I disagree with Nick

The Lib Dem leader has to come clean about his U-turn on spending cuts.

When did Nick Clegg change his mind on spending cuts? It's a simple question but after much flip-flopping we are none the wiser.

On last week's BBC documentary Five Days that Changed Britain, the Deputy Prime Minister told Nick Robinson that events "between March and the actual general election" triggered his Damascene conversion to Conservative economic thinking: he, too, thinks deep and immediate spending cuts are necessary.

So did he change his mind before or after telling the electorate in March that "merrily slashing now is an act of economic masochism" and that "of course" he would not compromise on this in any coalition negotiations?

Did he change his mind before or after telling Jeremy Paxman in April: "Do I think that these big, big cuts are merited or justified at a time when the economy is struggling to get to its feet? Clearly not."

Or did he change his mind less than a week before polling day when he said to Reuters on 1 May: "My eight-year-old ought to be able to work this out -- you shouldn't start slamming on the brakes when the economy is barely growing. If you do that you create more joblessness, you create heavier costs on the state, the deficit goes up even further and the pain with dealing with it is even greater. So it is completely irrational."

Since the election, the Deputy Prime Minster has been less than forthcoming about what he thought and when he thought it.

On 12 May he concluded the coalition agreement with the Tories -- his new partners in fiscal retrenchment -- and promised a "significantly accelerated" deficit reduction plan, referring to "immediate cuts". On 6 June, in an interview in the Observer, he acknowledged that his view had "shifted", citing as reasons the events in Greece and a conversation with the governor of the Bank of England around the time the full coalition agreement was being finalised.

So far as Clegg's Greek defence is concerned, the governor told the Treasury select committee in February that "I do not think you can compare the UK with Greece". In fact, Clegg himself had claimed in March that "the guaranteed way" of producing Greek-style unrest would be "macho", deep, immediate spending cuts.

As for their big conversation, Mervyn King told me last week at a hearing of the newly constituted Treasury select committee that he had given Clegg no new information on the debt situation during their chat. Indeed, the day after our hearing last week, it was revealed that Clegg had changed his mind before the election -- an election in which he sought votes on the basis set out in his manifesto:

If spending is cut too soon, it would undermine the much-needed recovery and cost jobs. Our working assumption is that the economy will be in a stable enough condition to bear cuts from the beginning of 2011-12.

So, having disposed of the reasons cited by the Deputy Prime Minister for his change of position, we are left with a far more serious question: why did Clegg not tell the electorate that he would follow Conservative economic policy before 6.8 million people cast their votes for him on 6 May?

Did Clegg not think the British people deserved to know what they would be voting for? According to last weekend's Sunday Times, Clegg had not even informed his Treasury team -- Vince Cable included -- of the line he would take once the polls shut. A full and frank explanation is needed, otherwise the electorate, never mind his MPs, will be entitled to ask: How can we trust anything you say?

Chuka Umunna is the Labour MP for Streatham and a member of the Commons Treasury select committee.

Chuka Umunna is Labour MP for Streatham.

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Why Russia holds the key to resolving the North Korea crisis

China is propping up North Korea’s economy, but it seems to get little influence in return.

For more than half a century, China has seen North Korea as a dangerous irritant as much as an asset. It might be useful for keeping the United States off guard, and regarded as an essential buffer by the military establishment, but China would happily ditch it if there were a better option.

The North Korean regime has tended to be characterised as uniquely irrational and unpredictable. From its perspective, however, its behaviour makes eminent sense: in fact, its argument for developing a nuclear capability closely echoes the rationale of the great powers. It has no declared intent to launch a first strike, but as long as others have nuclear weapons, North Korea reasons they serve a deterrent function. The regime also argues, as others have, that there are associated benefits with civil nuclear power.  

The long history of North Korea’s nuclear programme follows a recognisable path, previously trodden by Israel, India and Pakistan. It goes from the ambition, formed in the mind of North Korea’s founding dictator, Kim Il-sung, through the long years of a clandestine programme, to the gradual revelation of a reasonably mature, if relatively small, nuclear capability. Signalling is also an element in deterrence. The regime is certainly unpleasant and destabilising, but it is a mistake to imagine that there is no clear purpose and no plan.

