Credibility is Labour leader’s hygiene factor

New leader needs to convince people that the deficit was not mismanagement but a way of avoiding a d

Pat McFadden MP was absolutely right to argue today that if Labour only opposes cuts there is a "danger of being tuned out by the electorate". But in many ways, the electorate has tuned Labour out already and the challenge is to tune it back in.

Being credible on the deficit is now a hygiene factor for Labour's next leader. All the candidates, and Labour's frontbenchers, are leading opposition to the unfairness of the Budget and the cuts to come in October's Spending Review. This is politically necessary, but not politically sufficient. Labour will get elected again, not on the determination of its opposition, but on the credibility of its alternative.

The perceived wisdom of the 1992 shadow Budget is that setting out proposals in opposition for necessary tax rises -- or indeed, spending cuts -- is political suicide. But it was a significant move this week from Ed Balls that started this debate, after he told the BBC's Laura Kuenssberg that it was a "mistake" for Labour to promise to halve the deficit in four years.

It was a major scoop for her, but did he mean to go public with this view? He hasn't yet said what his alternative would be and so has left himself a credibility gap for the other candidates to probe at the next hustings, in London this Friday.

The dilemma remains: how does Labour prove credibility without being explicit about either alternative cuts or tax rises? It almost certainly can't be done.

At the end of last week, Ed Miliband said Labour shouldn't be locked into the 2:1 ratio for cuts and tax rises, as stated in Labour's manifesto. He said the new leader should outline cuts by the time of October's Spending Review and suggested that tax rises play a bigger role. Andy Burnham has since joined the call for more tax rises and has been bold and consistent in arguing that raising the NHS budget while cutting the social care budget is a mistake.

These are more forward-looking attempts at gaining distinction and they do help move Labour on from what felt, at the time, like a credible deficit reduction plan on page 6 of Labour's manifesto. Page 6 was the core script for all Labour spokespeople during the election, and in interview after interview, Ed Balls and others made it sound credible. Having lost an election so dominated by the Tory campaign against a National Insurance rise, Labour now needs a new deficit reduction plan that is not politically tarnished.

David Miliband has suggested doubling the banking levy and introducing a "mansion tax". Ed Balls would start the 50p income-tax rise at £100,000 and Ed Miliband would make it permanent. Yet all the candidates are struggling for credibility, because these tax rises don't add up to the spending cuts they are seeking to prevent and the VAT hike they voted against last night. Demos has costed an alternative, but it is not the only option.

McFadden is right that the Tories and Lib Dems want Labour to "retreat to its comfort zone" so that they can argue Labour is responsible for the deficit and that "they alone are capable of facing up to Britain's problems".

Labour's next leader needs to win two arguments at the same time. The first is that the deficit was not mismanagement, but a decision taken to prevent recession turning to depression. The second is that Labour's new leader can now be trusted to reduce it. The public will not accept one without the other.

Richard Darlington is head of the Open Left project at Demos.

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Richard Darlington is Head of News at IPPR. Follow him on Twitter @RDarlo.

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A swimming pool and a bleeding toe put my medical competency in doubt

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Sometimes the search engine wins. 

The brutal heatwave affecting southern Europe this summer has become known among locals as “Lucifer”. Having just returned from Italy, I fully understand the nickname. An early excursion caused the beginnings of sunstroke, so we abandoned plans to explore the cultural heritage of the Amalfi region and strayed no further than five metres from the hotel pool for the rest of the week.

The children were delighted, particularly my 12-year-old stepdaughter, Gracie, who proceeded to spend hours at a time playing in the water. Towelling herself after one long session, she noticed something odd.

“What’s happened there?” she asked, holding her foot aloft in front of my face.

I inspected the proffered appendage: on the underside of her big toe was an oblong area of glistening red flesh that looked like a chunk of raw steak.

“Did you injure it?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

I shrugged and said she must have grazed it. She wasn’t convinced, pointing out that she would remember if she had done that. She has great faith in plasters, though, and once it was dressed she forgot all about it. I dismissed it, too, assuming it was one of those things.

By the end of the next day, the pulp on the underside of all of her toes looked the same. As the doctor in the family, I felt under some pressure to come up with an explanation. I made up something about burns from the hot paving slabs around the pool. Gracie didn’t say as much, but her look suggested a dawning scepticism over my claims to hold a medical degree.

The next day, Gracie and her new-found holiday playmate, Eve, abruptly terminated a marathon piggy-in-the-middle session in the pool with Eve’s dad. “Our feet are bleeding,” they announced, somewhat incredulously. Sure enough, bright-red blood was flowing, apparently painlessly, from the bottoms of their big toes.

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Often, what patients discover on the internet causes them undue alarm, and our role is to provide context and reassurance. But not infrequently, people come across information that outstrips our knowledge. On my return from our room with fresh supplies of plasters, my wife looked up from her sun lounger with an air of quiet amusement.

“It’s called ‘pool toe’,” she said, handing me her iPhone. The page she had tracked down described the girls’ situation exactly: friction burns, most commonly seen in children, caused by repetitive hopping about on the abrasive floors of swimming pools. Doctors practising in hot countries must see it all the time. I doubt it presents often to British GPs.

I remained puzzled about the lack of pain. The injuries looked bad, but neither Gracie nor Eve was particularly bothered. Here the internet drew a blank, but I suspect it has to do with the “pruning” of our skin that we’re all familiar with after a soak in the bath. This only occurs over the pulps of our fingers and toes. It was once thought to be caused by water diffusing into skin cells, making them swell, but the truth is far more fascinating.

The wrinkling is an active process, triggered by immersion, in which the blood supply to the pulp regions is switched off, causing the skin there to shrink and pucker. This creates the biological equivalent of tyre treads on our fingers and toes and markedly improves our grip – of great evolutionary advantage when grasping slippery fish in a river, or if trying to maintain balance on slick wet rocks.

The flip side of this is much greater friction, leading to abrasion of the skin through repeated micro-trauma. And the lack of blood flow causes nerves to shut down, depriving us of the pain that would otherwise alert us to the ongoing tissue damage. An adaptation that helped our ancestors hunt in rivers proves considerably less use on a modern summer holiday.

I may not have seen much of the local heritage, but the trip to Italy taught me something new all the same. 

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear