Ed Balls rails against cuts to manufacturing

“Curtailing ambition”.

Ed Balls used his address to yesterday’s EEF Manufacturing Conference, perhaps unsurprisingly, as a platform to rail against spending cuts in advance of the delivery of the budget in two weeks’ time.

Playing straight to his manufacturer audience’s fear of Britain sliding into industrial obscurity, he warned that the government’s obsession with deficit reduction at the expense of long-term investment would “curtail ambition” in business and “militate against” the UK’s ability to compete with Europe (read, Germany).

His appearance at the conference coincided with the publication today of a labour-commissioned report by Sir George Cox, Overcoming short-termism within British business, which argues for executive pay to reflect success over longer cycles, tax changes to favour equity markets, and a mechanism to make infrastructure investment decisions independent of political cycles.

Despite a fantastically awkward bit of audience Q&A, in which Balls avoided verbally signing his party up to Sir George’s proposals even though the report author was sitting just feet away in the front row, the rhetoric seemed to go over well with delegates.

But in terms of a demonstration of long term-thinking, the Sturm & Drang over the budget’s treatment of British business paled in comparison to the day’s opening presentation, delivered by Jim “BRICs” O’Neill, Goldman Sachs’ chairman of asset management.

As one might expect from the man who coined the now ubiquitous acronym for emerging markets, O’Neill had very little to say directly about the state of British industry, and even the UK’s fortunes in the context of the Eurozone crisis.

Instead he spoke frankly, and backed by some very big statistics, about the overwhelming importance of emerging markets, particularly China, to both the UK and world economies over the decades to come.

Professing himself to be an optimist, O’Neill predicted the world economy would grow close to 4 per cent in the current decade, largely thanks to China which, he reminded us in words notoriously borrowed by David Cameron, grows the equivalent of Greek GDP every twelve and a half weeks. To underscore the point, O’Neill mentioned in passing that China had, since the end of 2010, grown by approximately the current size of the Indian economy.

He said that if the US and China could partially reverse their traditional roles with regard to production and consumption, so that China ended up “spending more and producing less” and the US vice versa, “it would be a very good sign – and this appears to be happening.”

In response to audience anxiety over the Eurozone, he acknowledged that while Europe was still the single most important export region for the UK, the percentage of UK exports going to the Eurozone had fallen from 55 per cent to 45 per cent over the last decade, and would likely fall further to 39 per cent by 2020.

By the same point time, he argued, 17 per cent of UK exports will likely be destined for the BRICs, while Germany will probably be exporting twice as much to China as to France. If we had known that in the early 1990s, he posited, there might never have been a Eurozone in the first place.

When drawn by session chair Krishnan Guru-Murthy on what he would do if he were chancellor in two weeks, his answer said more through understatement than Balls did through twenty minutes on the soapbox:

“Those nations with more emphasis on long-term fiscal consolidation rather than a "cut debt now" mentality tend to be recovering better… It’s entirely understandable to want to lower debt and to shrink [the financial services] sector… but trying to do both at once? It could be very difficult, and I think I’ll leave it at that”.

Ed Balls. Photograph: Getty Images

By day, Fred Crawley is editor of Credit Today and Insolvency Today. By night, he reviews graphic novels for the New Statesman.

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Andy Burnham and Sadiq Khan are both slippery self-mythologisers – so why do we rate one more than the other?

Their obsessions with their childhoods have both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

Andy Burnham is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s widely seen as an unprincipled flip-flopper.

Sadiq Khan is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s the hugely popular mayor of London, the voice of those who’d be proud to think of themselves as the metropolitan liberal elite, and is even talked of as a possible future leader of the Labour party.

Oh, and also they were both born in 1970. So that’s a thing they have in common, too.

