movements such as Momentum have important roles to play in influencing political parties, they cannot replace them. Their supporters want to be right - and they often are. But they are rarely prepared to test their principles against the practical business of government. The members of political parties want, or should want, to govern and are prepared, albeit reluctantly, to compromise – with each other, with those they seek to represent, with events -  in order to do so. Parties should listen to movements. But movements, if they are to have any practical purpose, must acknowledge that, for all its limitations, the point of politics is power.

We have to trust that the majority of American voters will reject Donald Trump. But closer to home, if Labour is to have a future as a political force, Corbyn’s supporters must learn to respect the historic purpose of the Labour party at least as much as they admire the high  principles of its current leader. There isn’t long for that realisation to take hold.

In the UK as in the US and elsewhere, we need to rediscover the importance of common cause and the art of compromise in forging it. The alternative is a form of politics which is not only post-truth, post-reason and post-purpose, but also post-democratic. 

Peter Bradley is a former MP and director of Speakers' Corner Trust, a UK charity which promotes free speech, public debate and active citizenship.