The key contradiction in the Tories’ deficit spin

Was there a Labour plan, or not?

Various half-truths, lies and myths about the deficit have been peddled by the Tories, the Liberal Democrats and their supporters in the press in recent months. Right-wing deficit hawks pretend that the deficit had already ballooned prior to the 2008 banking crash when, in fact, as Labour's new shadow chancellor, Alan Johnson, pointed out in the House of Commons yesterday, this country entered the financial crisis with the second-lowest Budget deficit in the G7.

They also claim that the Blair and Brown governments spent excessively and unwisely in the run-up to the crash, omitting to mention that Messrs Cameron and Osborne backed Labour's spending plans right up until November 2008. (See Jonathan Freedland's excellent column in yesterday's Guardian for further details and observations.)

But the biggest contradiction (lie?) at the heart of the Con-Dem spin strategy concerns their (mis)representation of the Labour Party position on deficit reduction.

In a round of interviews this morning, George Osborne claimed:

People keep saying, "Where's your plan B?" I've got a plan A – this country didn't have any plan at all a few months ago.

Yesterday, however, in his Spending Review in the Commons, he concluded:

I am pleased to tell the House it has been possible – and the average saving in departmental budgets will be lower than the previous government implied in its March Budget. Instead of cuts of 20 per cent there will be cuts of 19 per cent over four years.

So, let me get this straight. The Tories have been saying for months that Labour left the country in a mess, without a deficit reduction plan, that Labour frontbenchers are "deficit deniers", blah, blah, but then, yesterday, Osborne suddenly claims that Labour had planned for 20 per cuts in departmental spending and his 19 per cent cuts were therefore lower than those. But then, this morning, he reverts to form and starts droning on about the alleged absence of a deficit reduction plan until, God bless them, the Con-Dem coalition came to office in May.

This is as absurd as it is dishonest. They cannot claim, on the one hand, that they are making these draconian, swingeing and severe cuts because Labour didn't have the balls or the brains to do so, but then, on the other, claim that Labour's cuts would have been worse than theirs.


You can watch me debating the Spending Review with the Tory blogger Iain Dale and the Chatham House economist Vanessa Rossi on al-Jazeera's Inside Edition here.

Mehdi Hasan is a contributing writer for the New Statesman and the co-author of Ed: The Milibands and the Making of a Labour Leader. He was the New Statesman's senior editor (politics) from 2009-12.

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For the first time in my life I have a sworn enemy – and I don’t even know her name

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

Last month, I made an enemy. I do not say this lightly, and I certainly don’t say it with pride, as a more aggressive male might. Throughout my life I have avoided confrontation with a scrupulousness that an unkind observer would call out-and-out cowardice. A waiter could bring the wrong order, cold and crawling with maggots, and in response to “How is everything?” I’d still manage a grin and a “lovely, thanks”.

On the Underground, I’m so wary of being a bad citizen that I often give up my seat to people who aren’t pregnant, aren’t significantly older than me, and in some cases are far better equipped to stand than I am. If there’s one thing I am not, it’s any sort of provocateur. And yet now this: a feud.

And I don’t even know my enemy’s name.

She was on a bike when I accidentally entered her life. I was pushing a buggy and I wandered – rashly, in her view – into her path. There’s little doubt that I was to blame: walking on the road while in charge of a minor is not something encouraged by the Highway Code. In my defence, it was a quiet, suburban street; the cyclist was the only vehicle of any kind; and I was half a street’s length away from physically colliding with her. It was the misjudgment of a sleep-deprived parent rather than an act of malice.

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

I was stung by what someone on The Apprentice might refer to as her negative feedback, and walked on with a redoubled sense of the parental inadequacy that is my default state even at the best of times.

A sad little incident, but a one-off, you would think. Only a week later, though, I was walking in a different part of town, this time without the toddler and engrossed in my phone. Again, I accept my culpability in crossing the road without paying due attention; again, I have to point out that it was only a “close shave” in the sense that meteorites are sometimes reported to have “narrowly missed crashing into the Earth” by 50,000 miles. It might have merited, at worst, a reproving ting of the bell. Instead came a familiar voice. “IT’S YOU AGAIN!” she yelled, wrathfully.

This time the shock brought a retort out of me, probably the harshest thing I have ever shouted at a stranger: “WHY ARE YOU SO UNPLEASANT?”

None of this is X-rated stuff, but it adds up to what I can only call a vendetta – something I never expected to pick up on the way to Waitrose. So I am writing this, as much as anything, in the spirit of rapprochement. I really believe that our third meeting, whenever it comes, can be a much happier affair. People can change. Who knows: maybe I’ll even be walking on the pavement

Mark Watson is a stand-up comedian and novelist. His most recent book, Crap at the Environment, follows his own efforts to halve his carbon footprint over one year.

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood