What Peter Oborne doesn’t get

Maybe Oborne didn’t notice that the whole basis for the Chancellor’s economic strategy – stemming from work by Carmen Reinhart and Kenneth Rogoff – has been shown to be ruined by spreadsheet errors.

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‘‘Economics in the end trumps politics,” said Peter Oborne on Newsnight in his infamous 2011 “that idiot in Brussels” interview. At the time, Jeremy Paxman accused him of being gratuitously offensive – and it seems to be his modus operandi. The mouthy buffoon (MB) was similarly offensive again the other day in a delusional Telegraph column, “The left talks gibberish while David Cameron racks up successes”, in which he argued that after three years the Tory-Lib Dem coalition’s daring reforms are “starting to pay dividends”. No mention, naturally, of the 50-odd U-turns such as the pasty tax, the joint strike fighter and minimum alcohol pricing.
 
The MB accused me of being a “cod-Keynesian”, which is rather surprising, given that I’ve never expressed any view whatsoever about the fishing industry.
 
Let’s plaice his comments in context. The MB apparently spoke with Tony Travers, who, he argued, is from the “respectable” part of the London School of Economics, even though he is not a member of the permanent faculty. I am wondering whether he thinks my distinguished friends Tim Besley, John Van Reenen, the Nobel laureate Christopher Pissarides, Nick Stern and John Hills are from the “respectable” bit. Or Richard Layard, or David Metcalf?
 
Let’s go through a couple of other bits of nonsense. First: “. . . the government’s audacious and thoughtful strategy for economic and social reform is holding up very well”. You could have fooled me. Unemployment is 2.5 million and still rising – the last six monthly observations were 7.8 per cent, 8.1 per cent, 8.0 per cent, 7.4 per cent, 8.0 per cent and 8.0 per cent, and the employment rate is falling. Youth unemployment is still around a million, long-term unemployment is rising and real wages continue to fall. “Thoughtful” the strategy is not. Indeed, it is hard to find a single economist who supports it.
 
Maybe Oborne didn’t notice that the whole basis for the Chancellor’s economic strategy – stemming from work by Carmen Reinhart and Kenneth Rogoff – has been shown to be ruined by spreadsheet errors. Recall that in 2010 the Chancellor argued in his Mais Lecture that: “The latest research suggests that once debt reaches more than about 90 per cent of GDP, the risks of a large negative impact on long-term growth become highly significant.” We now know it doesn’t.
 
The underlying picture for the public finances is one of stalled progress in deficit reduction. As the independent consultancy Capital Economics notes, “stripping out various temporary factors, the fiscal position remains fragile”.
 
Then there’s this from Oborne: “Economic growth, though weak, has not been entirely extinguished in a weak international environment. Anyone who predicted such an outcome three years ago would have been labelled mad.”
 
In his Budget statement of 22 June 2010 the Chancellor said as follows: “Growth in the UK economy for the coming five years is estimated to be: 1.2 per cent this year and 2.3 per cent next year; then 2.8 per cent in 2012 followed by 2.9 per cent in 2013.” We got 1.7 per cent, then 1.1 per cent and 0.2 per cent and perhaps 1 per cent for 2013. Great success – growth was a quarter of what was predicted by the coalition.
 
Oborne is right about one thing: economics in the end trumps politics. Given the worst lack of recovery in a century, the only sensible conclusion is that Cameron has established a track record of economic failure. No dividends.
 
David Blanchflower is the New Statesman’s economics editor 
George Osborne. Photograph: Getty Images

David Blanchflower is economics editor of the New Statesman and professor of economics at Dartmouth College, New Hampshire

This article first appeared in the 29 July 2013 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double Issue

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The decline of the north's sporting powerhouse

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Now, things are different.

On a drive between Sheffield and Barnsley, I spotted a striking painting of the Kes poster. Billy Casper’s two-fingered salute covered the wall of a once-popular pub that is now boarded up.

It is almost 50 years since the late Barry Hines wrote A Kestrel for a Knave, the novel that inspired Ken Loach’s 1969 film, and it seems that the defiant, us-against-the-world, stick-it-to-the-man Yorkshireness he commemorated still resonates here. Almost two-thirds of the people of south Yorkshire voted to leave the EU, flicking two fingers up at what they saw as a London-based establishment, detached from life beyond the capital.