The dynasty began life as a Soviet puppet, sandwiched between a powerful USSR and a weak China. But from the start, Kim Il-sung’s muscular nationalism and concern for regime survival suggested that he was unlikely to be a docile dependent of either. His attempt to unify the peninsula by force in 1950 led to a bloody war in which Mao Zedong was obliged to come to his rescue. In the course of that war, “fire and fury” did indeed rain down on North Korea: the US dropped as much ordnance on North Korea as it had during the whole of the Second World War Pacific theatre, including the carpet bombing of Japan. To this day, any building site in Pyongyang is likely to turn up some unexploded ordnance. North Korea was born in a rain of fire, which it has incorporated into its national story.

The regime succeeded in maintaining relations with both its patrons through the dramas and tensions of the Sino-Soviet split to the end of the Cold War. But as Kim Il-sung contemplated the future survival of his regime, he concluded that a nuclear programme was essential insurance, both against his major enemies (the US and South Korea) and any territorial ambitions or excessive demands from China or Russia.

China was and remains North Korea’s major ally, but that does not make North Korea obedient. Their bilateral history is a story of growing defiance and increasing alienation: Kim Il-sung ignored Mao Zedong’s attempt to dissuade him from naming his eldest son, Kim Jong-il, as his successor. He had visited Beijing once a year and had promised that his son would follow suit, but Kim Jong-il only visited Deng Xiaoping’s China once, in 1983. His next visit came three years after Deng’s death, a death for which Kim had offered no formal condolences, as even the most minimal protocol required. 

On that visit, Kim heard the unwelcome news that China, already closer to the United States than he would have wished, was to open relations with his bitter rival, South Korea. When the third dynastic leader, the young Kim Jong-un, took power in 2011, relations with China slid further. Tellingly, Kim Jong-un has not visited Beijing at all, nor has China’s leader, President Xi Jinping, visited Pyongyang, although he has held four summit meetings with South Korea.

Kim Jong-un has made his defiance publicly evident. Not only has he chosen to test his missiles and weapons, but he has selected such highly sensitive moments as last year’s G20 summit in Hangzhou to do so.

China is propping up North Korea’s economy, but it seems to get little influence in return, and the value of the relationship has long been openly questioned by China’s foreign policy analysts. China has had little success in encouraging the regime to loosen controls on the economy and make limited market reforms.

 In the current crisis, China has consistently urged restraint, while co-operating with the tightening of UN sanctions. Beijing’s attitude, however, remains ambivalent: it doubts that sanctions will be effective, and is highly sensitive to US suggestions that Chinese companies that breach sanctions would be subject to punitive measures.  For China, the dangers of bringing North Korea to the edge of collapse are greater than the difficulties of seeking another solution.

Today, North Korea’s relations with Russia are warmer than those with Beijing and if President Trump is serious in his search for someone to solve his North Korea problem for him, he could do worse than to call his friend Mr Putin. No doubt there would be a price, but perhaps Trump would have less difficulty in appeasing Russia than in making concessions to Kim Jong-un. 

In July this year, China and Russia put forward a proposal that both sides should make concessions. North Korea would suspend its nuclear and its missile testing in return for a suspension of South Korea’s annual military exercises with the United States. Buried in the joint statement was the assertion that third parties should not negatively affect the interests of other countries.

Both China and Russia aim to reduce US influence in Asia, an ambition greatly aided to date by Trump’s withdrawal from the Trans-Pacific Partnership trade agreement, conceived as a vehicle of US influence; his treatment of long-standing US allies; and his decision to withdraw the US from the Paris agreement on climate change.

Today the US seems poised between demanding that China solve the North Korea problem and beginning a trade war with Beijing. China’s challenge on the Korean peninsula, always difficult, has grown even greater.

Isabel Hilton is the CEO of the China Dialogue Trust

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