Why Osborne's cuts aren't "soft"

The misleading claim that Osborne is only cutting spending by one per cent a year.

Supporters of George Osborne's economic strategy have made it their mission to convince the world that his cuts are not harsh, savage or draconian but are in fact "soft", "mild" and "insignificant". It's a smart tactic designed to make Labour's opposition to the cuts look hysterical and economically deluded.

The most prominent and articulate exponent of this view is Spectator editor Fraser Nelson. In a blog published yesterday, he wrote: "Osborne's cuts aren't harsh or drastic: they're mild and probably insufficient. There's almost no organisation on the planet that agrees with Balls that cuts of less than 1 per cent a year are too harsh and too fast -- he ends up looking like a loser."

Nelson's figures aren't wrong - Osborne really is cutting spending by just 0.6 per cent this year and by just 3.7 per cent across this Parliament. But they are deeply misleading. The figure for total cuts includes non-discretionary spending such as welfare benefits (the "automatic stabilisers" Osborne recently referred to) and debt interest, masking the true extent of the coaliton's squeeze on public services.

The Treasury table below, which looks at departmental spending in isolation, shows what all the fuss is about. The Home Office is being cut by 25 per cent (see the final column). Education is being cut by 11 per cent. Transport is being cut by 15 per cent. The Foreign Office is being cut by 28 per cent.

The total cut to departmental spending is 11 per cent, the largest, as the IFS has noted, since 1945. If we strip out the NHS and International Development - the ring-fenced departments - the total cut is 19 per cent.

I should add that higher inflation means that the cuts will be even worse. The NHS, for instance, which was due to receive a small real-terms increase, will now suffer a small real-terms cut (the reason why it was so foolish for Cameron to "guarantee" last week that spending would rise).

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Another tactic beloved of the right (most notably John Redwood) is to point out that spending, in defiance of Osborne's cuts, continues to rise. Gordon Brown's government spent £50.6bn in May 2010 but Cameron's splashed £54.1bn last month. What's more, the latest Treasury figures show that total state expenditure, which stood at £669.7bn in 2009-10, will be £743.6bn by 2014-15. The cuts are all in the left's head.

But the claim that the cuts are mythical is only achieved by the old trick of measuring public spending in cash terms, rather than as a percentage of GDP. The latter is by far the more sensible measure. At times of economic expansion, it is only reasonable to assume that some of the proceeds of growth will go towards improving public services, and public-sector inflation is typically higher than the average growth in prices.

If we look at public spending as a proportion of GDP, the true picture emerges. The cuts will reduce public spending from 47.6 per cent of GDP in 2010/11 to 41.0 per cent in 2014/15. For many on the right, this is still an unacceptably high level of expenditure. But one can hardly deny that it represents a substantial reduction in the scope and size of the state's activities.

Rather than hiding behind misleading figures, it would be more intellectually honest of the right to make the case for Osborne's cuts, red in tooth and claw. Once the coalition's squeeze is complete, their statistical conjury won't fool anyone.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

A woman in an Indian surrogacy hostel. Photo: Getty
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The Handmaid's Tale has already come true - just not for white western women

Why, if the fate of the fictional Offred is so horrifying, is the fate of real-life women in surrogacy hostels causing so little outrage?

When anti-choice Republican Justin Humphrey referred to pregnant women as “hosts”, I found myself wondering, not for the first time, whether everything had got “a bit Handmaid’s Tale.”

I’m not alone in having had this thought. Since Donald Trump won the US election, sales of Margaret Atwood’s dystopian novel have spiked and we’ve seen a plethora of articles telling us how “eerily relevant [it] is to our current political landscape.” In an interview during Cuba’s international book fair, Atwood herself said she believes the recent “bubbling up” of regressive attitudes towards women is linked to The Handmaid’s Tale’s current success: “It’s back to 17th-century puritan values of New England at that time in which women were pretty low on the hierarchy … you can think you are being a liberal democracy but then — bang — you’re Hitler’s Germany.”

Scary stuff. Still, at least most present-day readers can reassure themselves that they’ve not arrived in the Republic of Gilead just yet.