But whatever happened to Billy the unlikely lad, and the myriad other northern characters who were once the stars of stage and screen? Like the pitheads that dominated Casper’s tightly knit neighbourhood, they have disappeared from the landscape. The rot set in during the 1980s, when industries were destroyed and communities collapsed, a point eloquently made in Melvyn Bragg’s excellent radio series The Matter of the North.

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Yet today, we rarely get to hear the voices of Barnsley, Sheffield, Doncaster and Rotherham. And the Yorkshire sporting powerhouse is no more – at least, not as we once knew it.

This should be a matter of national concern. The White Rose county is, after all, the home of the world’s oldest registered football club – Sheffield FC, formed in 1857 – and the first English team to win three successive League titles, Huddersfield Town, in the mid-1920s. Hull City are now Yorkshire’s lone representative in the Premier League.

Howard Wilkinson, the manager of Leeds United when they were crowned champions in 1992, the season before the Premier League was founded, lamented the passing of a less money-obsessed era. “My dad worked at Orgreave,” he said, “the scene of Mrs Thatcher’s greatest hour, bless her. You paid for putting an axe through what is a very strong culture of community and joint responsibility.”

The best-known scene in Loach’s film shows a football match in which Mr Sugden, the PE teacher, played by Brian Glover, comically assumes the role of Bobby Charlton. It was played out on the muddy school fields of Barnsley’s run-down Athersley estate. On a visit to his alma mater a few years ago, David Bradley, who played the scrawny 15-year-old Billy, showed me the goalposts that he had swung from as a reluctant goalkeeper. “You can still see the dint in the crossbar,” he said. When I spoke to him recently, Bradley enthused about his lifelong support for Barnsley FC. “But I’ve not been to the ground over the last season and a half,” he said. “I can’t afford it.”

Bradley is not alone. Many long-standing fans have been priced out. Barnsley is only a Championship side, but for their home encounter with Newcastle last October, their fans had to pay £30 for a ticket.

The English game is rooted in the northern, working-class communities that have borne the brunt of austerity over the past six years. The top leagues – like the EU – are perceived to be out of touch and skewed in favour of the moneyed elites.

Bradley, an ardent Remainer, despaired after the Brexit vote. “They did not know what they were doing. But I can understand why. There’s still a lot of neglect, a lot of deprivation in parts of Barnsley. They feel left behind because they have been left behind.”

It is true that there has been a feel-good factor in Yorkshire following the Rio Olympics; if the county were a country, it would have finished 17th in the international medals table. Yet while millions have been invested in “podium-level athletes”, in the team games that are most relevant to the lives of most Yorkshire folk – football, cricket and rugby league – there is a clear division between sport’s elites and its grass roots. While lucrative TV deals have enriched ruling bodies and top clubs, there has been a large decrease in the number of adults playing any sport in the four years since London staged the Games.

According to figures from Sport England, there are now 67,000 fewer people in Yorkshire involved in sport than there were in 2012. In Doncaster, to take a typical post-industrial White Rose town, there has been a 13 per cent drop in participation – compared with a 0.4 per cent decline nationally.

Attendances at rugby league, the region’s “national sport”, are falling. But cricket, in theory, is thriving, with Yorkshire winning the County Championship in 2014 and 2015. Yet Joe Root, the batsman and poster boy for this renaissance, plays far more games for his country than for his county and was rested from Yorkshire’s 2016 title decider against Middlesex.

“Root’s almost not a Yorkshire player nowadays,” said Stuart Rayner, whose book The War of the White Roses chronicles the club’s fortunes between 1968 and 1986. As a fan back then, I frequently watched Geoffrey Boycott and other local stars at Headingley. My favourite was the England bowler Chris Old, a gritty, defiant, unsung anti-hero in the Billy Casper mould.

When Old made his debut, 13 of the 17-strong Yorkshire squad were registered as working-class professionals. Half a century later, three of the five Yorkshiremen selec­ted for the last Ashes series – Root, Jonny Bairstow and Gary Ballance – were privately educated. “The game of cricket now is played in public schools,” Old told me. “Top players are getting huge amounts of money, but the grass-roots game doesn’t seem to have benefited in any way.”

“In ten years’ time you won’t get a Joe Root,” Rayner said. “If you haven’t seen these top Yorkshire cricketers playing in your backyard and you haven’t got Sky, it will be difficult to get the whole cricket bug. So where is the next generation of Roots going to come from?” Or the next generation of Jessica Ennis-Hills? Three years ago, the Sheffield stadium where she trained and first discovered athletics was closed after cuts to local services.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era