Will the spending round crush urban growth?

Alexandra Jones welcomes funding for skills, but worries that grants to pay for councils and growth have been wiped out.

Everyone knew there would be very little money to spare in Wednesday’s spending round and Thursday’s "growth statement". The economy’s poor performance has put paid to any attempts to move away from "austerity" government, so departmental cuts of up to 10 per cent came as no surprise. Yet the big question for me was whether the Review – which, it’s worth remembering, doesn’t even get put into practice until 2015 – would start to signal an alternation in the balance of power, away from most decisions being taken centrally about how money is spent and towards more local decision- about how best to deliver jobs, growth and better public services for much less money. So did it happen?

The honest, if unexciting, answer is that it’s a mixed picture – the rhetoric is going in the right direction but Government still lacks a "place" focus in its approach to national policy, and many of the the decisions about devolution were fairly timid, with too much emphasis on central government control rather than local autonomy.

Take Heseltine’s Single Local Growth Fund. Heseltine suggested it could be as much as £49bn over four years; it ended up being £2bn a year for five years. While it’s good news that a direction of travel has been established, creating some degree of certainty for local enterprise partnerships (LEPs) wishing to make investment decisions, £2bn is hardly a ringing endorsement for devolution to local areas. Digging beneath the detail, much of the money is not new – about £700m has already been allocated to local areas for transport or the New Homes Bonus – and when you divide it between 39 LEPs, it's not a great deal of money, roughly the same as the nine Regional Development Agencies had in the mid 2000s. 

It is good to see skills money in there, however, and now it’s been created it will be difficult to put the localism genie back in the bottle – provided local areas deliver. The challenge for Whitehall as it finalises guidance about how the money will be allocated is to ensure that, even if the amounts are smaller than I had hoped, there is devolution of decision-making and that access to the funds do not involve local areas jumping through a lot of Whitehall-devised hoops.

It’s also unclear whether the welcome announcements on affordable housing, super-fast broadband and transport will respond to the needs of different places. The £3bn of capital investment to build 165,000 affordable homes, along with the £250m announced for more super-fast broadband are welcome and will make a difference in cities across the country, as will the vast number of inter- and intra-city transport schemes that were announced. My concern is that as we move from policy announcements to prioritisation and implementation, the significance of the differences between places will be missed by Whitehall departments. 

Finally, it was not a surprise that local government has again been hit hard by cuts, receiving a 10 per cent cut that Stephanie Flanders of the BBC suggested would amount to a 35 per cent cut in real terms for local government since 2010 (although the Chancellor argued that other measures meant that the "true" cut for local government would be 2 per cent in 2015/16). Combined with cuts in welfare, which will affect some city economies significantly, it will be very tough for many cities to manage their budgets giving rising demands for their services. 

To help them manage cuts more effectively, more action is needed on innovative measures that increase local autonomy. It was good to see confirmation of Manchester's Earn Back deal, involving Manchester keeping a proportion of the benefits generated by increasing local economic growth. It was also good to see additional money for Troubled Families, but I would have liked to see more steps taken down the road of "Community Budgets", allowing local areas to pool budgets across silos in order to deliver more effective, efficient local services in a way already demonstrated in pilot areas such as Manchester and Essex. 

So where does this leave us? I’m an optimist, so I still hope that as the detail emerges over the next few weeks and months this will show that government is putting "place" at the heart of its policy-making. In the meantime, in the two years before these announcements kick in, there’s still more to do to give greater freedom to cities with the capacity to deliver and provide greater support to those cities struggling with capacity, decline or both.

Alexandra Jones is the director of the Centre for Cities

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How Donald Trump is slouching towards the Republican nomination

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb.

In America, you can judge a crowd by its merchandise. Outside the Connecticut Convention Centre in Hartford, frail old men and brawny moms are selling “your Trump 45 football jerseys”, “your hats”, “your campaign buttons”. But the hottest item is a T-shirt bearing the slogan “Hillary sucks . . . but not like Monica!” and, on the back: “Trump that bitch!” Inside, beyond the checkpoint manned by the Transportation Security Administration and the secret service (“Good!” the man next to me says, when he sees the agents), is a family whose three kids, two of them girls, are wearing the Monica shirt.

Other people are content with the shirts they arrived in (“Waterboarding – baptising terrorists with freedom” and “If you don’t BLEED red, white and blue, take your bitch ass home!”). There are 80 chairs penned off for the elderly but everyone else is standing: guys in motorcycle and military gear, their arms folded; aspiring deal-makers, suited, on cellphones; giggling high-school fatsos, dressed fresh from the couch, grabbing M&M’s and Doritos from the movie-theatre-style concession stands. So many baseball hats; deep, bellicose chants of “Build the wall!” and “USA!”. (And, to the same rhythm, “Don-ald J!”)

