Yale professor Jacob Hacker first used the term "predistribution" at a Policy Network conference in Oslo in 2011. Image: Dan Murrell.
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Jacob Hacker: Ed Miliband’s wonkish pin-up

Jacob Hacker thinks he has the answer to the public’s hardening attitude to welfare – we should “stop inequality before it starts”. But can the idea of predistribution enter the political mainstream?

It was at a think-tank conference in Oslo in 2011 that Jacob Hacker first used the word “predistribution” in public. Among those in the audience was Ed Miliband, whose intellectual curiosity was piqued. Predistribution – the idea that governments should seek to create more equal outcomes even before collecting taxes and paying out benefits – seemed to offer an answer to a question that was becoming increasingly insistent: what is the point of Labour when there’s very little money to spend? Those close to the Labour leader, such as his chief strategist, Stewart Wood, and the shadow chief secretary to the Treasury, Rachel Reeves, began using the word to link together policies such as the living wage, worker representation on remuneration committees and greater vocational training, and also to signal a commitment to fiscal responsibility.

Then, in September 2012, in an interview with the New Statesman and a speech to Policy Network (the organisation that had hosted Hacker in Oslo), Miliband himself presented predistribution as Labour’s “new agenda”. The derision followed swiftly. His use of the term, described by the then director of Policy Exchange, Neil O’Brien, as “the sort of stupid made-up word that only a policy wonk could love”, was presented as proof that the man who won the Labour leadership contest on a promise to “speak human” had given up on doing so. During a memorable session of Prime Minister’s Questions, David Cameron sarcastically declared: “I say that the Labour Party has no plans, but on this occasion I can reassure the House that it has, and the new plan is called predistribution. What I think that means is that we spend the money before we actually get it, which I think the Right Honourable Gentleman will find is why we are in the mess we are in right now.” Alluding to Yes Minister’s hapless Jim Hacker, he added: “His new guru, the man who invented predistribution, is called – and I am not making this up – he is called Mr J Hacker.”

When I meet Hacker at the Kingsley hotel in Holborn, central London, he reports that Miliband began their most recent meeting by offering an apology. “Ed was very funny yesterday,” the 42-year-old Yale professor of political science tells me. “He said: ‘I’m sorry if I screwed up the term for you.’ I said: ‘Are you kidding?’ I’m an academic; I’ve had one idea that’s broken into public consciousness in American political debate and that’s the public option [the proposal to set up a staterun health insurance agency] . . . I’m not used to having my ideas discussed by politicians. So I said, ‘You can talk about it as much as you want. I’m sorry if it made people think that you’re a policy wonk.’”

It was when a friend sent him a YouTube clip of Cameron’s PMQs riff that he realised the influence the term was having. “My first reaction was: ‘This is so cool!’ I am personally being attacked by the Prime Minister of Britain – what more could I ask for? My second reaction was: ‘Who is J Hacker?’ I had to go and look up the reference and now, knowing the reference, it was actually a very good joke and I can see why George Osborne was laughing so hard in the background. It made me think that British parliamentary discussions are a lot more interesting than American ones.”

He reflects, however, that it represented a missed business opportunity. “The punchline of [Cameron’s] joke was, ‘I have seen the latest book by Jacob Hacker. It’s entitled The Road to Nowhere and that’s where this idea will take us.’ And I was deeply offended by that. While I loved being attacked in the House of Commons, the fact that he said the book that I’d written as my undergraduate thesis at Harvard and was published in 1997, that that was my latest book, deeply offended me, because I could have used the free publicity for Winner-Take-All Politics [published in 2010] at the time.”

In person, Hacker is fluent and charming. Casually dressed in a corduroy blazer, beige jumper and black loafers, his brown-silver hair parted, he makes for an admittedly wonkish pin-up.

Born in 1971 and raised in the small college town of Eugene, Oregon, he says that politics was not a big part of his childhood but he felt “a deep unease during the 1980s about the direction of our nation [the United States], an unease that blossomed into more forthright progressivism when I went to Harvard as an undergraduate”. After graduating summa cum laude from Harvard in 1994, he studied for a PhD in political science at Yale, during which time The Road to Nowhere: the Genesis of President Clinton’s Plan for Health Security was published.

Winner-Take-All Politics, his most recent book, was co-written with Professor Paul Pierson of Berkeley (who supervised Stewart Wood’s doctorate while on the staff at Harvard). It is an eloquent j’accuseagainst a Washington elite that has waged a 30-year war on behalf of the rich against the rest. “Yachts are rising, but dinghies are largely staying put,” they write, adding: “There is reason to suspect that the dinghies are staying put in part because the yachts are rising.”

Hacker explains predistribution to me as “simply the idea that government makes markets, and that rather than redistributing income through benefits and transfers the first focus should be on working to make the market more equal and fair”. If he is sanguine about the mockery the concept has attracted, it is partly because most of those who derided it simultaneously conceded that he might be on to something.

Given the financial crisis and the resultant surge in the deficit, which the Office for Budget Responsibility forecasts will stand at £108bn (5.9 per cent of GDP) in 2014-2015, Labour can no longer hope to spend its way to social democracy. At the same time, the increasing public hostility to conventional welfare policies limits the scope for a strategy centred on redistribution. “In a society that grows ever more unequal, you cannot sustain the social contract simply by taking from some of the fortunate, the affluent, and redistributing to the rest of the society. It just doesn’t work politically,” Hacker says. “It doesn’t work because it creates an environment in which the middle is more likely to be resentful towards those at the bottom, who are the largest beneficiaries of public transfers, than they are towards those at the top, despite the fact that the rich are really the ones who have rigged the game.”

