In defence of Vince Cable

That was the week that was . . .

During the coalition talks and after the general election in May, Vince Cable addressed a meeting of Liberal Democrats and told them that "my heart beats on the left". What he meant, of course, was that he was closer to Labour than to the Conservatives, even to David Cameron's liberal Conservatives.

He was still then just about the nation's favourite Vince, a self-styled "free radical" and economics sage. All the same, he urged his fellow MPs to follow him into coalition with the Tories, because, as he told me when I interviewed him in September at a fringe event at the Liberal Democrats' conference in Liverpool, he was "an enthusiastic deficit hawk", and believed that the deficit had to be cut faster and harder than Labour proposed, with some "in-year cuts". He also spoke to me about the pressures of collective responsibility.

Now, all these months later, it's clear just how damaged the Lib Dems have been by their association with the Tories. They are as low as 8 per cent in some polls. Effigies of their leader, Nick Clegg, have been burned on the streets. Students are rioting because of "betrayals" and broken pledges on tuition fees. They are perceived as flip-floppers and liars.

As ever, the truth is more complicated. I had dinner recently with a senior Lib Dem minister who explained just how much his party was doing inside government to "rein in and moderate" the Tories.

Cable is a social democrat and a Keynesian economist by training. He once told me over lunch at the New Statesman that, though he left the Labour Party long ago, he believes "passionately in the redistribution of wealth".

This week, as we all know, "Saint Vince" was humiliated after he was secretly recorded by those two giggly female undercover reporters at his constituency office; he has since been stripped of key responsibilities as Business Secretary after his assault on his "enemy", Rupert Murdoch.

His disparagers, perhaps long jealous of his popularity, have delighted in his humiliation. They have lined up to insult and traduce him. Newspaper columnists, from all sides, have been leading the charge. He is finished, they say. He is arrogant and complacent.

When the revelations broke, Ed Miliband called on David Cameron to sack Cable. This was a mistake by the Labour leader, because one day soon he may well need Cable's support. Instead of calling for him to go, he should have concentrated on the substance of what he'd said. Miliband was in front of an open goal and missed the target. Only the next day did he firm up his attack on the coalition.

Yet Cable had confirmed what many of us suspected – that this coalition is no "love-in". The Tories are in charge and they are behaving recklessly. The Lib Dems are taking the heat and they are being burned. In their haste to overturn Labour's legacies and dismantle Gordon Brown's client state, the Tories are in too much of a hurry – the admirable Tim Montgomerie, of Conservative Home, has written in the New Statesman of the "breakneck coalition". Their reforms to the health service, the welfare system and education are zealous and dangerous. Indeed, as Cable said, "they have not been thought through", as Michael Gove demonstrated once again with his latest reversal, this time on the School Sport Partnership programme (cut one minute, restored the next!).

Vince Cable may be something of a lone wolf, but he remains hugely popular among activists, as I discovered at that fringe meeting in Liverpool. Later, at the same conference, on 22 September, he gave a good speech in which argued for a new approach to taxation, switching the burden from earned to unearned income, from taxing income, or jobs, to assets, principally property and land. He said:

It will be said that in a world of internationally mobile capital and people it is counterproductive to tax personal income and corporate profit to uncompetitive levels. That is right. But a progressive alternative is to shift the tax base to property, and land, which cannot run away, [and] represents in Britain an extreme concentration of wealth.

(I wrote about the need for land reform and a new social democratic model in the New Statesman cover story of 18 October.)

Cable's mistake was to trust those two crafty female reporters not wisely, but too well. We demand that our politicians tell the truth but then vilify them when they speak candidly to "constituents". He's guilty of nothing more than vanity. It is correct that he remains in the cabinet, even though he is for now diminished.

Footnote: By the way, Vince sure knows how to wear a hat. He's been a fan of the fedora for years, and was wearing a particularly rakish one in photos taken after his unfortunate gaffe. Unkind observers might say it made him look like a minor character in a 1950s spy thriller. But everyone else will just be glad it's not a William Hague-style baseball cap.

Incidentally, can you imagine Cameron or Osborne in a hat? Beanie – too student protest. Flat cap – too Labour. Bowlers, boaters or top hats – too Bullingdon Club. That just leaves a Stetson . . .

Jason Cowley is editor of the New Statesman. He has been the editor of Granta, a senior editor at the Observer and a staff writer at the Times.

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Just you wait – soon fake news will come to football

No point putting out a story saying that Chelsea got stuffed 19-1 by Spurs. Who would believe it, even if Donald Trump tweeted it?

So it is all settled: Cristiano Ronaldo will be arriving at Carlisle United at the end of the month, just before deadline day. It all makes sense. He has fallen in love with a Herdwick sheep, just as Beatrix Potter did, and like her, he is putting his money and energy into helping Cumbria, the land of the Herdwick.

He fell out with his lover in Morocco, despite having a private plane to take him straight from every Real Madrid game to their weekly assignation, the moment this particular Herdwick came into his life. His mother will be coming with him, as well as his son, Cristiano Ronaldo, Jr. They want to bring the boy
up communing with nature, able to roam free, walking among the lakes and fells.

Behind the scenes, his agent has bought up CUFC and half of Cumbria on his behalf, including Sellafield, so it is a wise investment. Clearly CUFC will be promoted this year – just look where they are in the table – then zoom-zoom, up they go, back in the top league, at which point his agent hopes they will be offered megabucks by some half-witted Chinese/Russian/Arab moneybags.

Do you believe all that? It is what we now call in the trade fake news, or post-truth – or, to keep it simple, a total lie, or, to be vulgar, complete bollocks. (I made it up, although a pundit on French TV hinted that he thought the bit about Ronaldo’s friend in Morocco might not be too far-fetched. The stuff about Beatrix Potter loving Herdwicks is kosher.)

Fake news is already the number-one topic in 2017. Just think about all those round robins you got with Christmas cards, filled with fake news, such as grandchildren doing brilliantly at school, Dad’s dahlias winning prizes, while we have just bought a gem in Broadstairs for peanuts.

Fake news is everywhere in the world of politics and economics, business and celebrity gossip, because all the people who really care about such topics are sitting all day on Facebook making it up. And if they can’t be arsed to make it up, they pass on rubbish they know is made up.

Fake news has long been with us. Instead of dropping stuff on the internet, they used to drop it from the skies. I have a copy of a leaflet that the German propaganda machine dropped over our brave lads on the front line during the war. It shows what was happening back in Blighty – handsome US soldiers in bed with the wives and girlfriends of our Tommies stuck at the front.

So does it happen in football? At this time of the year, the tabloids and Sky are obsessed by transfer rumours, or rumours of transfer rumours, working themselves into a frenzy of self-perpetuating excitement, until the final minute of deadline day, when the climax comes at last, uh hum – all over the studio, what a mess.

In Reality, which is where I live, just off the North Circular – no, down a bit, move left, got it – there is no such thing as fake news in football. We are immune from fantasy facts. OK, there is gossip about the main players – will they move or will they not, will they be sued/prosecuted/dropped?

Football is concerned with facts. You have to get more goals than the other team, then you win the game. Fact. Because all the Prem games are live on telly, we millions of supplicant fans can see with our eyes who won. No point putting out a story saying that Chelsea got stuffed 19-1 by Spurs. Who would believe it, even if Donald Trump tweeted it?

I suppose the Russkis could hack into the Sky transmissions, making the ball bounce back out of the goal again, or manipulating the replay so goals get scored from impossible angles, or fiddling the electronic scoreboards.

Hmm, now I think about it, all facts can be fiddled, in this electronic age. The Premier League table could be total fiction. Bring back pigeons. You could trust them for the latest news. Oh, one has just arrived. Ronaldo’s romance  with the Herdwick is off! And so am I. Off to Barbados and Bequia
for two weeks.

Hunter Davies’s latest book is “The Biscuit Girls” (Ebury Press, £6.99)

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 12 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's revenge