The precarity of the global 99%

What The Global Fund's decision to cancel next year's funding round means for victims of Aids, TB an

In Europe and the US there is a lot of talk of austerity these days. But elsewhere in the world, the financial realities of our age of insecurity are leading not to belt-tightening but to malnutrition and disease. And things look set to get a lot worse yet.

This week's unprecedented announcement by The Global Fund to Fight Aids, TB and Malaria to cancel its next funding round is a case in point. It reveals just how precarious daily life has become for the global 99 per cent: those whose very health, as much as their job security, is pegged to the rise and fall of the money markets.

The Global Fund has for years been one of the most important fronts in the battle to beat back HIV/Aids. It has helped put 3.2 million people on anti-retroviral therapy (ARVs). But it has been running on empty for a year now, since securing just $10 billion -- half of what it hoped for -- during a major funding replenishment a year ago. Some countries also recently cut their pledges owing to concerns about the way the Global Fund is operated.

Ten billion dollars sounds like peanuts in comparison to the bank bailouts we have gotten used to in recent years -- it's about the same amount that Goldman Sachs has cheerfully set aside in bonuses again this year.

But it was the minimum figure that the Global Fund required from rich countries to sustain the many medical programmes it supports around the world. And with those countries failing to meet even downsized pledges in October, the Global Fund concluded this week, after a heated and difficult board meeting in Accra, Ghana, that it had no choice but cut the funding lifeline.

Instead, it has put in place an emergency '"transition mechanism" to safeguard the most needy, but this is no more than a tin roof over the heads of some in a rapidly worsening storm. The fact is that sooner or later people are going to be kicked off existing treatment programmes: this is already happening in Swaziland, which recently decided to forego Global Fund support and, as a result, has simply run out of drugs.

The Global Fund's apparent demise could hardly come at a more crucial time. The last couple of years had seen greater optimism in the battle against Aids. Thanks to internationally funded programmes, the number of people on ARVs had increased by 20 per cent since 2009, and many had begun looking forward to a generation free of HIV. "We have an historical opportunity now with treatment as prevention to push back against HIV," Marius Trosied, a doctor with Médecins Sans Frontières told me just a few weeks ago. But such claims require solid revenue streams to back them up. It is now far from clear how even the 7.7 million people the Global Fund claims to have already "saved" will fare in the years to come.

South Africa and Kenya have already been told they are ineligible to apply for funds this year, despite both only having treatment coverage rates of around 50 per cent.

And in Malawi, which had ambitious plans to scale up treatment provision, the question now is all about how best to manage a treatment scale-down. That is global health speak for a process of triage to determine who lives and who dies.

The root problem is not just the banking and financial crisis, says David McCoy, a public health specialist at UCL: "What is happening to the Global Fund ought to concentrate the minds and efforts of public health workers all across the world on the need to change the broader social and economic institutions within which our fragile health programmes are located."

McCoy is right: the precarity of individuals is ultimately a function of the precarity of the institutions that sustain them. That is as true in Europe and the US -- where we are seeing jobs lost, services cut, and shops boarded up along our highstreets because our institutions and systems of government do not protect us equally from the vicissitudes of the market -- as it is in global health. But of course the two are related, and some individuals are more vulnerable than others.

So when life-saving organizations like South Africa's Treatment Action Campaign declare that, because rich countries now feel they can afford to give less, they too may be forced to shutter up the premises next year, then we have to recognise that the politics of austerity we are going through has not even begun to be properly costed. This is the real lesson of the Global Fund's demise and it will require much more than simply getting wealthy donors back on board to address it.

Simon Reid-Henry is a lecturer at Queen Mary, University of London

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How the row over Jackie Walker triggered a full-blown war in Momentum

Jon Lansman, the organisation's founder, is coming under attack. 

The battle for control within Momentum, which has been brewing for some time, has begun in earnest.

In a sign of the growing unrest within the organisation – established as the continuation of Jeremy Corbyn’s first successful leadership bid, and instrumental in delivering in his re-election -  a critical pamphlet by the Alliance for Workers’ Liberty (AWL), a Trotskyite grouping, has made its way into the pages of the Times, with the “unelected” chiefs of Momentum slated for turning the organisation into a “bland blur”.

The issue of contention: between those who see Momentum as an organisation to engage new members of the Labour party, who have been motivated by Jeremy Corbyn but are not yet Corbynites.

One trade unionist from that tendency described what they see the problem as like this: “you have people who have joined to vote for Jeremy, they’re going to meetings, but they’re voting for the Progress candidates in selections, they’re voting for Eddie Izzard [who stood as an independent but Corbynsceptic candidate] in the NEC”.  

On the other are those who see a fightback by Labour’s right and centre as inevitable, and who are trying to actively create a party within a party for what they see as an inevitable purge. One activist of that opinion wryly described Momentum as “Noah’s Ark”.

For both sides, Momentum, now financially stable thanks to its membership, which now stands at over 20,000, is a great prize. And in the firing line for those who want to turn Momentum into a parallel line is Jon Lansman, the organisation’s founder.

Lansman, who came into politics as an aide to Tony Benn, is a figure of suspicion on parts of the broad left due to his decades-long commitment to the Labour party. His major opposition within Momentum and on its ruling executive comes from the AWL.

The removal of Jackie Walker as a vice-chair of Momentum after she said that Holocaust Memorial Day belittled victims of other genocides has boosted the AWL, although the AWL's Jill Mountford, who sits on Momentum's ruling executive, voted to remove Walker as vice-chair. (Walker remains on the NEC, as she has been elected by members). But despite that, the AWL, who have been critical of the process whereby Walker lost her post, have felt the benefit across the country.

Why? Because that battle has triggered a series of serious splits, not only in Momentum’s executive but its grassroots. A raft of local groups have thrown out the local leadership, mostly veterans of Corbyn’s campaign for the leadership, for what the friend of one defeated representative described as “people who believe the Canary [a pro-Corbyn politics website that is regularly accused of indulging and promoting conspiracy theories]”.

In a further series of reverses for the Lansmanite caucus, the North West, a Momentum stronghold since the organisation was founded just under a year ago, is slipping away from old allies of Lansman and towards the “new” left. As one insider put it, the transition is from longstanding members towards people who had been kicked out in the late 1980s and early 1990s by Neil Kinnock. The constituency party of Wallasey in particular is giving senior figures in Momentum headaches just as it is their opponents on the right of the party, with one lamenting that they have “lost control” of the group.

It now means that planned changes to Momentum’s structure, which the leadership had hoped to be rubberstamped by members, now face a fraught path to passage.

Adding to the organisation’s difficulties is the expected capture of James Schneider by the leader’s office. Schneider, who appears widely on television and radio as the public face of Momentum and is well-liked by journalists, has an offer on the table to join Jeremy Corbyn’s team at Westminster as a junior to Seumas Milne.

The move, while a coup for Corbyn, is one that Momentum – and some of Corbyn’s allies in the trade union movement – are keen to resist. Taking a job in the leader’s office would reduce still further the numbers of TV-friendly loyalists who can go on the airwaves and defend the leadership. There is frustration among the leader’s office that as well as Diane Abbott and John McDonnell, who are both considered to be both polished media performers and loyalists, TV bookers turn to Ken Livingstone, who is retired and unreliable, and Paul Mason, about whom opinions are divided within Momentum. Some regard Mason as a box office performer who needs a bigger role, others as a liability.

But all are agreed that Schneider’s expected departure will weaken the media presence of Corbyn loyalists and also damage Momentum. Schneider has spent much of his time not wrangling journalists but mediating in local branches and is regarded as instrumental in the places “where Momentum is working well” in the words of one trade unionist. (Cornwall is regarded as a particular example of what the organisation should be aiming towards)

It comes at a time when Momentum’s leadership is keen to focus both on its external campaigns but the struggle for control in the Labour party. Although Corbyn has never been stronger within the party, no Corbynite candidate has yet prevailed in a by-election, with the lack of available candidates at a council level regarded as part of the problem. Councilors face mandatory reselection as a matter of course, and the hope is that a bumper crop of pro-Corbyn local politicians will go on to form the bulk of the talent pool for vacant seats in future by-elections and in marginal seats at the general election.

But at present, a draining internal battle is sapping Momentum of much of its vitality. But Lansman retains two trump cards. The first is that as well as being the founder of the organisation, he is its de facto owner: the data from Jeremy Corbyn’s leadership campaigns, without which much of the organisation could not properly run, is owned by a limited company of which he is sole director. But “rolling it up and starting again” is very much the nuclear option, that would further delay the left’s hopes of consolidating its power base in the party.

The second trump card, however, is the tribalism of many of the key players at a local level, who will resist infiltration by groups to Labour’s left just as fiercely as many on the right. As one veteran of both Corbyn’s campaigns reflected: “If those who have spent 20 years attacking our party think they have waiting allies in the left of Labour, they are woefully mistaken”. 

Stephen Bush is special correspondent at the New Statesman. His daily briefing, Morning Call, provides a quick and essential guide to British politics.