Bored with economic ills? Let's use the Samoan solution

Simply scrap 2012 and move to 2013 where things can only get better.

As both Labour and the Tories squabble over the way ahead for Britain in 2012, neither seems to have considered the Samoan solution. This is a once in a lifetime panacea for all economic ills, available, like those sale bargains, for one day only.

Because it straddles the International Date Line, Samoa has the option of looking either east or west for its time. Concerned that it was out of kilter with its main market, Australia, the tiny Pacific island has come up with a unique solution.

To align its time with its main trading partners, Samoa, along with neighbouring Tokelau, has scrapped today -- December 30. When the citizens of Samoa went to bed yesterday it was Thursday, and when they woke up it was Saturday. Geordie drinkers of Newcastle Brown Ale will know the feeling, but this time there is no headache or embarrassing memories (unless of course you are a Geordie in Samoa). But we digress.

The Samoan solution, once applied to world economics, releases us from the pro- and anti-Keynsian debate of now into a new world of simple solutions to present problems.

Ed Miliband and his alter Ed --- the other one -- are ending this year as they began it: in the doo-doo. It is said that apart from leading the nation into a chorus of "Always Look On The Brightside", they have nothing to offer.

But if they seize the Samoan solution, then they have. Simply scrap 2012 and move to 2013 where things can only get better.

Some might argue this is a nonsense approach to economics -- but then, have you read the alternatives?


Peter McHugh is the former Director of Programmes at GMTV and Chief Executive Officer of Quiddity Productions.


Peter McHugh is the former Director of Programmes at GMTV and Chief Executive Officer of Quiddity Productions

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Why relations between Theresa May and Philip Hammond became tense so quickly

The political imperative of controlling immigration is clashing with the economic imperative of maintaining growth. 

There is no relationship in government more important than that between the prime minister and the chancellor. When Theresa May entered No.10, she chose Philip Hammond, a dependable technocrat and long-standing ally who she had known since Oxford University. 

But relations between the pair have proved far tenser than anticipated. On Wednesday, Hammond suggested that students could be excluded from the net migration target. "We are having conversations within government about the most appropriate way to record and address net migration," he told the Treasury select committee. The Chancellor, in common with many others, has long regarded the inclusion of students as an obstacle to growth. 

The following day Hammond was publicly rebuked by No.10. "Our position on who is included in the figures has not changed, and we are categorically not reviewing whether or not students are included," a spokesman said (as I reported in advance, May believes that the public would see this move as "a fix"). 

This is not the only clash in May's first 100 days. Hammond was aggrieved by the Prime Minister's criticisms of loose monetary policy (which forced No.10 to state that it "respects the independence of the Bank of England") and is resisting tougher controls on foreign takeovers. The Chancellor has also struck a more sceptical tone on the UK's economic prospects. "It is clear to me that the British people did not vote on June 23 to become poorer," he declared in his conference speech, a signal that national prosperity must come before control of immigration. 

May and Hammond's relationship was never going to match the remarkable bond between David Cameron and George Osborne. But should relations worsen it risks becoming closer to that beween Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling. Like Hammond, Darling entered the Treasury as a calm technocrat and an ally of the PM. But the extraordinary circumstances of the financial crisis transformed him into a far more assertive figure.

In times of turmoil, there is an inevitable clash between political and economic priorities. As prime minister, Brown resisted talk of cuts for fear of the electoral consequences. But as chancellor, Darling was more concerned with the bottom line (backing a rise in VAT). By analogy, May is focused on the political imperative of controlling immigration, while Hammond is focused on the economic imperative of maintaining growth. If their relationship is to endure far tougher times they will soon need to find a middle way. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.