He is sharply critical of New Labour and the Third Way approach of “letting the market be the market and mopping up afterwards”. By tolerating the excesses of the City in the belief that its lucre could be redistributed through the tax credit system, Tony Blair and Gordon Brown created the conditions for the crash and ultimately failed to stem the rise in inequality. As Stewart Wood, who served as an adviser to Brown between 2001 and 2010, reflected when we spoke separately: “We were doing remedial work, rather than getting to the root of the things that drive unequal outcomes. Predistribution allows you to address the forces that create less efficiency and greater inequality, which often go together.”

While redistribution will remain an important part of the left’s armoury, not least for those permanently or temporarily excluded from the labour market (the retired, the unemployed, the long-term sick, the disabled), Hacker tells me that “as a society we’re more likely to create solidarity and to get what we want as social democrats and as progressives if we make redistribution as little necessary as possible. That’s why it’s important, in the simplest terms, to stop inequality before it starts.”

The question that immediately follows is: “How?” Hacker says that when he met Miliband, the first and most important thing he emphasised was “getting the macroeconomy right”. In the short term, he says, this means “keeping the door open for stimulus”, and he quips that the International Monetary Fund has “moved to the left” of Labour on this score. He warned Miliband not to repeat the mistake of Barack Obama, whose administration derived little political benefit from the US stimulus “because they did it through a payroll tax cut that most people didn’t see”.

“Politically, the problem is if it’s invisible you get no credit for it. So do something concrete, like literally something concrete – build something, put people to work building things.” Having called consistently for a temporary, similarly “invisible” cut in VAT, Ed Balls wisely signalled in his 3 June speech on the economy that the policy would be abandoned at some point in the coming year in favour of greater capital investment. It is housing, Hacker suggests, that could be the silver bullet for Labour. “If you did a serious housing investment, you could have a pretty large effect in the short to medium term, which could help a lot in rebuilding trust in whichever party implemented it.”

Though Hacker is surely right to emphasise that growth is a prerequisite for any successful centre-left project, his presentation of predistribution is frustratingly diffuse. When I challenge him to outline five distinctive policies, he cites better financial regulation, a workers’ bill of rights, stronger corporate governance, full employment, greater investment in skills and early-years education and, as a bonus, supporting a small-enterprise economy. Here is a strategically smart agenda for a post-crisis left that recognises both its ability and its duty to shape the rules of the market.

Of a workers’ bill of rights, Hacker says: “None of this involves spending. You could have a living wage requirement linked to average wages over time, a right of request for workplace flexibility and pay transparency.” He notes: “It’s a huge issue that the workers themselves don’t understand that someone who’s working right next to them, or a manager, is earning vastly more than them. And it really depresses their ability to demand higher pay. If we’re talking about a free market for labour, you need to have information on both sides.”

One of the main causes of the stagnation of British wages, which began in 2003, is the steep decline in trade union membership (from over 13 million in 1979 to 6.5 million) and collective bargaining agreements, and Hacker suggests we will require new institutions in order to protect workers’ rights. He offers the example of US open-source unions, which “use social media and new organising tactics to run campaigns to change the terms of employment”, and Germanstyle works councils, which “adjust national labour agreements to local circumstances”, as models for the UK.

But can predistribution succeed in a global economy in which companies relentlessly seek out low-wage, low-tax locations? Hacker concedes that “some form of global regulation or government would help a lot with predistributive strategies” – which suggests we could be waiting some time – but adds more encouragingly, “We should recognise that companies do not just go to low-wage, low-tax locations; they go to high productivity relative to wage locations. And with regard to taxation, it’s pretty clear that stability is more important than the level. The key is to figure out how to raise productivity and skills investment would help greatly with that.”

The UK productivity gap – the difference between our productivity and that of other countries – is at its highest level since 1993, at 21 percentage points below the G7 average. Yet while the British government has pledged to reduce corporation tax to 20 per cent in 2015 (the joint lowest in the G20), more productive economies such as the US and Japan retain corporation-tax rates of 39 per cent and 38 per cent, respectively.

In any case, as Hacker argues, “You’ve got to focus on the primarily non-traded sectors: education, health care, social care, face-toface services. There’s no global competitive reason why you can’t do that.”

Five years after the start of the greatest crisis in capitalism since the 1930s, and after the comprehensive failure of austerity, the centre left remains becalmed. In Britain and elsewhere, it is the populist right that is gaining ground as voters shun mainstream social democracy. Even so, Hacker says he is “cautiously optimistic”.

“I do think there’s this hunger for direct and simple policies to help the squeezed middle. And one thing you can say for predistribution ideas, like ‘Hey, let’s have a living wage’, is that they’re pretty straightforward to explain.” He also remarks: “The cost of organising has come down with the information revolution. You can marry simple policies with new organising strategies. That’s a pretty powerful force multiplier.”

While Miliband and his allies often speak of the potential for a Thatcheresque transformation of the economy and society, Hacker suggests greater modesty is in order. “You’re not going to get a big bang of policy change. Instead, what progressives need to do is gain office, do some important things that improve the overall situation of the squeezed middle, and then get re-elected and repeat.” If Labour is to win in 2015, Miliband will need to pull off a daunting balancing act, persuading the voters that he offers a bold alternative to the coalition and at the same time reassuring them that Labour won’t run out of other people’s money again. Though the word may rarely pass his lips now, predistribution remains his best hope of doing so.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 08 July 2013 issue of the New Statesman, The world takes sides

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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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