Why it is this approach to politics should have worked so much better for the mayor of London than the would-be mayor of Manchester is something I’ve been trying to work out for a while. There are definite parallels between Burnham’s attempts to present himself as a normal northern bloke who likes normal things like football, and Sadiq’s endless reminders that he’s a sarf London geezer whose dad drove a bus. They’ve both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

And yes, Burnham apparent tendency to switch sides, on everything from NHS privatisation to the 2015 welfare vote to the leadership of Jeremy Corbyn, has given him a reputation for slipperiness. But Sadiq’s core campaign pledge was to freeze London transport fares; everyone said it was nonsense, and true to form it was, and you’d be hard pressed to find an observer who thought this an atypical lapse on the mayor’s part. (Khan, too, has switched sides on the matter of Jeremy Corbyn.)

 And yet, he seems to get away with this, in a way that Burnham doesn’t. His low-level duplicity is factored in, and it’s hard to judge him for it because, well, it’s just what he’s like, isn’t it? For a long time, the Tory leadership’s line on London’s last mayor was “Boris is Boris”, meaning, look, we don’t trust him either, but what you gonna do? Well: Sadiq is Sadiq.

Even the names we refer to them by suggest that one of these two guys is viewed very differently from the other. I’ve instinctively slipped into referring to the mayor of London by his first name: he’s always Sadiq, not Khan, just as his predecessors were Boris and Ken. But, despite Eoin Clarke’s brief attempt to promote his 2015 leadership campaign with a twitter feed called “Labour Andy”, Burnham is still Burnham: formal, not familiar. 

I’ve a few theories to explain all this, though I’ve no idea which is correct. For a while I’ve assumed it’s about sincerity. When Sadiq Khan mentions his dad’s bus for the 257th time in a day, he does it with a wink to the audience, making a crack about the fact he won’t stop going on about it. That way, the message gets through to the punters at home who are only half listening, but the bored lobby hacks who’ve heard this routine two dozen times before feel they’re in the joke.

Burnham, it seems to me, lacks this lightness of touch: when he won’t stop banging on about the fact he grew up in the north, it feels uncomfortably like he means it. And to take yourself seriously in politics is sometimes to invite others to make jokes at your expense.

Then again, perhaps the problem is that Burnham isn’t quite sincere enough. Sadiq Khan genuinely is the son of a bus-driving immigrant: he may keep going on about it, but it is at least true. Burnham’s “just a northern lad” narrative is true, too, but excludes some crucial facts: that he went to Cambridge, and was working in Parliament aged 24. Perhaps that shouldn’t change how we interpret his story; but I fear, nonetheless, it does.

Maybe that’s not it, though: maybe I’m just another London media snob. Because Burnham did grow up at the disadvantaged end of the country, a region where, for too many people, chasing opportunities means leaving. The idea London is a city where the son of a bus driver can become mayor flatters our metropolitan self-image; the idea that a northerner who wants to build a career in politics has to head south at the earliest opportunity does the opposite. 

So if we roll our eyes when Burnham talks about the north, perhaps that reflects badly on us, not him: the opposite of northern chippiness is southern snobbery.

There’s one last possibility for why we may rate Sadiq Khan more highly than Andy Burnham: Sadiq Khan won. We can titter a little at the jokes and the fibs but he is, nonetheless, mayor of London. Andy Burnham is just the bloke who lost two Labour leadership campaigns.

At least – for now. In six weeks time, he’s highly likely to the first mayor of Greater Manchester. Slipperiness is not the worst quality in a mayor; and so much of the job will be about banging the drum for the city, and the region, that Burnham’s tendency to wear his northernness on his sleeve will be a positive boon.

Sadiq Khan’s stature has grown because the fact he became London’s mayor seems to say something, about the kind of city London is and the kind we want it to be. Perhaps, after May, Andy Burnham can do the same for the north – and the north can do the same for Andy Burnham.

Jonn Elledge edits the New Statesman's sister site CityMetric, and writes for the NS about subjects including politics, history and Daniel Hannan. You can find him on Twitter or Facebook.