The battle on aid is not won: NGOs shouldn't be soft on Cameron

If a law enshrining the 0.7 per cent aid target isn't in the Queen's Speech, development charities won’t be able to have their cake and eat it.

The Guardian’s economics editor Larry Elliot has had enough. In his latest column, he takes a pop at both David Cameron and UK development charities. Britain’s Prime Minister, he argues, sees economic growth as a panacea but Cameron, he claims, "has been treated with kid gloves by most of the UK development charities."

Elliot remembers Make Poverty History, Blair, Brown and Bono with nostalgic fondness but his current pessimism is clear in his latest column. G8 countries, who are struggling to kick start their own economic growth and are imposing austerity at home, are looking jealously at the growth rates of developing countries, and are questioning why they should do more to help.
 
This is a crucial year for the global development agenda and as a global player, Cameron is key. As well as hosting the G8 summit in the UK in July, the Prime Minister is representing the G8 on the panel advising the UN on the next set of global development goals. The 'High Level Panel' that he co-chairs is due to report at the end of May and some kind of growth target looks like it is firmly on the agenda.
 
But inequality is not, and that’s mainly because of Cameron. The case for making inequality an explicit target is eloquently argued by the new head of the Overseas Development Institute, Kevin Watkins. Another of the ODI’s experts, Claire Melamed explains how difficult Cameron’s job is going to be, but she too concludes that a focus on jobs and unemployment, might be more productive than on national GDP.
 
There are two new facts in the post-Make Poverty History world: the majority of poor people no longer live in poor countries, while the majority of poor people that do live in poor countries, live in conflict affected states. Cameron seems to acknowledge the second fact but not the first. None of the conflict affected states are going to meet any of the Millennium Development Goals, something which is not lost on a Prime Minister looking for stable trading partners. The New Deal seems to have firmly established its peace-building agenda and some kind of goal in this area looks certain.
 
But a fourth agenda, highlighted this week by the launch of the State of Civil Society report, is also crucial. "The freedom from want is nothing without the freedom from fear," writes the Secretary General the global federation of civil society organisations, Civicus. His report suggests that a third of the world’s internet users have experienced restrictions on the information they can access and the social media they can use to mobilise activists and hold governments to account.
 
The new development goals are intended both to guide the investment of aid by rich countries and focus the development efforts of countries and charities alike. But as yet another ODI expert, Romilly Greenhill argued this week, the UK development community has been far more focused on the amount of aid, rather than the direction of development.
 
And yet, the battle on aid is not yet won. The Queen’s Speech is a week on Wednesday and it is the deadline set by UK NGOs leading the ‘IF’ campaign for the coalition government to commit to legislate to enshrine 0.7 per cent into domestic law. When Osborne confirmed the DfID budget, NGOs celebrated with cake, despite a historic underspend by DIFD last year. If a law on 0.7 per cent isn’t in the Queen’s Speech, the UK NGOs won’t be able to have their cake and eat it. They need to once again wield a 'stick', as well as celebrate with the 'carrot' of a cake.
 
Richard Darlington was special adviser at the Department for International Development from 2009-2010 and is now head of news at IPPR. Follow him on Twitter: @RDarlo

 

Liberian president Ellen Johnson Sirleaf and David Cameron co-chair a United Nations meeting on tackling global poverty in Monrovia on February 1, 2013. Photograph: Getty Images.

Richard Darlington is Head of News at IPPR. Follow him on Twitter @RDarlo.

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How Donald Trump is slouching towards the Republican nomination

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb.

In America, you can judge a crowd by its merchandise. Outside the Connecticut Convention Centre in Hartford, frail old men and brawny moms are selling “your Trump 45 football jerseys”, “your hats”, “your campaign buttons”. But the hottest item is a T-shirt bearing the slogan “Hillary sucks . . . but not like Monica!” and, on the back: “Trump that bitch!” Inside, beyond the checkpoint manned by the Transportation Security Administration and the secret service (“Good!” the man next to me says, when he sees the agents), is a family whose three kids, two of them girls, are wearing the Monica shirt.

Other people are content with the shirts they arrived in (“Waterboarding – baptising terrorists with freedom” and “If you don’t BLEED red, white and blue, take your bitch ass home!”). There are 80 chairs penned off for the elderly but everyone else is standing: guys in motorcycle and military gear, their arms folded; aspiring deal-makers, suited, on cellphones; giggling high-school fatsos, dressed fresh from the couch, grabbing M&M’s and Doritos from the movie-theatre-style concession stands. So many baseball hats; deep, bellicose chants of “Build the wall!” and “USA!”. (And, to the same rhythm, “Don-ald J!”)

