After Greece, where now for the eurozone?

Time to look at the deep mechanical flaws in the euro's design.

It is by no means the end of the modern Greek tragedy, but the conclusion of the second €130bn bailout for Greece must mark a line in the sand.

Will the latest bail-out deal work? It is possible, but as the EU/ECB/IMF Troika made clear, it will be a long and bumpy road. But there is not much alternative.

Greece is, to all intents and purposes, insolvent. Agreement on the bailout package had to be reached because €14.5bn of debt repayments need to be made next month and Greece didn't have the cash to do it.

There are some who cling to the idea that a default and a swift return to the drachma would solve all ills, making Greece's exports cheaper and attracting tourists. If it were that simple, then it would already have happened. Unfortunately, there is no economic magic potion for a country so deep in debt and recession.

Were Greece to go into a disorderly default it would be required to pay upfront in cash for all its imports -- impossible for a country with such an acute cash flow crisis. Drachma and devaluation would simply see the Greek banking sector collapse and the country saddled with a worthless currency. There is no silver bullet.

One thing which goes without saying is that the eurozone, and the EU as a whole, have been badly fractured by the Greek crisis. Just as there is fury on the streets in Athens, there is also fury among other EU governments, particularly among the northern member states, about the statistical frauds committed by Greece and their government's failure to live up to their promises to cut their budget deficit.

The result is a toxic mix of reform fatigue in the south, and support fatigue in the north. More perniciously, the nastiest and crudest national stereotypes have returned replete with lazy, corrupt Greeks and talk of a "Fourth Reich".

Indeed, very few actors come out of the Greek crisis well. Certainly not the Greek political class which presided over statistical fraud and a corrupt system of public administration, although it seems likely that the Greek people will take their revenge at the April general elections where the historically dominant centre-right and left parties are set to be routed. Not the north European countries, who spent two years pig-headedly insisting that eye-watering interest rates and savage spending cuts should be attached to any rescue package, and then wondered why it was that the Greek economy fell deeper into recession and the debt burden soared.

Two years ago, months after the scale of its budget deficit had been unmasked, Greece's debt to GDP ratio was 140 per cent. Even with the first bailout deal and billions of euros of assistance from the European Investment Bank, the debt pile has now risen to 160 per cent.

The dust has to be allowed to settle now. The Greeks need to get on with the austerity programme they have committed to, and the German and Dutch nay-sayers must allow them to get on with it without any further humiliation. The eurozone must stop obsessing about the Greek crisis and address the systemic problems which still face it.

In many respects, the Greek crisis has diverted attention from the deepest mechanical flaws in the euro's design. It has allowed the conservative politicians who currently dominate the EU to establish a narrative of the debt crisis that regards all problems as the result of feckless overspending governments and lazy workers in Club Med, and that "structural reforms" -- for which read liberalising labour markets and reducing social protection - are the only way forward. If every country can be like Germany or the Netherlands then voila: problem solved. This approach is embodied in the Merkozy-inspired "fiscal compact" treaty.

This is utterly misguided and self-defeating. For one thing, all the evidence, from Greece, to Ireland and Portugal, and the rest of the EU, indicates that austerity programmes are doing nothing to reduce government debt and balance budgets. The diet of economic bread and water has, in most cases, actually weakened the patient. The EU urgently needs a growth and jobs strategy.

More profoundly, politicians must acknowledge that while budgetary discipline and more productive labour markets are important, they will not prevent the gap between the eurozone's richest and poorest stretching beyond sustainability.

For the eurozone to work effectively there will need to be a formal system of credit transfers to redistribute a bit of wealth from north to south.

Talk of credit transfers is -- like joint liability Eurobonds -- an anathema to the north Europeans, but it is a reality that must be faced. In a currency union with a single market, it is neither desirable nor possible for all countries to be like the member states in the virtuous north, with their current account and export surpluses.

The truth is that the north Europeans need the Club Med countries, more than vice versa, to buy their goods.

Up until now, the debt crisis has been about emergency resolution. With Greece now brought away from the depths of the economic abyss, and the fear of contagion to other countries slightly reduced, the eurozone should move away from crisis management to taking steps to ensure that the current crisis does not repeat itself. EU leaders should not kid themselves or their domestic electorates that labour market reforms and rules on budgetary discipline are the magic cure.

Without a growth strategy and an acceptance that the north-south economic divide cannot be entirely bridged, the current crisis will repeat itself.

Ben Fox is chairman of GMB Brussels and political adviser to the Socialist vice-president of economic and monetary affairs.

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The decline of the north's sporting powerhouse

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Now, things are different.

On a drive between Sheffield and Barnsley, I spotted a striking painting of the Kes poster. Billy Casper’s two-fingered salute covered the wall of a once-popular pub that is now boarded up.

