Labour needs to go much further on fiscal responsibility

The party should publish a series of potential fiscal rules for discussion and replace the VAT cut with a stimulus based on growth-raising capital investment.

Labour has made a start on re-establishing its fiscal credibility but it now must go further than any opposition has done previously – and soon. Recent announcements on fiscal responsibility and welfare reform were pivotal. Having accepted that it can’t simply oppose, Labour is now free to advocate a political approach that is genuinely different to that of the Tories – placing the pursuit of social justice, greater employment, pay and growth at the heart of a fiscally responsible agenda.

When a paper called In the Black Labour was published by Policy Network at the end of December 2011, there was a storm in the Labour teacup. The party started to move towards a fiscally conservative stance but that was soon reversed under some political pressure. Many critics accused the paper of adopting George Osborne’s fiscal and economic stance. This was strange given that Osborne’s strategy of austerity before growth wasn’t fiscal conservatism, but fiscal-self harm which has led to a series of missed deficit targets.

Having resumed the path to a fiscally responsible policy 18 months later, Labour now needs to go further. To ensure fiscal responsibility, while preserving counter-cyclical flexibility, Labour should publish a series of potential fiscal rules for discussion in the expert community, identify preferred public expenditure pathways under different growth scenarios and have these tested independently. Any stimulus would need to be focused on growth-raising capital spend. Therefore, questions should be asked about a stimulus based on a VAT cut, even if temporary in nature. Labour should consider dropping this policy – and soon.

In government, these choices should be monitored by a strengthened Office for Budget Responsibility, or Fiscal Council, who would assess whether government is likely to deliver on its fiscal rules, and to make recommendations if the targets are missed. These proposals mean Labour opening its plans to greater scrutiny at an early stage than any opposition has done before, while still allowing room for manoeuvre should growth hasten or slow. Such scrutiny will make it clear how little money there is, so spare resources must be focused on generating growth through capital investment, helping the unemployed into work, encouraging business investment, and promoting science, education and skills.

Shifting from short-term expenditure to long-term investment and developing sound fiscal rules to ensure sustainable debt levels will be useful tools to help deliver a reduction in debt. However, these measures alone will not be enough to advance social justice in an era of limited budgets.

It also poses questions for welfare policy. Housing has attracted particular attention but the challenge of containing housing benefit budgets is far wider. Yes, more houses are needed but incomes for the most vulnerable, in-work support for those with disabilities and high impact job brokerage, like that seen in Newham, are also required. It is in providing all these supports and services that welfare spending should be focused. None of this will be revolutionary but it will make a measurable difference – the politics of austerity are harder. Spending elsewhere, for example on support for the better off and on above-inflation pension commitments, will have to be reduced.

This also raises the question of tax revenue. From a purely fiscally conservative perspective, the mixture of tax rises and spending cuts is broadly irrelevant (despite fervent academic debates about this issue), so long as deficits are reduced. From the point of view of social justice, however, trying to deliver 80 per cent of deficit reduction from cuts would involve an unacceptable breach of our national social fabric and would, in all likelihood, prove counter-productive. If people are therefore going to be asked to pay more tax it becomes even more important to be open about constraints and choices at an early stage – consent must be earned. The radical realisation among the more savvy on the centre-left is that spending is no longer the shortcut to social justice that it once seemed.

The state still has significant levers. For example, we live in an economy populated by almost 5 million businesses – a 40 per cent increase in only a decade and a six-fold increase since the 1970s. The vast majority of these businesses are sole traders or micro-enterprises. Many are challenging the way big businesses operate with innovative approaches; many bring benefits to their communities that many larger operations struggle to emulate,  not least keeping the wealth they generate local. Yet big business enjoys all sorts of advantages over smaller business, including access to legal action, patent restrictions, expensive regulatory constraints, access to prime space, favour by government procurement and planning law.

Challenging the bias in favour of big business would help release the spirit of entrepreneurial activity in communities across the UK that would not just drive growth and innovation but allow a fairer distribution of wealth.

Labour could place itself firmly on the side of these millions of worker-businesses committed to creating as level a playing field as possible through planning reform, tax changes, access to intellectual property, finance, international markets and marketing support.

