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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Is there such a thing as responsible betting?

Punters are encouraged to bet responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly.

I try not to watch the commercials between matches, or the studio discussions, or anything really, before or after, except for the match itself. And yet there is one person I never manage to escape properly – Ray Winstone. His cracked face, his mesmerising voice, his endlessly repeated spiel follow me across the room as I escape for the lav, the kitchen, the drinks cupboard.

I’m not sure which betting company he is shouting about, there are just so many of them, offering incredible odds and supposedly free bets. In the past six years, since the laws changed, TV betting adverts have increased by 600 per cent, all offering amazingly simple ways to lose money with just one tap on a smartphone.

The one I hate is the ad for BetVictor. The man who has been fronting it, appearing at windows or on roofs, who I assume is Victor, is just so slimy and horrible.

Betting firms are the ultimate football parasites, second in wealth only to kit manufacturers. They have perfected the capitalist’s art of using OPM (Other People’s Money). They’re not directly involved in football – say, in training or managing – yet they make millions off the back of its popularity. Many of the firms are based offshore in Gibraltar.

Football betting is not new. In the Fifties, my job every week at five o’clock was to sit beside my father’s bed, where he lay paralysed with MS, and write down the football results as they were read out on Sports Report. I had not to breathe, make silly remarks or guess the score. By the inflection in the announcer’s voice you could tell if it was an away win.

Earlier in the week I had filled in his Treble Chance on the Littlewoods pools. The “treble” part was because you had three chances: three points if the game you picked was a score draw, two for a goalless draw and one point for a home or away win. You chose eight games and had to reach 24 points, or as near as possible, then you were in the money.

“Not a damn sausage,” my father would say every week, once I’d marked and handed him back his predictions. He never did win a sausage.

Football pools began in the 1920s, the main ones being Littlewoods and Vernons, both based in Liverpool. They gave employment to thousands of bright young women who checked the results and sang in company choirs in their spare time. Each firm spent millions on advertising. In 1935, Littlewoods flew an aeroplane over London with a banner saying: Littlewoods Above All!

Postwar, they blossomed again, taking in £50m a year. The nation stopped at five on a Saturday to hear the scores, whether they were interested in football or not, hoping to get rich. BBC Sports Report began in 1948 with John Webster reading the results. James Alexander Gordon took over in 1974 – a voice soon familiar throughout the land.

These past few decades, football pools have been left behind, old-fashioned, low-tech, replaced by online betting using smartphones. The betting industry has totally rebooted itself. You can bet while the match is still on, trying to predict who will get the next goal, the next corner, the next throw-in. I made the last one up, but in theory you can bet instantly, on anything, at any time.

The soft sell is interesting. With the old football pools, we knew it was a remote flutter, hoping to make some money. Today the ads imply that betting on football somehow enhances the experience, adds to the enjoyment, involves you in the game itself, hence they show lads all together, drinking and laughing and putting on bets.

At the same time, punters are encouraged to do it responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly. Responsibly and respect are now two of the most meaningless words in the football language. People have been gambling, in some form, since the beginning, watching two raindrops drip down inside the cave, lying around in Roman bathhouses playing games. All they’ve done is to change the technology. You have to respect that.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war