It is almost 50 years since the late Barry Hines wrote A Kestrel for a Knave, the novel that inspired Ken Loach’s 1969 film, and it seems that the defiant, us-against-the-world, stick-it-to-the-man Yorkshireness he commemorated still resonates here. Almost two-thirds of the people of south Yorkshire voted to leave the EU, flicking two fingers up at what they saw as a London-based establishment, detached from life beyond the capital.

But whatever happened to Billy the unlikely lad, and the myriad other northern characters who were once the stars of stage and screen? Like the pitheads that dominated Casper’s tightly knit neighbourhood, they have disappeared from the landscape. The rot set in during the 1980s, when industries were destroyed and communities collapsed, a point eloquently made in Melvyn Bragg’s excellent radio series The Matter of the North.

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Yet today, we rarely get to hear the voices of Barnsley, Sheffield, Doncaster and Rotherham. And the Yorkshire sporting powerhouse is no more – at least, not as we once knew it.

This should be a matter of national concern. The White Rose county is, after all, the home of the world’s oldest registered football club – Sheffield FC, formed in 1857 – and the first English team to win three successive League titles, Huddersfield Town, in the mid-1920s. Hull City are now Yorkshire’s lone representative in the Premier League.

Howard Wilkinson, the manager of Leeds United when they were crowned champions in 1992, the season before the Premier League was founded, lamented the passing of a less money-obsessed era. “My dad worked at Orgreave,” he said, “the scene of Mrs Thatcher’s greatest hour, bless her. You paid for putting an axe through what is a very strong culture of community and joint responsibility.”

The best-known scene in Loach’s film shows a football match in which Mr Sugden, the PE teacher, played by Brian Glover, comically assumes the role of Bobby Charlton. It was played out on the muddy school fields of Barnsley’s run-down Athersley estate. On a visit to his alma mater a few years ago, David Bradley, who played the scrawny 15-year-old Billy, showed me the goalposts that he had swung from as a reluctant goalkeeper. “You can still see the dint in the crossbar,” he said. When I spoke to him recently, Bradley enthused about his lifelong support for Barnsley FC. “But I’ve not been to the ground over the last season and a half,” he said. “I can’t afford it.”

Bradley is not alone. Many long-standing fans have been priced out. Barnsley is only a Championship side, but for their home encounter with Newcastle last October, their fans had to pay £30 for a ticket.

The English game is rooted in the northern, working-class communities that have borne the brunt of austerity over the past six years. The top leagues – like the EU – are perceived to be out of touch and skewed in favour of the moneyed elites.

Bradley, an ardent Remainer, despaired after the Brexit vote. “They did not know what they were doing. But I can understand why. There’s still a lot of neglect, a lot of deprivation in parts of Barnsley. They feel left behind because they have been left behind.”

It is true that there has been a feel-good factor in Yorkshire following the Rio Olympics; if the county were a country, it would have finished 17th in the international medals table. Yet while millions have been invested in “podium-level athletes”, in the team games that are most relevant to the lives of most Yorkshire folk – football, cricket and rugby league – there is a clear division between sport’s elites and its grass roots. While lucrative TV deals have enriched ruling bodies and top clubs, there has been a large decrease in the number of adults playing any sport in the four years since London staged the Games.

According to figures from Sport England, there are now 67,000 fewer people in Yorkshire involved in sport than there were in 2012. In Doncaster, to take a typical post-industrial White Rose town, there has been a 13 per cent drop in participation – compared with a 0.4 per cent decline nationally.

Attendances at rugby league, the region’s “national sport”, are falling. But cricket, in theory, is thriving, with Yorkshire winning the County Championship in 2014 and 2015. Yet Joe Root, the batsman and poster boy for this renaissance, plays far more games for his country than for his county and was rested from Yorkshire’s 2016 title decider against Middlesex.

“Root’s almost not a Yorkshire player nowadays,” said Stuart Rayner, whose book The War of the White Roses chronicles the club’s fortunes between 1968 and 1986. As a fan back then, I frequently watched Geoffrey Boycott and other local stars at Headingley. My favourite was the England bowler Chris Old, a gritty, defiant, unsung anti-hero in the Billy Casper mould.

When Old made his debut, 13 of the 17-strong Yorkshire squad were registered as working-class professionals. Half a century later, three of the five Yorkshiremen selec­ted for the last Ashes series – Root, Jonny Bairstow and Gary Ballance – were privately educated. “The game of cricket now is played in public schools,” Old told me. “Top players are getting huge amounts of money, but the grass-roots game doesn’t seem to have benefited in any way.”

“In ten years’ time you won’t get a Joe Root,” Rayner said. “If you haven’t seen these top Yorkshire cricketers playing in your backyard and you haven’t got Sky, it will be difficult to get the whole cricket bug. So where is the next generation of Roots going to come from?” Or the next generation of Jessica Ennis-Hills? Three years ago, the Sheffield stadium where she trained and first discovered athletics was closed after cuts to local services.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era