If Labour aims to focus resources on supporting growth, putting the economy on a sustainable long term footing and fulfilling the left’s mission of being on the side of the many, not the few, then social justice, economic efficiency and, indeed, fiscal conservatism will go hand-in-hand. The choices are hard, the solutions tougher, but that is the nature of pursuing social justice in fiscally and economically constrained times. It’s better to start early. Labour has now done that but it’s only a start.

Hopi Sen and Anthony Painter have co-written Moving Labour into the Black published by Policy Network with Adam Lent

Ed Miliband and Ed Balls at the Labour conference in Manchester last year. Photograph: Getty Images.

Hopi Sen is a former head of campaigns at the Parliamentary Labour Party and blogs at www.hopisen.com

Anthony Painter is a political writer, commentator and researcher. His new book Left Without A Future? is published in July

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Love a good box set? Then you should watch the Snooker World Championships

The game relies on a steady arm, which relies on a steady nerve. The result is a slow creeping tension needs time and space to be properly enjoyed and endured. 

People are lazy and people are impatient. This has always been so – just ask Moses or his rock – but as illustrated by kindly old Yahweh, in those days they could not simply answer those impulses and stroll on.

Nowadays, that is no longer so. Twitter, YouTube and listicles reflect a desire for complex and involved issues, expansive and nuanced sports – what we might term quality – to be condensed into easily digestible morsels for effort-free enjoyment.

There is, though, one notable exception to this trend: the box set. Pursuing a novelistic, literary sensibility, it credits its audience with the power of sentience and tells riveting stories slowly, unfolding things in whichever manner that it is best for them to unfold.

In the first episode of the first series of The Sopranos, we hear Tony demean his wife Carmela's irritation with him via the phrase “always with the drama”; in the seventh episode of the first series we see his mother do likewise to his father; and in the 21st and final episode of the sixth and final series, his son uses it on Carmela. It is precisely this richness and this care that makes The Sopranos not only the finest TV show ever made, but the finest artefact that contemporary society has to offer. It forces us to think, try and feel.

We have two principal methods of consuming art of this ilk - weekly episode, or week-long binge. The former allows for anticipation and contemplation, worthy pursuits both, but of an entirely different order to the immersion and obsession offered by the latter. Who, when watching the Wire, didn’t find themselves agreeing that trudat, it's time to reup the dishwasher salt, but we’ve run out, ain’t no thing. Losing yourself in another world is rare, likewise excitement at where your mind is going next.

In a sporting context, this can only be achieved via World Championship snooker. Because snooker is a simple, repetitive game, it is absorbing very quickly, its run of play faithfully reflected by the score.

But the Worlds are special. The first round is played over ten frames – as many as the final in the next most prestigious competition – and rather than the usual week, it lasts for 17 magical days, from morning until night. This bestows upon us the opportunity to, figuratively at least, put away our lives and concentrate. Of course, work and family still exist, but only in the context of the snooker and without anything like the same intensity. There is no joy on earth like watching the BBC’s shot of the championship compilation to discover that not only did you see most of them live, but that you have successfully predicted the shortlist.

It is true that people competing at anything provides compelling drama, emotion, pathos and bathos - the Olympics proves this every four years. But there is something uniquely nourishing about longform snooker, which is why it has sustained for decades without significant alteration.

The game relies on a steady arm, which relies on a steady nerve. The result is a slow creeping tension needs time and space to be properly enjoyed and endured. Most frequently, snooker is grouped with darts as a non-athletic sport, instead testing fine motor skills and the ability to calculate angles, velocity and forthcoming shots. However, its tempo and depth is more similar to Test cricket – except snooker trusts so much in its magnificence that it refuses to compromise the values which underpin it.

Alfred Hitchcock once explained that if two people are talking and a bomb explodes without warning, it constitutes surprise; but if two people are talking and all the while a ticking bomb is visible under the table, it constitutes suspense. “In these conditions,” he said, “The same innocuous conversation becomes fascinating because the public is participating in the scene. The audience is longing to warn the characters on the screen: ‘You shouldn't be talking about such trivial matters. There is a bomb beneath you and it is about to explode!’”

Such is snooker. In more or less every break, there will at some point be at least one difficult shot, loss of position or bad contact – and there will always be pressure. Add to that the broken flow of things – time spent waiting for the balls to stop, time spent prowling around the table, time spent sizing up the table, time spent cleaning the white, time spent waiting for a turn – and the ability for things to go wrong is constantly in contemplation.

