Cameron's prescriptions for Europe miss the point (again)

The Prime Minister wants to talk about growth, but recognising the impact of German plans for collec

David Cameron wants Britain to play an integral role in reforming the European Union. He really does. His speech in Davos today explained how he is committed to reviving the continent's flagging economies with an agenda for boosting growth - deregulation; liberalisation, competitive taxation.

This is a familiar tune. Britain's position under Labour wasn't so very different - accepting a degree of political integration as the necessary price for creating an open, free trading space of continental scale and hoping, over time, to make that space look more like the UK economy and less like the French one.

The problem now, as I wrote in my column this week, is that the kind of diplomacy that is required actually to drive that agenda in the European Council - involving compromise, long-term nurturing of relationships with EU leaders; demonstrations of commitment to the European project - is also the kind of behaviour that the Conservative party generally finds unacceptable in a leader. In other words, Cameron can say this stuff, but he is no closer to getting it done if he can't build the strategic majorities among fellow EU member states to make it happen.

But there is another problem. Cameron's analysis of the EU's growth problems necessarily has to exclude discussion of the effect on demand of choreographed mass austerity - to concede that point would be to admit that the same force is in play in Britain. But clearly this is an issue. In his speech, the Prime Minister praised efforts by eurozone countries to bring their public finances under control - the drive for a fiscal compact led by German Chancellor Angela Merkel - but warned that it was not enough. He encourages the single currency bloc to consider issuing euro-bonds and effecting transfers between states - a true fiscal union, in other words. He essentially told Merkel to dip into her budget to save the euro.

If Cameron understands the inadequacy of Merkel's plans at the level of budget imbalances inside the eurozone, why does he not understand the related problem of German-enforced austerity for the continent draining aggregate demand? Why does he insist on offering only long-term supply-side solutions to the problem of European growth? The answer, I suspect, is that the government does understand the issue but it is taboo because of the coalition's political commitment to make austerity a morally inviolate part of domestic economic policy.

There was a meeting last week of the Franco-British Colloque - a top-level club of politicians, academics, business leaders etc to discuss cross-channel issues. It meets annually and this time the gathering was held in the UK. George Osborne was there and, someone who was present tells me, in the discussions of the EU's growth problem, the Chancellor effectively acknowledged the macroeconomic case against collective European austerity. He simply couldn't accept that it was relevant to the policies he is deploying in Britain. Treasury economists will surely be telling him the same thing: Merkel's fetish for fiscal conservatism is going to drag Europe down.

If Cameron wants to take a lead in promoting growth in Europe he could start by making that point. He can't of course, at least not without repudiating the central tenet of his government's economic policy.

Rafael Behr is political columnist at the Guardian and former political editor of the New Statesman

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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