Talk is cheap: why the gap between rhetoric and reality in the coalition’s infrastructure policy matters

Ministers should not be under any illusion that public spending on high carbon projects offers a quick economic fix.

Amid all the headlines about the biggest programme of road building for 40 years and announcements of new support for fracking, you would be forgiven for thinking that the recent Comprehensive Spending Review meant an abandonment of plans to decarbonise Britain’s economy. Thankfully, that’s not what our analysis of the Treasury’s own numbers shows as the plans for upgrading Britain’s infrastructure still remain focussed on public transport and renewable energy. However, there are major contradictions at the heart of the government’s policy, which risk deterring the very private sector investors who are needed to implement many of these projects.

There is a marked contrast between the government’s approaches to its fiscal and environmental responsibilities. They happen to be compatible principles but they need to be seen in perspective. Our children will care more about the state of the physical world they will occupy as adults than whether they inherit government debt of 80 rather than 90 per cent of GDP. Yet the government appears to focus all its visible efforts on the fiscal front, like a first world war general celebrating every tiny advance, irrespective of the huge sacrifices made. Meanwhile, on the environmental front, quiet progress has been made with decarbonising our energy system in recent years. Further huge strides can be made by pressing ahead with long standing plans for renewables and public transport.

There is also a contradiction in the promotion of private rather than public sector activities. When it comes to jobs, the government champions the ability of Britain’s private sector to create new jobs to offset those lost in the public sector and trusts in its ability to carry on doing this. Yet when it comes to infrastructure, it celebrates public spending on roads planned for the next parliament more than ongoing private investment in renewable energy.

The disconnection between rhetoric and reality can be seen clearly when you look at the plans for both public and private investment. The Comprehensive Spending Review heralded £20bn of public money for roads between 2015-2020, yet that is only about half of the planned spending on the railways of £38bn. The contrast for private sector investments in energy is even more striking. According to data gathered by the Treasury for its infrastructure pipeline, there are plans for around £10bn of gas related projects between 2015-2020. By contrast, there are plans for four times this investment in offshore wind, which could see an injection of £39bn by the private sector.

Some might think it doesn’t matter what politicians say, as long as the right plans are in place, but this overlooks the role of political leadership in shaping private sector expectations. As most of our low-carbon infrastructure will be delivered by the private sector, investor confidence is vital if these projects are to go ahead. However, confidence in the UK’s low carbon direction has fallen dramatically because of the perception that the coalition is divided on decarbonisation. As a result, investors have been delaying financial decisions, or expecting higher returns on their investments to cover risks. Indeed, the 50 per cent fall in new orders for infrastructure in the first quarter of this year serves as an early warning of the danger that the ambitious plans might not come to fruition.

This uncertainty is unnecessary and damaging. It comes at a time when Britain desperately needs sustained economic growth, supported by productive infrastructure that helps to rebalance the economy away from consumption.  This is the only way the government will be able to make good on its promise to restore the public finances.  The sheer scale of existing plans for low carbon infrastructure projects, means that they offer the fastest route to boosting growth. Conversely, cancelling these projects would leave a major hole in our investment plans and risk knocking us back into recession.

Some ministers have a tendency talk up high carbon infrastructure, perhaps hoping to protect themselves against criticism from climate sceptics or other opponents of renewable energy policy. But they should not be under any illusion that public spending on high carbon projects offers a quick economic fix. The government’s own numbers show the opposite as the majority of the UK’s infrastructure activity is clean and low carbon. Boasting about spending public money on roads, whilst sounding lukewarm on private investment in renewables, endangers both our economic recovery and our low-carbon future.

Julian Morgan is the chief economist for Green Alliance

George Osborne. Photograph: Getty Images
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One Day Without Us reveals the spectre of Britain without immigration

Imagine a country without its NHS workers, its artists and even its consumers. That's why immigrants are striking today. 

What’s the best way of making yourself heard in politics? Protesting in the street, or contacting the media? Writing to politicians? A badge?

One option, of course, is to walk out - and give people a chance to recognise what they’d be missing if you weren’t there. In the labour movement, that’s long been an option – a last-case option, but an option nevertheless – when your contribution isn't being recognised.

A strike is a tit-for-tat negotiation and a warning shot. “I’ll work properly when you employ me properly”, it says, but simultaneously: “Here’s what you’d lose if I stopped”. Done right, the worker’s absence can shift the power balance in their favour.

Normally, people strike according to their role, in pursuit of certain conditions – the tube strikes, or last year’s teacher's strike.