A grizzled man in camouflage pants and combat boots, whose T-shirt – “Connecticut Militia III%” – confirms him as a member of the “patriot” movement, is talking to a zealous young girl in a short skirt, who came in dancing to “Uptown Girl”.

“Yeah, we were there for Operation American Spring,” he says. “Louis Farrakhan’s rally of hate . . .”

“And you’re a veteran?” she asks. “Thank you so much!”

Three hours will pass. A retired US marine will take the rostrum to growl, “God bless America – hoo-rah!”; “Uptown Girl” will play many more times (much like his speeches, Donald J’s playlist consists of a few items, repeated endlessly), before Trump finally looms in and asks the crowd: “Is this the greatest place on Earth?”

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb. Only a minority within a minority of Americans, it was assumed, could possibly be stupid enough to think a Trump presidency was a good idea. He won New Hampshire and South Carolina with over 30 per cent of the Republican vote, then took almost 46 per cent in Nevada. When he cleaned up on Super Tuesday in March, he was just shy of 50 per cent in Massachusetts; a week later, he took 47 per cent of the votes in Mississippi.

His rivals, who are useless individually, were meant to co-operate with each other and the national party to deny him the nomination. But Trump won four out of the five key states being contested on “Super-Duper Tuesday” on 15 March. Then, as talk turned to persuading and co-opting his delegates behind the scenes, Trump won New York with 60 per cent.

Now, the campaign is trying to present Trump as more “presidential”. According to his new manager, Paul Manafort, this requires him to appear in “more formal settings” – without, of course, diluting “the unique magic of Trump”. But whether or not he can resist denouncing the GOP and the “corrupt” primary system, and alluding to violence if he is baulked at at the convention, the new Trump will be much the same as the old.

Back in Hartford: “The Republicans wanna play cute with us, right? If I don’t make it, you’re gonna have millions of people that don’t vote for a Republican. They’re not gonna vote at all,” says Trump. “Hopefully that’s all, OK? Hopefully that’s all, but they’re very, very angry.”

This anger, which can supposedly be turned on anyone who gets in the way, has mainly been vented, so far, on the protesters who disrupt Trump’s rallies. “We’re not gonna be the dummies that lose all of our jobs now. We’re gonna be the smart ones. Oh, do you have one over there? There’s one of the dummies . . .”

There is a frenzied fluttering of Trump placards, off to his right. “Get ’em out! . . . Don’t hurt ’em – see how nice I am? . . . They really impede freedom of speech and it’s a disgrace. But the good news is, folks, it won’t be long. We’re just not taking it and it won’t be long.”

It is their removal by police, at Trump’s ostentatious behest, that causes the disruption, rather than the scarcely audible protesters. He seems to realise this, suddenly: “We should just let ’em . . . I’ll talk right over them, there’s no problem!” But it’s impossible to leave the protesters where they are, because it would not be safe. His crowd is too vicious.

Exit Trump, after exactly half an hour, inclusive of the many interruptions. His people seem uplifted but, out on the street, they are ambushed by a large counter-demonstration, with a booming drum and warlike banners and standards (“Black Lives Matter”; an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, holding aloft Trump’s severed head). Here is the rest of the world, the real American world: young people, beautiful people, more female than male, every shade of skin colour. “F*** Donald Trump!” they chant.

After a horrified split-second, the Trump crowd, massively more numerous, rallies with “USA!” and – perplexingly, since one of the main themes of the speech it has just heard was the lack of jobs in Connecticut – “Get a job!” The two sides then mingle, unobstructed by police. Slanging matches break out that seem in every instance to humiliate the Trump supporter. “Go to college!” one demands. “Man, I am in college, I’m doin’ lovely!”

There is no violence, only this: some black boys are dancing, with liquid moves, to the sound of the drum. Four young Trump guys counter by stripping to their waists and jouncing around madly, their skin greenish-yellow under the street lights, screaming about the building of the wall. There was no alcohol inside; they’re drunk on whatever it is – the elixir of fascism, the unique magic of Trump. It’s a hyper but not at all happy drunk.

As with every other moment of the Trump campaign so far, it would have been merely some grade of the cringeworthy – the embarrassing, the revolting, the pitiful – were Trump not slouching closer and closer, with each of these moments, to his nomination. 

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism