Give working people more money because they will spend it

It's not about fairness, it's about the economy, stupid.

To date, the history of our current financial crisis has concentrated minds on the distribution of wealth in a way that we haven’t really seen for a generation. Filled with materialistic expectations, the withdrawal of credit and government subsidies from society has brought home some harsh realities. We can’t afford the lifestyle we have come to think we are entitled to. Wealthy people, once seen as social leaders, are increasingly treated as though they somehow stole what they earned.

Most of the time the redistribution of wealth is put in political terms – it ignores who had the original idea for a company or product or who put the money up in the first place to fund it. Instead, agitators argue that workers, because it is their toil that creates the goods and services, should get an equal participation in profits. Ironically, this is probably the right answer but the wrong reason – people should be given more money so that they can spend it.

The World Bank recently released numbers on the distribution of Corrado Gini’s index of income and wealth distribution. The Gini Index ranges from 1 to 100 and seeks to measure financial inequality in a society; a value of 100 means that a single person has all the money whilst as it declines money is more and more equally distributed.

Some interesting trends are showing up. For instance, in Latin America wealth inequality, although at a high level, is declining as a phenomenon. Crises like that seen in Argentina are working to redistribute wealth whilst in Brazil the new-found economic prosperity is becoming shared by a greater and greater proportion of society.  Africa, notably South Africa, displays disturbingly high levels of wealth concentration in the hands of a few.

Although we have a tendency to pillory ourselves here the UK, we actually come out quite well with a score of just under 26 – you would have to go to parts of Eastern Europe to find other countries with the kinds of equality that we possess. In fact, equality of wealth distribution has improved markedly between 1995 and 2010 when the latest data is available and embraces the financial crisis.

What is most disturbing though is the United States. The Gini index for the US has shown a marked and continuous increase of inequality, an effect that has been occurring since the 1970’s, and a phenomenon that has accelerated as the recovery from the financial crisis has gathered pace.

Economic commentators often talk about "the wealth effect", the confidence-boosting mental state that allows ordinary people to look at their total assets and give themselves the psychological comfort to stop hoarding money and start spending it. To this end the Federal Reserve in the US and western central banks have been complicit in propping up the stock and housing markets through ultra-accommodative monetary policies that placate the electorate through the illusion of financial affluence.  They will go about their day without necessarily calling for higher levels of taxation or the forced redistribution of wealth in the face of obvious inequalities. This has by and large worked to date but we are now entering a phase of prolonged sub-potential growth combined with rising wealth inequality in the US that will have long-range effects economically, socially and politically.

The problem arises from the fact that if you give wealthy people more money they don’t necessarily spend it – it becomes dormant and redundant. Give a poor person an extra £10 and they will spend it on food or new clothes, propelling consumption, but give an ultra-high net worth person another million pounds and more than likely it will lie in the bank largely unnoticed and more importantly unused. So in many respects the inequality of the distribution of wealth is not so much about "fairness" or venality, but more that the concentration of too much money into too few hands leads to economic stagnation adding to an already sub-par economic atmosphere.

Photograph: Getty Images

Head of Fixed Income and Macro, Old Mutual Global Investors

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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