A grizzled man in camouflage pants and combat boots, whose T-shirt – “Connecticut Militia III%” – confirms him as a member of the “patriot” movement, is talking to a zealous young girl in a short skirt, who came in dancing to “Uptown Girl”.

“Yeah, we were there for Operation American Spring,” he says. “Louis Farrakhan’s rally of hate . . .”

“And you’re a veteran?” she asks. “Thank you so much!”

Three hours will pass. A retired US marine will take the rostrum to growl, “God bless America – hoo-rah!”; “Uptown Girl” will play many more times (much like his speeches, Donald J’s playlist consists of a few items, repeated endlessly), before Trump finally looms in and asks the crowd: “Is this the greatest place on Earth?”

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb. Only a minority within a minority of Americans, it was assumed, could possibly be stupid enough to think a Trump presidency was a good idea. He won New Hampshire and South Carolina with over 30 per cent of the Republican vote, then took almost 46 per cent in Nevada. When he cleaned up on Super Tuesday in March, he was just shy of 50 per cent in Massachusetts; a week later, he took 47 per cent of the votes in Mississippi.

His rivals, who are useless individually, were meant to co-operate with each other and the national party to deny him the nomination. But Trump won four out of the five key states being contested on “Super-Duper Tuesday” on 15 March. Then, as talk turned to persuading and co-opting his delegates behind the scenes, Trump won New York with 60 per cent.

Now, the campaign is trying to present Trump as more “presidential”. According to his new manager, Paul Manafort, this requires him to appear in “more formal settings” – without, of course, diluting “the unique magic of Trump”. But whether or not he can resist denouncing the GOP and the “corrupt” primary system, and alluding to violence if he is baulked at at the convention, the new Trump will be much the same as the old.

Back in Hartford: “The Republicans wanna play cute with us, right? If I don’t make it, you’re gonna have millions of people that don’t vote for a Republican. They’re not gonna vote at all,” says Trump. “Hopefully that’s all, OK? Hopefully that’s all, but they’re very, very angry.”

This anger, which can supposedly be turned on anyone who gets in the way, has mainly been vented, so far, on the protesters who disrupt Trump’s rallies. “We’re not gonna be the dummies that lose all of our jobs now. We’re gonna be the smart ones. Oh, do you have one over there? There’s one of the dummies . . .”

There is a frenzied fluttering of Trump placards, off to his right. “Get ’em out! . . . Don’t hurt ’em – see how nice I am? . . . They really impede freedom of speech and it’s a disgrace. But the good news is, folks, it won’t be long. We’re just not taking it and it won’t be long.”

It is their removal by police, at Trump’s ostentatious behest, that causes the disruption, rather than the scarcely audible protesters. He seems to realise this, suddenly: “We should just let ’em . . . I’ll talk right over them, there’s no problem!” But it’s impossible to leave the protesters where they are, because it would not be safe. His crowd is too vicious.

Exit Trump, after exactly half an hour, inclusive of the many interruptions. His people seem uplifted but, out on the street, they are ambushed by a large counter-demonstration, with a booming drum and warlike banners and standards (“Black Lives Matter”; an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, holding aloft Trump’s severed head). Here is the rest of the world, the real American world: young people, beautiful people, more female than male, every shade of skin colour. “F*** Donald Trump!” they chant.

After a horrified split-second, the Trump crowd, massively more numerous, rallies with “USA!” and – perplexingly, since one of the main themes of the speech it has just heard was the lack of jobs in Connecticut – “Get a job!” The two sides then mingle, unobstructed by police. Slanging matches break out that seem in every instance to humiliate the Trump supporter. “Go to college!” one demands. “Man, I am in college, I’m doin’ lovely!”

There is no violence, only this: some black boys are dancing, with liquid moves, to the sound of the drum. Four young Trump guys counter by stripping to their waists and jouncing around madly, their skin greenish-yellow under the street lights, screaming about the building of the wall. There was no alcohol inside; they’re drunk on whatever it is – the elixir of fascism, the unique magic of Trump. It’s a hyper but not at all happy drunk.

As with every other moment of the Trump campaign so far, it would have been merely some grade of the cringeworthy – the embarrassing, the revolting, the pitiful – were Trump not slouching closer and closer, with each of these moments, to his nomination. 

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism