Clegg slaps down Cable on borrowing

Deputy PM comes to Cameron's aid and warns that borrowing for growth would risk a spike in interest rates.

Downing Street has responded to Vince Cable's dramatic intervention in the New Statesman by seeking to paint the Business Secretary as a lone maverick and Nick Clegg has just come to their aid. On his phone-in show on LBC this morning, the Deputy PM said of Cable's call for the government to borrow for growth: 

If you do decide to say: 'to hell with it, let's borrow £40bn – £20bn' –huge amounts of money – because there is no point doing it unless you do it on a big scale – there are risks of course, and I know Vince acknowledges it, you unwittingly make it more difficult for everyone else because interest rates might then go up.

He added: "The question is not whether capital investment is a good thing – everyone in the coalition agrees that – but how do you pay for it? This is where the balance of judgment is; you need to balance the risk."

While Cable argues that the risks of borrowing to invest are now outweighed by the risks of not doing so, Clegg has stuck firmly to the Cameron-Osborne line that deficit-financed stimulus would cause a spike in interest rates. 

Clegg's intervention is helpful for Labour as well as the Tories. Team Balls responded to Cable's essay by similarly portraying the Business Secretary as an isolated figure. "His words today read like they have been written by a Secretary of State who despite being in office, is not in power," said shadow financial secretary Chris Leslie. Clegg's rebuke to Cable means Balls and Miliband can continue to argue that only Labour is offering a genuine plan B. 

Nick Clegg speaks at last year's Liberal Democrat conference in Brighton. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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Why relations between Theresa May and Philip Hammond became tense so quickly

The political imperative of controlling immigration is clashing with the economic imperative of maintaining growth. 

There is no relationship in government more important than that between the prime minister and the chancellor. When Theresa May entered No.10, she chose Philip Hammond, a dependable technocrat and long-standing ally who she had known since Oxford University. 

But relations between the pair have proved far tenser than anticipated. On Wednesday, Hammond suggested that students could be excluded from the net migration target. "We are having conversations within government about the most appropriate way to record and address net migration," he told the Treasury select committee. The Chancellor, in common with many others, has long regarded the inclusion of students as an obstacle to growth. 

The following day Hammond was publicly rebuked by No.10. "Our position on who is included in the figures has not changed, and we are categorically not reviewing whether or not students are included," a spokesman said (as I reported in advance, May believes that the public would see this move as "a fix"). 

This is not the only clash in May's first 100 days. Hammond was aggrieved by the Prime Minister's criticisms of loose monetary policy (which forced No.10 to state that it "respects the independence of the Bank of England") and is resisting tougher controls on foreign takeovers. The Chancellor has also struck a more sceptical tone on the UK's economic prospects. "It is clear to me that the British people did not vote on June 23 to become poorer," he declared in his conference speech, a signal that national prosperity must come before control of immigration. 

May and Hammond's relationship was never going to match the remarkable bond between David Cameron and George Osborne. But should relations worsen it risks becoming closer to that beween Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling. Like Hammond, Darling entered the Treasury as a calm technocrat and an ally of the PM. But the extraordinary circumstances of the financial crisis transformed him into a far more assertive figure.

In times of turmoil, there is an inevitable clash between political and economic priorities. As prime minister, Brown resisted talk of cuts for fear of the electoral consequences. But as chancellor, Darling was more concerned with the bottom line (backing a rise in VAT). By analogy, May is focused on the political imperative of controlling immigration, while Hammond is focused on the economic imperative of maintaining growth. If their relationship is to endure far tougher times they will soon need to find a middle way. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.