Why UKIP's right wing economics won't appeal to the city

They're far too simple.

“The government has NO money!!!” – so erupted a speaker at a lunch at the House of Commons, and he brought down his fist so hard on the table the water glasses bounced into the air. As they landed, even I received the message that this was someone with a sense of conviction.

To be fair this wasn’t the first time I had come across Professor Tim Congdon: he was one of the first people to warn of the impending problems in the UK economy in a 1987 Channel 4 opinion piece just at the time when everyone else was congratulating themselves that the Thatcher government had achieved the holy grail of a deunionised, free market economy based upon borrowed money. People had been persuaded that everybody could be materially equal as long as you were up to your neck in debt but Congdon was intent on pricking that particular bubble. Much to everyone’s annoyance, he was right.

Fast forward some time from the tub-thumping House of Commons moment and Congdon is standing for the leadership of the UK Independence Party (UKIP) against Nigel Farage. He loses, but in the process has imbedded himself deeply into the early intellectual base of the party, mainly because he is usually right on economics. His main area of interest is how money dictates inflation. Or, more to the point, how the growth of borrowed money dictates inflation: the more borrowed money there is, the more inflation there is. It seems a self-evident truth but some are apt to violate it from time to time. The departure from this mantra led Congdon to become disappointed with Margaret Thatcher in the latter years of her premiership. Unforgivably, inflation had hardly changed, at some 10 per cent, at the end as at the beginning of her premiership, because according to Congdon she ignored the law of controlling broad money supply  – it was a betrayal of his principles.

Congdon is famously unforgiving to people who contradict him on economic matters, especially when he believes himself to be uncontrovertibly right. But it isn’t out of a sense of hand-wringing fear that one wonders why he is so absent in UKIP’s public statements on economic policy even though he is officially UKIP’s economics spokesman. Perhaps even more interesting, why there are no economic policies on UKIP’s website? There is a long exposition on their position on tax, written by Godfrey Bloom MEP, but that is all. Bloom laces his text with classical references from Adam Smith through David Ricardo, Arthur Laffer and the Regan/Thatcher nexus. You get the feeling Aristotle is missing merely because there wasn’t enough room.

There are some economic principles within Bloom’s thesis: an acknowledgement of the UK’s chronic debt position, recognition of the rising UK interest bill and the desire to reduce taxes to increase the tax take. There is also the claim of being able to reduce government expenditure by £90bn a year without touching front-line services, including defence. There is advocacy of low and flat taxes and the idea that people are better than governments at spending their own money. If you shut your eyes and had it read out loud you would be forgiven for confusing it with a Conservative Party political broadcast (particularly if you left out the stuff about Europe but even that is beginning to harmonise).

What UKIP appeal to is what they would call common sense economics. They are “sound money” advocates: they see the economy like a PLC or a household. They certainly don’t advocate policies that would put them in the camp of those who would use that last hiding place of failed economic policy – currency devaluation – as a tool for economic management. The economist David Blanchflower would be shaking his head in disbelief at this omission, as though – in a famous similie -- they were going onto a golf course with only a driver and a putter in their bag.

On the surface you could be forgiven for assuming that if the UKIP economic thesis, such as it is, could be brought together into something with specific implementation points, there would be many in the clubs up and down Pall Mall and the wine bars of the City of London nodding in agreement with the principles evinced. But this forgets that proper capitalists don’t necessarily want sound money policies: they may welcome low taxes but in capitalist societies all profits are financed through a lavish debt cycle which is the antimatter of sound money and, by extension, of Tim Congdon. Rapacious and calculating capitalists beset by cold ambition for profit would rather see a party in power which lets society at large flash the cash than one that saved up for an indulgence sometime in the future. So to say that the City, or business generally, would automatically welcome UKIP on the basis of ostensibly right-wing policies is too simplistic.

The right isn’t synonymous with capitalists and capitalism isn’t synonymous with financial temperance. In fact, arguably, the opposite is true and may be what is needed in the future. UKIP have a problem.

