The man’s not for turning

Osborne’s lack of a plan B could prove his undoing. But it is the British people who will pay the pr

George Osborne grandly set out his economic vision in his Mais Lecture to City luminaries earlier this year. A smaller state coupled with higher exports and increased investment were his stated objectives. As Chancellor, he is now pursing these goals and keeping his fingers crossed that after he has hacked off chunks of the public sector, the private sector will step in to fill the gap.

If the unprecedented boom in exports and business investment needed to realise Osborne's plan doesn't show up, his approach, to borrow a phrase from Lady Thatcher, can be described thus: "You turn if you want to; the man's not for turning." Urged on by Tory backbenchers, the Chancellor refuses to countenance a plan B, while his Liberal Democrat coalition partners wonder what brake, if any, the Chief Secretary to the Treasury, Danny Alexander, is applying to this ideological adventure.

Alistair Darling, Osborne's predecessor, set out a plan to halve the deficit in four years starting in March 2011. This was controversial with many within Labour: the balance of tax rises to spending cuts was questioned, as was the need for such rapid fiscal consolidation. Despite this, the judgement of the new Office for Budget Responsibility was clear: the deficit would have been reduced from over 10 per cent of GDP in 2010/11 to 3.9 per cent by 2014/15 under Labour's plans.

Crucially Darling had a plan B. If the economy got worse and the prospects of high unemployment or a double-dip recession increased, the tempo of deficit reduction could be changed accordingly – the pace of fiscal tightening would be set by the pace of economic recovery (Vince Cable, too, argued for this during the election campaign).

Conversely, Osborne has decided to go further and faster. He is planning on tightening by an additional £40bn over Darling's plans by 2014/15, as set out in his June Budget and this month's Spending Review. He has rhetorically lashed himself to the mast of eliminating the structural deficit in one parliament, allowing very little flexibility if the outlook changes. He is also relying more on spending cuts, and less on tax rises, putting him at odds not only with Labour, but also with Ken Clarke.

The Justice Secretary, while chancellor under John Major in the 1990s, achieved a similar rebalancing of the economy and relied much more on tax rises and less on spending cuts to repair the public finances, in the wake of the last recession, than Osborne proposes now. Then exports and business investment grew strongly, although not as strongly as Osborne needs them to at present. And conditions then were very different from those in 2010: exports were helped by a booming world economy and investment increased by the need for business to respond to the revolution in information technology and communications. Neither seems likely over the next few years.

We should also remember the 1930s and the 1980s. In both cases, state spending was cut back as Tory governments, clinging to approaches variously referred to as "the Treasury view", "sound money" and "monetarism", waited for a private-sector recovery to take hold. Yet, when the problem is too little demand, who seriously advocates cutting back demand further? This is economics driven by ideology and lacking in common sense.

Today the Chancellor's rhetoric has made dealing with the deficit the sole aim of macroeconomic policy but, as the axe falls and jobs are lost from the public sector, there is a great danger that the private sector is not strong enough to absorb the newly unemployed workers. If this proves to be the case, unemployment will rise and, with it, the welfare bill as tax income falls. The deficit will worsen, forcing Osborne, who has left himself with no option, to cut spending further. It is self-defeating austerity that could well create an economic death spiral.

Moreover, in the 1930s and the 1980s the recovery did eventually come, but years later than it had to, and with a high social cost in unemployment, poverty and crime. In both cases the lack of an active regional policy, as now, left pockets of higher deprivation blighted by structural joblessness. And in both cases there was an alternative that could have been taken if the government had not been so blinkered.

One hopes that the private sector will be strong enough to counteract the effects of Osborne's measures, and that Britain will enjoy an exporting and investment renaissance and workers move near-seamlessly from the public payroll to newly created jobs in industry. However, history suggests that the odds of this occurring, especially at a time of continued global economic turmoil, are not high.

Osborne's lack of a plan B could prove his undoing. Unfortunately it is the British people, and not the likes of Osborne, who ultimately will pay the price.

Chuka Umunna is the Labour MP for Streatham and a member of the House of Commons Treasury select committee. Duncan Weldon is an economist and former adviser to the opposition Treasury team.

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What it’s like to fall victim to the Mail Online’s aggregation machine

I recently travelled to Iraq at my own expense to write a piece about war graves. Within five hours of the story's publication by the Times, huge chunks of it appeared on Mail Online – under someone else's byline.

I recently returned from a trip to Iraq, and wrote an article for the Times on the desecration of Commonwealth war cemeteries in the southern cities of Amara and Basra. It appeared in Monday’s paper, and began:

“‘Their name liveth for evermore’, the engraving reads, but the words ring hollow. The stone on which they appear lies shattered in a foreign field that should forever be England, but patently is anything but.”

By 6am, less than five hours after the Times put it online, a remarkably similar story had appeared on Mail Online, the world’s biggest and most successful English-language website with 200 million unique visitors a month.

It began: “Despite being etched with the immortal line: ‘Their name liveth for evermore’, the truth could not be further from the sentiment for the memorials in the Commonwealth War Cemetery in Amara.”

The article ran under the byline of someone called Euan McLelland, who describes himself on his personal website as a “driven, proactive and reliable multi-media reporter”. Alas, he was not driven or proactive enough to visit Iraq himself. His story was lifted straight from mine – every fact, every quote, every observation, the only significant difference being the introduction of a few errors and some lyrical flights of fancy. McLelland’s journalistic research extended to discovering the name of a Victoria Cross winner buried in one of the cemeteries – then getting it wrong.

Within the trade, lifting quotes and other material without proper acknowledgement is called plagiarism. In the wider world it is called theft. As a freelance, I had financed my trip to Iraq (though I should eventually recoup my expenses of nearly £1,000). I had arranged a guide and transport. I had expended considerable time and energy on the travel and research, and had taken the risk of visiting a notoriously unstable country. Yet McLelland had seen fit not only to filch my work but put his name on it. In doing so, he also precluded the possibility of me selling the story to any other publication.

I’m being unfair, of course. McLelland is merely a lackey. His job is to repackage and regurgitate. He has no time to do what proper journalists do – investigate, find things out, speak to real people, check facts. As the astute media blog SubScribe pointed out, on the same day that he “exposed” the state of Iraq’s cemeteries McLelland also wrote stories about the junior doctors’ strike, British special forces fighting Isis in Iraq, a policeman’s killer enjoying supervised outings from prison, methods of teaching children to read, the development of odourless garlic, a book by Lee Rigby’s mother serialised in the rival Mirror, and Michael Gove’s warning of an immigration free-for-all if Britain brexits. That’s some workload.

Last year James King published a damning insider’s account of working at Mail Online for the website Gawker. “I saw basic journalism standards and ethics casually and routinely ignored. I saw other publications’ work lifted wholesale. I watched editors...publish information they knew to be inaccurate,” he wrote. “The Mail’s editorial model depends on little more than dishonesty, theft of copyrighted material, and sensationalism so absurd that it crosses into fabrication.”

Mail Online strenuously denied the charges, but there is plenty of evidence to support them. In 2014, for example, it was famously forced to apologise to George Clooney for publishing what the actor described as a bogus, baseless and “premeditated lie” about his future mother-in-law opposing his marriage to Amal Alamuddin.

That same year it had to pay a “sizeable amount” to a freelance journalist named Jonathan Krohn for stealing his exclusive account in the Sunday Telegraph of being besieged with the Yazidis on northern Iraq’s Mount Sinjar by Islamic State fighters. It had to compensate another freelance, Ali Kefford, for ripping off her exclusive interview for the Mirror with Sarah West, the first female commander of a Navy warship.

Incensed by the theft of my own story, I emailed Martin Clarke, publisher of Mail Online, attaching an invoice for several hundred pounds. I heard nothing, so emailed McLelland to ask if he intended to pay me for using my work. Again I heard nothing, so I posted both emails on Facebook and Twitter.

I was astonished by the support I received, especially from my fellow journalists, some of them household names, including several victims of Mail Online themselves. They clearly loathed the website and the way it tarnishes and debases their profession. “Keep pestering and shaming them till you get a response,” one urged me. Take legal action, others exhorted me. “Could a groundswell from working journalists develop into a concerted effort to stop the theft?” SubScribe asked hopefully.

Then, as pressure from social media grew, Mail Online capitulated. Scott Langham, its deputy managing editor, emailed to say it would pay my invoice – but “with no admission of liability”. He even asked if it could keep the offending article up online, only with my byline instead of McLelland’s. I declined that generous offer and demanded its removal.

When I announced my little victory on Facebook some journalistic colleagues expressed disappointment, not satisfaction. They had hoped this would be a test case, they said. They wanted Mail Online’s brand of “journalism” exposed for what it is. “I was spoiling for a long war of attrition,” one well-known television correspondent lamented. Instead, they complained, a website widely seen as the model for future online journalism had simply bought off yet another of its victims.