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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Is there such a thing as responsible betting?

Punters are encouraged to bet responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly.

I try not to watch the commercials between matches, or the studio discussions, or anything really, before or after, except for the match itself. And yet there is one person I never manage to escape properly – Ray Winstone. His cracked face, his mesmerising voice, his endlessly repeated spiel follow me across the room as I escape for the lav, the kitchen, the drinks cupboard.

I’m not sure which betting company he is shouting about, there are just so many of them, offering incredible odds and supposedly free bets. In the past six years, since the laws changed, TV betting adverts have increased by 600 per cent, all offering amazingly simple ways to lose money with just one tap on a smartphone.

The one I hate is the ad for BetVictor. The man who has been fronting it, appearing at windows or on roofs, who I assume is Victor, is just so slimy and horrible.

Betting firms are the ultimate football parasites, second in wealth only to kit manufacturers. They have perfected the capitalist’s art of using OPM (Other People’s Money). They’re not directly involved in football – say, in training or managing – yet they make millions off the back of its popularity. Many of the firms are based offshore in Gibraltar.

Football betting is not new. In the Fifties, my job every week at five o’clock was to sit beside my father’s bed, where he lay paralysed with MS, and write down the football results as they were read out on Sports Report. I had not to breathe, make silly remarks or guess the score. By the inflection in the announcer’s voice you could tell if it was an away win.

Earlier in the week I had filled in his Treble Chance on the Littlewoods pools. The “treble” part was because you had three chances: three points if the game you picked was a score draw, two for a goalless draw and one point for a home or away win. You chose eight games and had to reach 24 points, or as near as possible, then you were in the money.

“Not a damn sausage,” my father would say every week, once I’d marked and handed him back his predictions. He never did win a sausage.

Football pools began in the 1920s, the main ones being Littlewoods and Vernons, both based in Liverpool. They gave employment to thousands of bright young women who checked the results and sang in company choirs in their spare time. Each firm spent millions on advertising. In 1935, Littlewoods flew an aeroplane over London with a banner saying: Littlewoods Above All!

Postwar, they blossomed again, taking in £50m a year. The nation stopped at five on a Saturday to hear the scores, whether they were interested in football or not, hoping to get rich. BBC Sports Report began in 1948 with John Webster reading the results. James Alexander Gordon took over in 1974 – a voice soon familiar throughout the land.

These past few decades, football pools have been left behind, old-fashioned, low-tech, replaced by online betting using smartphones. The betting industry has totally rebooted itself. You can bet while the match is still on, trying to predict who will get the next goal, the next corner, the next throw-in. I made the last one up, but in theory you can bet instantly, on anything, at any time.

The soft sell is interesting. With the old football pools, we knew it was a remote flutter, hoping to make some money. Today the ads imply that betting on football somehow enhances the experience, adds to the enjoyment, involves you in the game itself, hence they show lads all together, drinking and laughing and putting on bets.

At the same time, punters are encouraged to do it responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly. Responsibly and respect are now two of the most meaningless words in the football language. People have been gambling, in some form, since the beginning, watching two raindrops drip down inside the cave, lying around in Roman bathhouses playing games. All they’ve done is to change the technology. You have to respect that.

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 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war