Nigel Farage. Photograph: Getty Images

Head of Fixed Income and Macro, Old Mutual Global Investors

Getty
Show Hide image

The Women's March against Trump matters – but only if we keep fighting

We won’t win the battle for progressive ideas if we don’t battle in the first place.

Arron Banks, UKIP-funder, Brexit cheerleader and Gibraltar-based insurance salesman, took time out from Trump's inauguration to tweet me about my role in tomorrow's Women’s March Conservative values are in the ascendancy worldwide. Thankfully your values are finished. . . good”.

Just what about the idea of women and men marching for human rights causes such ill will? The sense it is somehow cheeky to say we will champion equality whoever is in office in America or around the world. After all, if progressives like me have lost the battle of ideas, what difference does it make whether we are marching, holding meetings or just moaning on the internet?

The only anti-democratic perspective is to argue that when someone has lost the argument they have to stop making one. When political parties lose elections they reflect, they listen, they learn but if they stand for something, they don’t disband. The same is true, now, for the broader context. We should not dismiss the necessity to learn, to listen, to reflect on the rise of Trump – or indeed reflect on the rise of the right in the UK  but reject the idea that we have to take a vow of silence if we want to win power again.

To march is not to ignore the challenges progressives face. It is to start to ask what are we prepared to do about it.

Historically, conservatives have had no such qualms about regrouping and remaining steadfast in the confidence they have something worth saying. In contrast, the left has always been good at absolving itself of the need to renew.

We spend our time seeking the perfect candidates, the perfect policy, the perfect campaign, as a precondition for action. It justifies doing nothing except sitting on the sidelines bemoaning the state of society.

We also seem to think that changing the world should be easier than reality suggests. The backlash we are now seeing against progressive policies was inevitable once we appeared to take these gains for granted and became arrogant and exclusive about the inevitability of our worldview. Our values demand the rebalancing of power, whether economic, social or cultural, and that means challenging those who currently have it. We may believe that a more equal world is one in which more will thrive, but that doesn’t mean those with entrenched privilege will give up their favoured status without a fight or that the public should express perpetual gratitude for our efforts via the ballot box either.  

Amongst the conferences, tweets and general rumblings there seem three schools of thought about what to do next. The first is Marxist  as in Groucho revisionism: to rise again we must water down our principles to accommodate where we believe the centre ground of politics to now be. Tone down our ideals in the hope that by such acquiescence we can eventually win back public support for our brand – if not our purpose. The very essence of a hollow victory.

The second is to stick to our guns and stick our heads in the sand, believing that eventually, when World War Three breaks out, the public will come grovelling back to us. To luxuriate in an unwillingness to see we are losing not just elected offices but the fight for our shared future.

But what if there really was a third way? It's not going to be easy, and it requires more than a hashtag or funny t-shirt. It’s about picking ourselves up, dusting ourselves down and starting to renew our call to arms in a way that makes sense for the modern world.

For the avoidance of doubt, if we march tomorrow and then go home satisfied we have made our point then we may as well not have marched at all. But if we march and continue to organise out of the networks we make, well, then that’s worth a Saturday in the cold. After all, we won’t win the battle of ideas, if we don’t battle.

We do have to change the way we work. We do have to have the courage not to live in our echo chambers alone. To go with respect and humility to debate and discuss the future of our communities and of our country.

And we have to come together to show there is a willingness not to ask a few brave souls to do that on their own. Not just at election times, but every day and in every corner of Britain, no matter how difficult it may feel.

Saturday is one part of that process of finding others willing not just to walk a mile with a placard, but to put in the hard yards to win the argument again for progressive values and vision. Maybe no one will show up. Maybe not many will keep going. But whilst there are folk with faith in each other, and in that alternative future, they’ll find a friend in me ready to work with them and will them on  and then Mr Banks really should be worried.