After Gordon

There are even those who relish the idea of leaving Cameron in charge of the worsening economic situ

The post-Gordon era is upon us. Some within the Labour Party talk about the Prime Minister as if he were gone already. Ministers avoid the subject where they can, and his old enemies are openly hostile. Tortured discussions among backbenchers twist around turning points and tipping points. Was it George Osborne's inheritance tax speech, the election that never was, or the 10p tax rate that really did for him? Will it be the Glasgow East by-election, Labour's policy forum later this month, or the autumn party conference season that will definitively mark the end of the Brown era?

The talk in Westminster is no longer about whether a period in opposition would be useful, but whether enough genuine talent would survive a landslide Tory victory to form a shadow cabinet. The question is not whether the Labour Party can renew itself in power, but whether it will survive the humiliation of defeat. There is the whiff of revolutionary defeatism in the air, and the distinct belief in some quarters that the party's interests would be best served by losing power. There are even those who somewhat relish the idea of leaving David Cameron in charge of the worsening economic situation.

Act of war

In this atmosphere, almost anything Charles Clarke does is liable to be interpreted as a bid for the leadership, or a move to undermine Gordon Brown. The former home secretary is viewed in Brownite circles as something not far short of Satan (otherwise known as Alan Milburn). So his new paper on the future of public services, published as the New Statesman goes to press by the accounting firm KPMG, will undoubtedly be seen as an act of war.

In reality, Achieving the Potential is a rather modest document, which discusses whether there is an argument for an extension in "user charging" to top up tax revenues for transport, housing, education and health and social care. Although to some ears this may sound suspiciously like another argument for further privatisation, such public sector charging for services already exists: for driving in to central London, prescriptions and school meals, for example.

Clarke suggests that an extension of charging might provide a pragmatic solution to a fundamental conundrum: in an age when expectations of public services are rising, but people are not prepared to pay more taxes, how will the government fund the improvements? He argues for an increase in road charging, coupled with a "hypothecation" of the revenue into environmental improvements. He also believes the building of new infrastructure projects, such as bridges and tunnels, would be accelerated by the systematic ability to charge tolls, on the model of the M6 bypass or the Dartford River Crossing. In social housing, tenants could be given a "menu" of choices, such as the option of a concierge in a block of flats or environmental improvements, which they would pay for on top of their rent.

In more controversial areas, such as education and health, Clarke is more cautious. He does not advocate, for instance, charging for GPs, as happens in some countries, or the introduction of fees in education beyond payments for extended services, such as after-school clubs.

At the same time, he recognises potential issues of equity that inevitably arise when some people are better able to pay the charges than others. To address this, he suggests a range of solutions - including means-testing, graduated charges and repayment - such as already exist for student loans.

Avoiding controversy

Clarke is at pains to emphasise that his work on user charging was not intended as an ideological statement or a political intervention. In some circles, however, it will inevitably be seen as entirely consistent with the Blairite love-in with business, given that some of the services would almost certainly be provided by the private sector. But I believe Clarke when he says this is a genuine attempt to address a potential funding gap between consumer demand and willingness to pay taxes.

Nonetheless, this is undoubtedly a "beyond Gordon" document. At a breakfast to launch it, the Prime Minister's name was not mentioned once. It is telling that such proposals for public sector reform are not being discussed around the cabinet table.

There are good reasons for this. Clarke writes in his introduction: "Any attempt to change the existing system has the potential to be extremely controversial. There may well be substantial numbers of losers, as well as winners, and the reform is likely to raise sharp ideological and political questions." As the education secretary who pushed through the 2003 legislation to set up a system of variable tuition fees for universities, Clarke knows just how controversial "user charging" can be.

Perhaps that is the point. It may not be possible for Labour politicians to think adventurous thoughts from within government because the political stakes are now too high. Personally, I have grave doubts about some of Charles Clarke's proposals, largely because I believe charges act as a disincentive to the poorest in society. But the "sharp ideological and political questions" he talks about are precisely those that need to be addressed if the post-Gordon era is not to become the post-Labour era.

This article first appeared in the 21 July 2008 issue of the New Statesman, Tyranny and tourism

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Is there such a thing as responsible betting?

Punters are encouraged to bet responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly.

I try not to watch the commercials between matches, or the studio discussions, or anything really, before or after, except for the match itself. And yet there is one person I never manage to escape properly – Ray Winstone. His cracked face, his mesmerising voice, his endlessly repeated spiel follow me across the room as I escape for the lav, the kitchen, the drinks cupboard.

I’m not sure which betting company he is shouting about, there are just so many of them, offering incredible odds and supposedly free bets. In the past six years, since the laws changed, TV betting adverts have increased by 600 per cent, all offering amazingly simple ways to lose money with just one tap on a smartphone.

The one I hate is the ad for BetVictor. The man who has been fronting it, appearing at windows or on roofs, who I assume is Victor, is just so slimy and horrible.

Betting firms are the ultimate football parasites, second in wealth only to kit manufacturers. They have perfected the capitalist’s art of using OPM (Other People’s Money). They’re not directly involved in football – say, in training or managing – yet they make millions off the back of its popularity. Many of the firms are based offshore in Gibraltar.

Football betting is not new. In the Fifties, my job every week at five o’clock was to sit beside my father’s bed, where he lay paralysed with MS, and write down the football results as they were read out on Sports Report. I had not to breathe, make silly remarks or guess the score. By the inflection in the announcer’s voice you could tell if it was an away win.

Earlier in the week I had filled in his Treble Chance on the Littlewoods pools. The “treble” part was because you had three chances: three points if the game you picked was a score draw, two for a goalless draw and one point for a home or away win. You chose eight games and had to reach 24 points, or as near as possible, then you were in the money.

“Not a damn sausage,” my father would say every week, once I’d marked and handed him back his predictions. He never did win a sausage.

Football pools began in the 1920s, the main ones being Littlewoods and Vernons, both based in Liverpool. They gave employment to thousands of bright young women who checked the results and sang in company choirs in their spare time. Each firm spent millions on advertising. In 1935, Littlewoods flew an aeroplane over London with a banner saying: Littlewoods Above All!

Postwar, they blossomed again, taking in £50m a year. The nation stopped at five on a Saturday to hear the scores, whether they were interested in football or not, hoping to get rich. BBC Sports Report began in 1948 with John Webster reading the results. James Alexander Gordon took over in 1974 – a voice soon familiar throughout the land.

These past few decades, football pools have been left behind, old-fashioned, low-tech, replaced by online betting using smartphones. The betting industry has totally rebooted itself. You can bet while the match is still on, trying to predict who will get the next goal, the next corner, the next throw-in. I made the last one up, but in theory you can bet instantly, on anything, at any time.

The soft sell is interesting. With the old football pools, we knew it was a remote flutter, hoping to make some money. Today the ads imply that betting on football somehow enhances the experience, adds to the enjoyment, involves you in the game itself, hence they show lads all together, drinking and laughing and putting on bets.

At the same time, punters are encouraged to do it responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly. Responsibly and respect are now two of the most meaningless words in the football language. People have been gambling, in some form, since the beginning, watching two raindrops drip down inside the cave, lying around in Roman bathhouses playing games. All they’ve done is to change the technology. You have to respect that.

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 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war