The dangers of ignoring this recession's bitter regional edge

The north of England and many of the other English regions are enduring a daily squeeze that is seld

As we all know, northerners are made of stern stuff and historically have seized any opportunities thrown their way. Nonetheless, with regards to recent economic trends north of The Wash, we all have ample cause to feel miserable.

Consider recent form: that the north-east and Yorkshire and Humber were the top regions in the country for increases in unemployment in the last quarter. Unemployment in the whole north now stands at 9.45 per cent (compared to a national average of 8.2 per cent) a rate the north has not had to endure since 1995. Manufacturing, a sector with more clout in the north of England than the rest of the UK, shrank by 0.6 per cent in from June to August. Worse, recent business surveys suggest that while the private sector in the north is recovering from a difficult business environment over the summer, the flow of new orders coming in to northern businesses looks precarious.

The north of England and many of the other English regions are, day in day out, enduring a daily squeeze that is seldom acknowledged. Whitehall's apparent ill-regard to northern concerns was exemplified by last week's public sector unemployment figures. Latest research shows that in one year, 121,000 public sector jobs have been lost up north while 32,000 have been gained down south. This sits uneasily with the government's apparent aim to make cuts as "fair" as possible. As the accountancy firm Begbies Traynor reported recently, companies in the north-east, north-west and Yorkshire are being hit hardest by public sector retrenchment, with many small and medium sized enterprises disproportionately squeezed. Likewise, large companies like Boots have noted the stark impact cuts are having on their sales and consumer confidence in the north. We expect the labour market numbers, issued this Thursday, to reaffirm this glum picture.

Were it needed, this is all yet further proof that this great recession has a bitter regional edge. Through recent events in Europe, we have seen how one country's economic situation and performance can drastically differ from others. So it is in the English regions. Without a greater focus on spatial rebalancing and the significant decentralisation of central government functions away from Whitehall, both employment and demographic patterns are unlikely to shift. This matters to everyone: recent research from the OECD confirms that it is in a country's "lagging" regions (which make up 56 per cent of UK output) that the economic future lies. We must get growth in these regions in order to achieve growth and prosperity nationally. Positive growth figures in the north-west and Yorkshire in recent days are to be welcomed, but overall, there is still much with which to be greatly concerned.

Though we talk of a "UK economy" it is, largely, a falsehood. We need a more a nuanced understanding in our discourse as to how this great calamity is affecting the ordinary lives of those outside the greater south-east. Many of the wider iniquities that exist are seldom discussed. We in the north want to get out of this hole ourselves. To that end, IPPR North's Northern Economic Futures Commission is currently considering a wide array of proposals to kick start northern growth and make the north one of UK PLC's great success stories. But so long as we approach England and Britain as one economic bloc, with one set of economic priorities, we can never succeed -- it's time for Whitehall to recognise that.

Lewis Goodall is Researcher at IPPR North

 

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In the 1980s, I went to a rally where Labour Party speakers shared the stage with men in balaclavas

The links between the Labour left and Irish republicanism are worth investigating.

A spat between Jeremy Corbyn’s henchfolk and Conor McGinn, the MP for St Helens North, caught my ear the other evening. McGinn was a guest on BBC Radio 4’s Westminster Hour, and he obligingly revisited the brouhaha for the listeners at home. Apparently, following an interview in May, in which McGinn called for Corbyn to “reach out beyond his comfort zone”, he was first threatened obliquely with the sack, then asked for a retraction (which he refused to give) and finally learned – from someone in the whips’ office – that his party leader was considering phoning up McGinn’s father to whip the errant whipper-in into line. On the programme, McGinn said: “The modus operandi that he [Corbyn] and the people around him were trying to do [sic], involving my family, was to isolate and ostracise me from them and from the community I am very proud to come from – which is an Irish nationalist community in south Armagh.”