Yet there is also a long and rich history of walk-outs whose terms are broader and boundaries hazier. One of the most famous is surely the 1975 Women's Strike, in Iceland, during which 90 per cent of the country's women refused to participate in either paid or unpaid work.

In 2016, the formula was repeated in Poland, where women went on strike to protest against a draconian change being proposed to the country's already-strict abortion laws. (It worked.)

Immigrant strikes, too, have a history. In 2006, for instance, a coalition of Los Angeles Catholic groups, unions and immigration reform groups proposed a boycott in opposition to a bill which, among other things, called for new border security fences to be built between America and Mexico. (Ahem.)

The action grew to become a national event, and on May 1, the “Great American Boycott” took place, with immigrants from Latin America and elsewhere leaving work, skipping school and refusing to buy or sell goods.

Now, with Donald Trump in the White House and Brexit looming, some have decided it’s time for another strike. Enter “One Day Without Us”.

Today, immigrants here in Britain will strike not for pay conditions or holiday allowances, but for basic recognition and respect. Across the country, businesses will close and immigrants will leave work, many of them to take place in alternative actions like rallies or letter-writing campaigns.

The name of the protest pulls no punches. This, it says, is what it would be like if we all went away. (Subtext: “like some of you want”.)

Because – and let’s be honest here – it’d be bad. In hospital this summer, I was treated by migrants. After 24 hours in NHS, I took a count, and found that only about one in five of the staff who had treated me were identifiably English. Around 4.6 per cent of NHS staff nationally are from the EU, including 9 per cent of doctors. Immigrants clean buildings, make our food, and provide a whole host of other vital services.

One Day Without Us, then, could do Britain a huge favour - it provides us with a quick preview function before anyone ups and leaves for good, taking the heart of our health service, or our food supplies, with them.

In recognition of this, some businesses are actively giving their workers the day off. One 36-year-old owner of a support services company, for instance, is giving her staff a paid holiday.

“Not all my colleagues are taking up the offer not to come in”, she explained. “Some, both British and foreign-born, would prefer to work. That’s fine, I wanted to give colleagues the freedom to choose.

 “It will cause some inconvenience and I’ve had to explain to clients why we aren’t offering all our services for one day, but I feel doing this is the only way to show how much this country relies on migrants. I may be a businesswoman, but I’m a human being first, and it hurts my heart to see how foreign-born colleagues are being treated by some people in the current political climate."

The woman, whose staff is 65 per cent foreign born, has asked her company not to be identified. She’s heard her staff being abused for speaking Polish.

Of course, not everyone is able to walk out of work. I write this from Chicago, Illinois, where last week activists participated in an American predecessor to One Day Without Us called “Day Without Immigrants”. Type “Day Without Immigrants" into Google followed by the word "Chicago" and you will find reports of restaurants closing down and citizens marching together through the city.

But search for just "Day Without Immigrants", and the top stories are all about participants being fired.

One Day Without Us, then, encourages any form of engagement. From human chains to sessions during which participants can write to their MP, these events allow immigrants, and supporters, to make themselves known across the country.

Businesses and museums, too, are involved. The Tate, for instance, is offering free tours showing visitors artworks created or influenced by migrants, showing Londoners which of the paintings that they’ve seen a dozen times only exist because of immigration.

Because paintings, like people, come from everywhere, whether or not you remember. Britain is a mongrel country, and so its art and culture are as mongrel as its workforce: a persistent thread through the country’s history.

We risk a lot forgetting this. At its best, assimilation provides a way of integrating without forgetting one’s own unique identity. In a world where immigrants risk threats or violence, however, invisibility can be the best option. For some, it is better not to be recognized as an immigrant than be abused as one.

Those of us who don’t risk threats have a duty to recognise this. I dislike the glibness of “we are all migrants” – maybe, technically, but we’re not all getting slurs shouted at us in the high street, are we? Still, I also don’t like anyone forgetting the fact that their existence, in all probably, is contingent on someone once being given clemency in a place that was their own. The movement of people is woven into the fabric of society.

Of course, it is impossible to say how successful One Day Without Us will be, or how many people’s lives will be directly affected. But I hope that, even as a gesture, it works: that people think of what would be missing from their lives without immigration.

We ignore it at our peril.

You can view all the One Day Without Us events on the organisers’ website, or contribute to a fund to support businesses which are closing for the day here.

Stephanie Boland is digital assistant at the New Statesman. She tweets at @stephanieboland