Osborne: cutting the NHS, not the deficit

Conservatives ordered to correct NHS spending claims as Osborne prepares to announce higher borrowing this year.

"I'll cut the deficit, not the NHS", declared the Conservatives' memorable poster of David Cameron at the last election. But today, as he prepares to deliver his Autumn Statement at 12:30pm, George Osborne stands accused of doing the reverse: cutting the NHS, not the deficit.

With exquisite timing, the chair of the UK Statistics Authority, Andrew Dilnot, has written to the Health Secretary, Jeremy Hunt, challenging his claim that spending on the NHS has risen in real terms "in each of the last two years". In response to a complaint from the shadow health secretary, Andy Burnham, Dilnot concludes that, contrary to recent Conservative statements, "expenditure on the NHS in real terms was lower in 2011-12 than it was in 2009-10". The most recent Treasury figures show that while real terms spending rose by 0.09 per cent between 2010-11 and 2011-12, it fell by 0.84 per cent between 2009-10 and 2010-11. In other words, Hunt is wrong to claim that the NHS has received real-terms increases "in each of the last two years".

In fairness, Dilnot rightly goes on to note that "given the small size of the changes and the uncertainties associated with them, it might also be fair to say that real terms expenditure had changed little over this period." But the point stands: the Tories promised real terms increases in NHS spending in each year of this Parliament (routinely attacking Labour and the Liberal Democrats for refusing to do the same) and they failed to deliver.

As for the deficit, Osborne will almost certainly be forced to announce that he'll miss his deficit target for this year (£119.9bn) by as much as £30bn. For the first time since the Chancellor entered No. 11, borrowing is set rise in annual terms, a significant blow to his narrative of "balancing the books". Worse, confronted by OBR forecasts showing already anaemic growth becoming even weaker, he'll likely abandon his target to have the national debt falling as a share of GDP by 2015-16 and announce that an austerity programme originally intended to last for five years (2010-2015) will now last for eight (2010-2018).

The Tories will now enter the election with debt rising as a percentage of GDP, not falling. The Chancellor is right to abandon his second fiscal rule (the first - to eliminate the structural deficit over a rolling, five-year period - is likely to be narrowly met), rather than announce even greater tightening, but he has indisputably failed on his own terms. Based on the current trend, Osborne will announce in his 2014 Autumn Statement that austerity will last for another full parliament - until 2020. To paraphrase Cameron, the bad news will keep coming.

George Osborne pictured at the launch of the Conservatives' general election campaign on 4 January 2010. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

Show Hide image

What it’s like to fall victim to the Mail Online’s aggregation machine

I recently travelled to Iraq at my own expense to write a piece about war graves. Within five hours of the story's publication by the Times, huge chunks of it appeared on Mail Online – under someone else's byline.

I recently returned from a trip to Iraq, and wrote an article for the Times on the desecration of Commonwealth war cemeteries in the southern cities of Amara and Basra. It appeared in Monday’s paper, and began:

“‘Their name liveth for evermore’, the engraving reads, but the words ring hollow. The stone on which they appear lies shattered in a foreign field that should forever be England, but patently is anything but.”

By 6am, less than five hours after the Times put it online, a remarkably similar story had appeared on Mail Online, the world’s biggest and most successful English-language website with 200 million unique visitors a month.

It began: “Despite being etched with the immortal line: ‘Their name liveth for evermore’, the truth could not be further from the sentiment for the memorials in the Commonwealth War Cemetery in Amara.”

The article ran under the byline of someone called Euan McLelland, who describes himself on his personal website as a “driven, proactive and reliable multi-media reporter”. Alas, he was not driven or proactive enough to visit Iraq himself. His story was lifted straight from mine – every fact, every quote, every observation, the only significant difference being the introduction of a few errors and some lyrical flights of fancy. McLelland’s journalistic research extended to discovering the name of a Victoria Cross winner buried in one of the cemeteries – then getting it wrong.

Within the trade, lifting quotes and other material without proper acknowledgement is called plagiarism. In the wider world it is called theft. As a freelance, I had financed my trip to Iraq (though I should eventually recoup my expenses of nearly £1,000). I had arranged a guide and transport. I had expended considerable time and energy on the travel and research, and had taken the risk of visiting a notoriously unstable country. Yet McLelland had seen fit not only to filch my work but put his name on it. In doing so, he also precluded the possibility of me selling the story to any other publication.

I’m being unfair, of course. McLelland is merely a lackey. His job is to repackage and regurgitate. He has no time to do what proper journalists do – investigate, find things out, speak to real people, check facts. As the astute media blog SubScribe pointed out, on the same day that he “exposed” the state of Iraq’s cemeteries McLelland also wrote stories about the junior doctors’ strike, British special forces fighting Isis in Iraq, a policeman’s killer enjoying supervised outings from prison, methods of teaching children to read, the development of odourless garlic, a book by Lee Rigby’s mother serialised in the rival Mirror, and Michael Gove’s warning of an immigration free-for-all if Britain brexits. That’s some workload.

Last year James King published a damning insider’s account of working at Mail Online for the website Gawker. “I saw basic journalism standards and ethics casually and routinely ignored. I saw other publications’ work lifted wholesale. I watched editors...publish information they knew to be inaccurate,” he wrote. “The Mail’s editorial model depends on little more than dishonesty, theft of copyrighted material, and sensationalism so absurd that it crosses into fabrication.”

Mail Online strenuously denied the charges, but there is plenty of evidence to support them. In 2014, for example, it was famously forced to apologise to George Clooney for publishing what the actor described as a bogus, baseless and “premeditated lie” about his future mother-in-law opposing his marriage to Amal Alamuddin.

That same year it had to pay a “sizeable amount” to a freelance journalist named Jonathan Krohn for stealing his exclusive account in the Sunday Telegraph of being besieged with the Yazidis on northern Iraq’s Mount Sinjar by Islamic State fighters. It had to compensate another freelance, Ali Kefford, for ripping off her exclusive interview for the Mirror with Sarah West, the first female commander of a Navy warship.

Incensed by the theft of my own story, I emailed Martin Clarke, publisher of Mail Online, attaching an invoice for several hundred pounds. I heard nothing, so emailed McLelland to ask if he intended to pay me for using my work. Again I heard nothing, so I posted both emails on Facebook and Twitter.

I was astonished by the support I received, especially from my fellow journalists, some of them household names, including several victims of Mail Online themselves. They clearly loathed the website and the way it tarnishes and debases their profession. “Keep pestering and shaming them till you get a response,” one urged me. Take legal action, others exhorted me. “Could a groundswell from working journalists develop into a concerted effort to stop the theft?” SubScribe asked hopefully.

Then, as pressure from social media grew, Mail Online capitulated. Scott Langham, its deputy managing editor, emailed to say it would pay my invoice – but “with no admission of liability”. He even asked if it could keep the offending article up online, only with my byline instead of McLelland’s. I declined that generous offer and demanded its removal.

When I announced my little victory on Facebook some journalistic colleagues expressed disappointment, not satisfaction. They had hoped this would be a test case, they said. They wanted Mail Online’s brand of “journalism” exposed for what it is. “I was spoiling for a long war of attrition,” one well-known television correspondent lamented. Instead, they complained, a website widely seen as the model for future online journalism had simply bought off yet another of its victims.