Needless to say, the Labour leader’s office has continued to deny any such thing, but while we may nurture some suspicions about his behaviour, McGinn was also indulging in a little airbrushing when he described south Armagh as an “Irish ­nationalist community”. In the most recent elections, Newry and Armagh returned three Sinn Fein members to the Northern Ireland Assembly (as against one Social Democratic and Labour Party member) and one Sinn Fein MP to Westminster. When I last looked, Sinn Fein was still a republican, rather than a nationalist, party – something that McGinn should only be too well aware of, as the paternal hand that was putatively to have been lain on him belongs to Pat McGinn, the former Sinn Fein mayor of Newry and Armagh.

According to the Irish News, a “close friend” of the McGinns poured this cold water on the mini-conflagration: “Anybody who knows the McGinn family knows that Pat is very proud of Conor and that they remain very close.” The friend went on to opine: “He [Pat McGinn] found the whole notion of Corbyn phoning him totally ridiculous – as if Pat is going to criticise his son to save Jeremy Corbyn’s face. They would laugh about it were it not so sinister.”

“Sinister” does seem the mot juste. McGinn, Jr grew up in Bessbrook during the Troubles. I visited the village in the early 1990s on assignment. The skies were full of the chattering of British army Chinooks, and there were fake road signs in the hedgerows bearing pictograms of rifles and captioned: “Sniper at work”. South Armagh had been known for years as “bandit country”. There were army watchtowers standing sentinel in the dinky, green fields and checkpoints everywhere, manned by some of the thousands of the troops who had been deployed to fight what was, in effect, a low-level counter-insurgency war. Nationalist community, my foot.

What lies beneath the Corbyn-McGinn spat is the queered problematics of the ­relationship between the far left wing of the Labour Party and physical-force Irish republicanism. I also recall, during the hunger strikes of the early 1980s, going to a “Smash the H-Blocks” rally in Kilburn, north London, at which Labour Party speakers shared the stage with representatives from Sinn Fein, some of whom wore balaclavas and dark glasses to evade the telephoto lenses of the Met’s anti-terrorist squad.

The shape-shifting relationship between the “political wing” of the IRA and the men with sniper rifles in the south Armagh bocage was always of the essence of the conflict, allowing both sides a convenient fiction around which to posture publicly and privately negotiate. In choosing to appear on platforms with people who might or might not be terrorists, Labour leftists also sprinkled a little of their stardust on themselves: the “stardust” being the implication that they, too, under the right circumstances, might be capable of violence in pursuit of their political ends.

On the far right of British politics, Her Majesty’s Government and its apparatus are referred to derisively as “state”. There were various attempts in the 1970s and 1980s by far-right groupuscules to link up with the Ulster Freedom Fighters and other loyalist paramilitary organisations in their battle against “state”. All foundered on the obvious incompetence of the fascists. The situation on the far left was different. The socialist credentials of Sinn Fein/IRA were too threadbare for genuine expressions of solidarity, but there was a sort of tacit confidence-and-supply arrangement between these factions. The Labour far left provided the republicans with the confidence that, should an appropriately radical government be elected to Westminster, “state” would withdraw from Northern Ireland. What the republicans did for the mainland militants was to cloak them in their penumbra of darkness: without needing to call down on themselves the armed might of “state”, they could imply that they were willing to take it on, should the opportunity arise.

I don’t for a second believe that Corbyn was summoning up these ghosts of the insurrectionary dead when he either did or did not threaten to phone McGinn, Sr. But his supporters need to ask themselves what they’re getting into. Their leader, if he was to have remained true to the positions that he has espoused over many years, should have refused to sit as privy counsellor upon assuming his party office, and refused all the other mummery associated with the monarchical “state”. That he didn’t do so was surely a strategic decision. Such a position would make him utterly unelectable.

The snipers may not be at work in south Armagh just now – but there are rifles out there that could yet be dug up. I wouldn’t be surprised if some in Sinn Fein knew where they are, but one thing’s for certain: Corbyn hasn’t got a clue, bloody or otherwise. 

Will Self is an author and journalist. His books include Umbrella, Shark, The Book of Dave and The Butt. He writes the Madness of Crowds and Real Meals columns for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser