How do you price the priceless?

When a nation decides to count assets as well as incomes, it has to face some difficult questions.

The Financial Times has a report today on the efforts of the Treasury to publish the "whole-of-government accounts" for the first time. The usual practice for governments is to focus on income and outgoings, paying little heed to their assets and liabilities, but the fate of Greece put an end to that practice.

The problem with totting up everything a government owns is that their portfolio is rather different from that of, say, Barclays or John Lewis. They own things like Stonehenge:

Although unthinkable in practice, it would in theory be possible to price the site as if it were a business put up for sale, Mr Thurley [the head of English Heritage] admits. More than 1m people visit each year, with adults paying £7.50 each. “If we were to put Stonehenge on the market, we would probably sell it for a very large sum of money,” he says.

But applying a theme-park template would hardly have done justice to the ancient mystery of the stones, nor to English Heritage’s stewardship role. The fact that Stonehenge would have been ultimately lumped into an accounting category called “furniture, fittings and other” in the whole of government accounts would only have added insult to injury.

In the end, English Heritage kept Stonehenge and the vast majority of its treasures off the UK’s balance sheet by arguing that the cost of carrying out the valuation would have been out of all proportion to the benefits of disclosure. A similar approach has been taken by big museums and galleries, not to mention the Ministry of Defence, which declined to put a price tag on historical items such as the Enigma Machine, the second world war code-breaking device.

Thurley accepts that would be some benefits to English Heritage for valuing their less archaeological properties, since it would allow them to compare their performance against listed property management companies. It is hard to think of an acceptable use of valuing Stonehenge, though; the first chancellor to put the site up as collateral for a loan would probably be the last as well.

A real investment property; could do with some renovation. Credit: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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Theresa May’s stage-managed election campaign keeps the public at bay

Jeremy Corbyn’s approach may be chaotic, but at least it’s more authentic.

The worst part about running an election campaign for a politician? Having to meet the general public. Those ordinary folk can be a tricky lot, with their lack of regard for being on-message, and their pesky real-life concerns.

But it looks like Theresa May has decided to avoid this inconvenience altogether during this snap general election campaign, as it turns out her visit to Leeds last night was so stage-managed that she barely had to face the public.

Accusations have been whizzing around online that at a campaign event at the Shine building in Leeds, the Prime Minister spoke to a room full of guests invited by the party, rather than local people or people who work in the building’s office space.

The Telegraph’s Chris Hope tweeted a picture of the room in which May was addressing her audience yesterday evening a little before 7pm. He pointed out that, being in Leeds, she was in “Labour territory”:

But a few locals who spied this picture online claimed that the audience did not look like who you’d expect to see congregated at Shine – a grade II-listed Victorian school that has been renovated into a community project housing office space and meeting rooms.

“Ask why she didn’t meet any of the people at the business who work in that beautiful building. Everyone there was an invite-only Tory,” tweeted Rik Kendell, a Leeds-based developer and designer who says he works in the Shine building. “She didn’t arrive until we’d all left for the day. Everyone in the building past 6pm was invite-only . . . They seemed to seek out the most clinical corner for their PR photos. Such a beautiful building to work in.”

Other tweeters also found the snapshot jarring:

Shine’s founders have pointed out that they didn’t host or invite Theresa May – rather the party hired out the space for a private event: “All visitors pay for meeting space in Shine and we do not seek out, bid for, or otherwise host any political parties,” wrote managing director Dawn O'Keefe. The guestlist was not down to Shine, but to the Tory party.

The audience consisted of journalists and around 150 Tory activists, according to the Guardian. This was instead of employees from the 16 offices housed in the building. I have asked the Conservative Party for clarification of who was in the audience and whether it was invite-only and am awaiting its response.

Jeremy Corbyn accused May of “hiding from the public”, and local Labour MP Richard Burgon commented that, “like a medieval monarch, she simply briefly relocated her travelling court of admirers to town and then moved on without so much as a nod to the people she considers to be her lowly subjects”.

But it doesn’t look like the Tories’ painstaking stage-management is a fool-proof plan. Having uniform audiences of the party faithful on the campaign trail seems to be confusing the Prime Minister somewhat. During a visit to a (rather sparsely populated) factory in Clay Cross, Derbyshire, yesterday, she appeared to forget where exactly on the campaign trail she was:

The management of Corbyn’s campaign has also resulted in gaffes – but for opposite reasons. A slightly more chaotic approach has led to him facing the wrong way, with his back to the cameras.

Corbyn’s blunder is born out of his instinct to address the crowd rather than the cameras – May’s problem is the other way round. Both, however, seem far more comfortable talking to the party faithful, even if they are venturing out of safe seat territory.

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.

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