All the more so in Sheffield’s Crucible Theatre. This venue, in its 40th year of hosting the competition, is elemental to its success. Place is crucial to storytelling, and even the word “Crucible” – whether “a ceramic or metal container in which metals or other substances may be melted or subjected to very high temperatures,” “a situation of severe trial”, or Arthur Miller’s searing play – conjures images of destruction, injustice and nakedness. And the actual Crucible is perhaps the most atmospheric arena in sport - intimate, quiet, and home to a legendarily knowledgeable audience, able to calculate when a player has secured a frame simply by listening to commentary through an earpiece and applauding as soon as the information is communicated to them.

To temper the stress, snooker is also something incredibly comforting. This is partly rooted in its scheduling. Working day and late-night sport is illicit and conspiratorial, while its presence in revision season has entire cohorts committing to “just one more quick frame”, and “just one more quick spliff”. But most powerfully of all, world championship snooker triggers memory and nostalgia, a rare example of something that hasn’t changed, as captivating now as it was in childhood.

This wistfulness is complemented by sensory pleasure of the lushest order. The colours of both baize and balls are the brightest, most engaging iterations imaginable, while the click of cue on ball, the clunk of ball on ball and the clack of ball on pocket is deep and musical; omnipresent and predictable, they combine for a soundtrack that one might play to a baby in the womb, instead of whale music or Megadeth.

Repeating rhythms are also set by the commentators, former players of many years standing. As is natural with extended coverage of repetitive-action games, there are numerous phrases that recur:

“We all love these tactical frames, but the players are so good nowadays that one mistake and your opponent’s in, so here he is, looking to win the frame at one visit ... and it’s there, right in the heart of the pocket for frame and match! But where’s the cue ball going! it really is amazing what can happen in the game of snooker, especially when we’re down to this one-table situation.”

But as omniscient narrators, the same men also provide actual insight, alerting us to options and eventualities of which we would otherwise be ignorant. Snooker is a simple game but geometry and physics are complicated, so an expert eye is required to explain them intelligibly; it is done with a winning combination of levity and sincerity.

The only essential way in which snooker is different is the standard of play. The first round of this year’s draw featured eight past winners, only two of whom have made it to the last four, and there were three second-round games that were plausible finals.

And just as literary fiction is as much about character as plot, so too is snooker. Nothing makes you feel you know someone like studying them over years at moments of elation and desolation, pressure and release, punctuated by TV confessions of guilty pleasures, such as foot massages, and bucket list contents, such as naked bungee jumping.

It is probably true that there are not as many “characters” in the game as once there were, but there are just as many characters, all of whom are part of that tradition. And because players play throughout their adult life, able to establish their personalities, in unforgiving close-up, over a number of years, they need not be bombastic to tell compelling stories, growing and undergoing change in the same way as Dorothea Brooke or Paulie Gualtieri.

Of no one is this more evident that Ding Junhui, runner-up last year and current semi-finalist this; though he is only 30, we have been watching him almost half his life. In 2007, he reached the final of the Masters tournament, in which he faced Ronnie O’Sullivan, the most naturally talented player ever to pick up a cue – TMNTPETPUAC for short. The crowd were, to be charitable, being boisterous, and to be honest, being pricks, and at the same time, O’Sullivan was playing monumentally well. So at the mid-session interval, Ding left the arena in tears and O’Sullivan took his arm in consolation; then when Ding beat O’Sullivan in this year’s quarter-final, he rested his head on O’Sullivan’s shoulder and exchanged words of encouragement for words of respect. It was beautiful, it was particular, and it was snooker.

Currently, Ding trails Mark Selby, the “Jester from Leicester” – a lucky escape, considering other rhyming nouns - in their best of 33 encounter. Given a champion poised to move from defending to dominant, the likelihood is that Ding will remain the best player never to win the game’s biggest prize for another year.

Meanwhile, the other semi-final pits Barry Hawkins, a finalist in 2013, against John Higgins, an undisputed great and three-time champion. Higgins looks likely to progress, and though whoever wins through will be an outsider, both are eminently capable of taking the title. Which is to say that, this weekend, Planet Earth has no entertainment more thrilling, challenging and enriching than events at the Crucible Theatre, Sheffield.

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