Balls sharpens his axe: where Labour would cut in 2015

Free schools, Police and Crime Commissioners, Titan prisons and army admirals are targeted for cuts.

There were two main aims of Ed Balls's speech on the economy today. The first was to reassure voters that while continuing to support stimulus now, Labour would pursue fiscal responsibility in office. While refusing to play George Osborne's game by saying whether he would stick to the coalition's 2015-16 spending plans ("when we do not know the economic circumstances two months ahead, let alone two years"), he emphasised that, before the election, Labour would adopt its own fiscal rules to eliminate the current deficit and reduce the national debt as share of GDP. Balls also signalled that, with growth finally returning, he would soon abandon his expensive pledge to introduce a temporary VAT cut (which Ed Miliband had such trouble defending in his infamous World At One interview) in favour of long-term capital investment. He said: 

Today, with growth prospects still very uncertain and interest rates too low to be of use, a temporary VAT cut now is still the right prescription before extra capital spending can come on stream – although any immediate tax cut which helps middle and lower income families is better than nothing. 

But over the coming year if, as we all hope, some kind of recovery does take hold, then the balance of advantage will shift from temporary tax cuts to long-term capital investment.

The second aim was to begin the task of forcing the left to accept that not only will Labour be unable to reverse most of the cuts imposed by the coalition, it will have to make its own. As Balls pointedly noted, "The next Labour government will have to plan on the basis of falling departmental spending."

The announcement that Labour would remove the winter fuel allowance from the wealthiest 5 per cent of pensioners is pretty small beer. While Ed Miliband's abandonment of universalism is politically significant (it opens the door to further benefit cuts), the move will save just £100m a year (less than half a per cent of the £207bn welfare bill), meaning that it barely qualifies as a rounding error. But Balls went on to outline, in greater detail than before, other, larger cuts and efficiency savings that a Labour government would seek to make. Since the shadow chancellor wants to give himself maximum flexibility in 2015, they were proposed in the form of questions (as was the winter fuel allowance cut) but, for now, they are the best guide we have to where Balls's axe would fall. Here's my summary:

- Not opening new free schools in areas with excess places. Balls derided "vanity schools projects" and suggested that Labour would not open new free schools in areas with a surplus of secondary school places. ("With primary school places in short supply in many parts of the country, and parents struggling to get their children into a local school, can it really be a priority to open more free schools in 2015 and 2016 in areas with excess secondary school places?")

- Scrapping Police and Crime Commissioners. ("When we are losing thousands of police officers and police staff, how have we ended up spending more on police commissioners than the old police authorities, with more elections currently timetabled for 2016?")

- Cancelling the new 2,000-place "Titan" prison recently proposed by Chris Grayling. ("Has the Ministry of Justice properly made the case for a major new 'Titan' prison, at a time when the prison population is falling?")

- Abolishing High Speed Two Limited, the company developing the new rail network. Balls suggested that this role could be performed more effectively by Network Rail ("Should we be spending millions on a separate company to deliver High Speed 2 when we already have Network Rail, which after all is responsible for rail infrastructure?")

- Cutting the number of army officers and admirals. ("Do we need more admirals than ships and more officers in our forces than our international counterparts at a time when frontline armed forces are under pressure?")

- Merging the four separate government motorist agencies. ("Do we really need four separate government agencies delivering services to motorists?")

- Combining management functions. in government departments, agencies, fire services and police forces. ("Does it really make sense to have separate costly management and bureaucracy for so many separate government departments, agencies, fire services and police forces - the same number as when this Government came into office - all with separate leadership structures and separate specialist teams?")

- Requiring industries to contribute more to the cost of regulation. ("Should industries pay a greater share of the costs of their regulators?")

The aim of these cuts and savings will be to free up funds for Labour's priorities (which Balls promised a "relentless focus" on): employment, housing, childcare, the NHS and social care. Based on his speech today, it is likely that Labour will go into the election promising to spend more than Tories in areas such as infrastructure (borrowing to invest), while giving itself the political cover to do so by adopting new fiscal rules, independently monitored by the OBR, and promising to control welfare spending (Miliband will announce his support for a cap on structural benefits, such as housing benefit, in his speech on welfare on Thursday). The defining political question is whether this will be enough to reassure a sceptical electorate, less than a third of whom believe Labour can be trusted to manage the nation's public finances, that it wouldn't "crash the car" all over again.

Ed Balls emphasised that Labour would have to plan "on the basis of falling departmental spending". Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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I can’t follow Marie Kondo's advice – even an empty Wotsits packet “sparks joy” in me

I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

I have been brooding lately on the Japanese tidying freak Marie Kondo. (I forgot her name so I typed “Japanese tidying freak” into Google, and it was a great help.) The “Japanese” bit is excusable in this context, and explains a bit, as I gather Japan is more on the case with the whole “being tidy” thing than Britain, but still.

Apart from telling us that we need to take an enormous amount of care, to the point where we perform origami when we fold our underpants, which is pretty much where she lost me, she advises us to throw away anything that does not, when you hold it, “spark joy”. Perhaps I have too much joy in my life. I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

After a while I gave up on this because I was getting a bit too happy with all the memories, so then I thought to myself, about her: “This is someone who isn’t getting laid enough,” and then I decided that was a crude and ungallant thought, and besides, who am I to wag the finger? At least if she invites someone to her bedroom no one is going to run screaming from it, as they would if I invited anyone to my boudoir. (Etym: from the French “bouder”, to sulk. How very apt in my case.) Marie Kondo – should bizarre circumstance ever conspire to bring her to the threshold – would run screaming from the Hovel before she’d even alighted the stairs from the front door.

I contemplate my bedroom. As I write, the cleaning lady is in it. To say that I have to spend half an hour cleaning out empty Wotsits packets, and indeed wotnot, before I let her in there should give you some idea of how shameful it has got. And even then I have to pay her to do so.

A girlfriend who used to be referred to often in these pages, though I think the term should be a rather less flippant one than “girlfriend”, managed to get round my natural messiness problem by inventing a game called “keep or chuck”.

She even made up a theme song for it, to the tune from the old Spiderman TV show. She would show me some object, which was not really rubbish, but usually a book (it may not surprise you to learn that it is the piles of books that cause most of the clutter here), and say, “Keep or chuck?” in the manner of a high-speed game show host. At one point I vacillated and so she then pointed at herself and said, “Keep or chuck?” I got the message.

These days the chances of a woman getting into the bedroom are remote. For one thing, you can’t just walk down the street and whistle for one much as one would hail a cab, although my daughter is often baffled by my ability to attract females, and suspects I have some kind of “mind ray”. Well, if I ever did it’s on the blink now, and not only that – right now, I’m not even particularly bothered that it’s on the blink. Because, for another thing, I would frankly not care to inflict myself upon anyone else at the moment.

It was all a bit of a giggle eight years ago, when I was wheeled out of the family home and left to my own devices. Of course, when I say “a bit of a giggle”, I mean “terrifying and miserable”, but I had rather fewer miles on the clock than I do now, and a man can, I think, get away with a little bit more scampish behaviour, and entertain a few more illusions about the future and his own plausibility as a character, when he is squarely in his mid-forties than when he is approaching, at speed, his middle fifties.

Death has rather a lot to do with it, I suppose. I had not actually seen, or touched, a dead body until I saw, and touched, my own father’s a few weeks ago. That’s what turns an abstract into a concrete reality. You finally put that to one side and gird up your loins – and then bloody David Bowie snuffs it, and you find yourself watching the videos for “Blackstar” and “Lazarus” over and over again, and reach the inescapable conclusion that death is not only incredibly unpleasant, it is also remorseless and very much nearer than you think.

And would you, dear reader, want to be involved with anyone who kept thinking along those lines? I mean, even if he learned how to fold his undercrackers into an upright cylinder, like a napkin at a fancy restaurant, before putting them in his drawer? When he doesn’t even have a drawer?

Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.

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