For those who have not yet read it, The Handmaid’s Tale tells the story of Offred, who lives under a theocratic dictatorship in what used to be the United States of America. White, middle-class and college-educated, Offred once enjoyed a significant degree of privilege, but now belongs to a class of women whose sole purpose is to gestate offspring for high-status couples. Much of the shock value of the story comes from the contrast between Offred’s former life – in which she had a name of her own - and her present-day existence. If this can happen to someone like Offred, it is suggested, surely it can happen to any of us.

Or so that is what a white, middle-class reader – a reader like me – might tell herself. Recently I’ve started to wonder whether that’s strictly true. It can be reassuring to stick to one narrative, one type of baddie – the religious puritan, the pussy-grabbing president, the woman-hating Right. But what if it’s more complicated than that? There’s something about the current wallowing in Atwood’s vision that strikes me as, if not self-indulgent, then at the very least naive.

In 1985, the same year The Handmaid’s Tale was published, Gina Correa published The Mother Machine. This was not a work of dystopian fiction, but a feminist analysis of the impact of reproductive technologies on women’s liberties. Even so, there are times when it sounds positively Handmaid’s Tale-esque:

“Once embryo transfer technology is developed, the surrogate industry could look for breeders – not only in poverty-stricken parts of the United States, but in the Third World as well. There, perhaps, one tenth of the current fee could be paid to women”

Perhaps, at the time her book was written, Correa’s imaginings sounded every bit as dark and outlandish as Atwood’s. And yet she has been proved right. Today there are parts of the world in which renting the womb of a poor woman is indeed ten times cheaper than in the US. The choice of wealthy white couples to implant embryos in the bodies of brown women is seen, not as colonialist exploitation, but as a neutral consumer choice. I can’t help wondering why, if the fate of the fictional Offred is so horrifying to western feminists today, the fate of real-life women in surrogacy hostels is causing so little outrage.

I suppose the main argument of these feminists would be that real-life women choose to be surrogates, whereas Offred does not. But is the distinction so clear? If Offred refuses to work as a handmaid, she may be sent to the Colonies, where life expectancy is short. Yet even this is a choice of sorts. As she herself notes, “nothing is going on here that I haven't signed up for. There wasn't a lot of choice but there was some, and this is what I chose.” In the real world, grinding poverty drives women of colour to gestate the babies of the wealthy. As one Indian surrogate tells interviewer Seemi Pasha, “Why would I be a surrogate for someone else if I don't need the money? Why would I make myself go through this pain?"

None of the feminists who expressed shock at Justin Humphrey referring to pregnant women as “hosts” have, as far as I am aware, expressed the same horror at surrogacy agencies using the exact same term. As Dorothy Roberts wrote in Killing The Black Body, the notion of reproductive liberty remains “primarily concerned with the interests of white, middle-class women” and  “focused on the right to abortion.” The right not just to decide if and when to have children, but to have children of one’s own – something women of colour have frequently been denied – can be of little interest of those who have never really feared losing it (hence the cloth-eared response of many white women to Beyoncè’s Grammy performance).

As Roberts notes, “reproductive liberty must encompass more than the protection of an individual woman’s choice to end her pregnancy”:

“It must encompass the full range of procreative activities, including the ability to bear a child, and it must acknowledge that we make reproductive decisions within a social context, including inequalities of wealth and power. Reproductive freedom is a matter of social justice, not individual choice.”

It’s easy to mock the pretensions to pro-life piety of a pussy-grabbing president. But what about the white liberal left’s insistence that criticising the global trade in sexual and gestational services is “telling a women what she can and cannot do with her body” and as such is illiberal and wrong? “Individual choice” can be every bit as much of a false, woman-hating god as the one worshipped by the likes of Humphrey and Trump.

One of the most distressing scenes in The Handmaid’s Tale takes place when Janine/Ofwarren has just given birth and has her child taken from her:

“We stand between Janine and the bed, so she won’t have to see this. Someone gives her a drink of grape juice. I hope there’s wine in it, she’s still having the pains, for the afterbirth, she’s crying helplessly, burnt-out miserable tears.”

Right now there are women suffering in just this way. Only they’re probably not white, nor middle-class, nor sitting in a twee white bedroom in Middle America. Oh, and they’re not fictional, either.

The dystopian predictions of 1985 have already come true. It’s just that women like me didn’t notice until we started to be called “hosts”, too.

Glosswitch is a feminist mother of three who works in publishing.