The strange non-death of George Osborne

After leaving the political sick ward, the Chancellor is again being spoken of as a possible successor to Cameron.

This is an extended version of a piece in this week's New Statesman.

A year ago, George Osborne stood before his party's conference as a man fighting for his political life. The "“steady and sustained”" economic recovery he promised in 2010 had become a double-dip recession, and the Budget, with its tactless raids on pasties, pensioners, charities and churches, had destroyed his reputation as a strategic grandmaster. Conservative MPs privately joked that Osborne, the Tories’' chief election strategist, was a "“part-time Chancellor"” who “"wasn'’t good at either of his jobs"”. By 2013, they had signalled their intention to oust him if the economy failed to show signs of recovery by the time of the local elections. 
 
But when Osborne addressed Conservative delegates in Manchester on 30 September he did so as a politician reborn. The man who seemed destined to take the blame for Tory failure now seemed poised to take the credit for Tory success. With the possible exception of Nick Clegg, no other figure has enjoyed such a revival of fortunes.
 
Economic recovery was the prerequisite for Osborne’s political recovery. Having once appeared in danger of suffering a triple-dip recession, the economy is now expanding at its fastest rate in three years, while, courtesy of revisions by the Office for National Statistics, the double-dip has been erased from history. The Chancellor’'s Keynesian critics rightly protest that the economy is still 2.9% below its pre-recession peak (the US, by comparison, is 4.5% above) but in politics, trajectory is everything. Osborne began his speech by observing, “"At every party conference since the election, as we have gathered, the question for us. The question for me, the question for our country, has been: ‘is your economic plan working?’ They'’re not asking that question now.”" After three years of stagnation, he has been the beneficiary of low expectations. 
 
But growth alone does not explain his resurrection. Osborne has also fought back by displaying the political cunning that many Tories feared he had lost. His decision to hold an early Spending Review, outlining cuts for 2015-16, proved to be a masterstroke. It forced Labour onto his territory by prompting Ed Balls to concede that he would match Osborne'’s day-to-day spending limits and liberated the Tories to shift their emphasis from austerity to recovery. With more than a year-and-a-half to go until the general election, Osborne is not required to announce any further tax rises or spending cuts.
 
If the Chancellor has secured credit for the recovery, it is also because he has been seen to do so. Once known in Westminster as "“the submarine"” for his habit of surfacing only for set-piece events and retreating under water at the first sign of trouble, he has become one of the government'’s most visible faces. In the last year, he has made a series of high-profile speeches on the economy, taken the fight to Alex Salmond in Scotland, and even braved the world of Twitter. The morning after the government’'s defeat over Syria, it was the Chancellor who led the counter-offensive on the Today programme. 
 
All of this has led some to ask a question that would have seemed unthinkable a year ago: is George Osborne the next leader of the Conservative Party? The speech he delivered to his party’'s conference was the most prime ministerial he has ever given, reminiscent of the state of the nation addresses that Gordon Brown made in his pomp. In his peroration, Osborne declared: “"I don'’t want to see other nations pushing the frontiers of science and invention and commerce and explain to my children: that used to be us; that used to be our country. I don'’t want to look back and say I was part of a generation that gave up and got poorer as a result."” Rather than turning his fire on Ed Balls, he contrasted himself with Ed Miliband: “"I share none of the pessimism I saw from the Leader of the Opposition last week”", declaring: "What I offer is a serious plan for a grown-up country".” As well as referencing his children, he spoke of his pride at his parents who “"planned carefully, took a risk, and set up a small manufacturing company more than forty years ago.”"
 
Should the economic recovery propel the Tories to victory in 2015, Osborne will have a powerful platform from which to launch a future leadership bid. Among his existing assets are a loyal backbench following, a network of influential media supporters and a gifted staff that includes former Policy Exchange director Neil O’'Brien. 
 
The Chancellor’'s ascent is far from inevitable. A renewed economic downturn, or the implosion of the housing market, could wreck his reputation again. Defeat for the Tories at the general would force him, as well as Cameron, to leave the stage. But should the Prime Minister win against the odds in 2015, the sword of succession could yet fall on Osborne'’s shoulder. 
George Osborne delivers his speech at the Conservative conference in Manchester. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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"We repealed, then forgot": the long shadow of Section 28 homophobia

Why are deeply conservative views about the "promotion" of homosexuality still being reiterated to Scottish school pupils? 

Grim stories of LGBTI children being bullied in school are all too common. But one which emerged over the weekend garnered particular attention - because of the echoes of the infamous Section 28, nearly two decades after it was scrapped.

A 16-year-old pupil of a West Lothian school, who does not wish to be named, told Pink News that staff asked him to remove his small rainbow pride badge because, though they had "no problem" with his sexuality, it was not appropriate to "promote it" in school. It's a blast from the past - the rules against "promoting" homosexuality were repealed in 2000 in Scotland, but the long legacy of Section 28 seems hard to shake off. 

The local authority responsible said in a statement that non-school related badges are not permitted on uniforms, and says it is "committed to equal rights for LGBT people". 

The small badge depicted a rainbow-striped heart, which the pupil said he had brought back from the Edinburgh Pride march the previous weekend. He reportedly "no longer feels comfortable going to school", and said homophobia from staff members felt "much more scar[y] than when I encountered the same from other pupils". 

At a time when four Scottish party leaders are gay, and the new Westminster parliament included a record number of LGBTQ MPs, the political world is making progress in promoting equality. But education, it seems, has not kept up. According to research from LGBT rights campaigners Stonewall, 40 per cent of LGBT pupils across the UK reported being taught nothing about LGBT issues at school. Among trans students, 44 per cent said school staff didn’t know what "trans" even means.

The need for teacher training and curriculum reform is at the top of campaigners' agendas. "We're disappointed but not surprised by this example," says Jordan Daly, the co-founder of Time for Inclusive Education [TIE]. His grassroots campaign focuses on making politicians and wider society aware of the reality LGBTI school students in Scotland face. "We're in schools on a monthly basis, so we know this is by no means an isolated incident." 

Studies have repeatedly shown a startling level of self-harm and mental illness reported by LGBTI school students. Trans students are particularly at risk. In 2015, Daly and colleagues began a tour of schools. Shocking stories included one in which a teacher singled out a trans pupils for ridicule in front of the class. More commonly, though, staff told them the same story: we just don't know what we're allowed to say about gay relationships. 

This is the point, according to Daly - retraining, or rather the lack of it. For some of those teachers trained during the 1980s and 1990s, when Section 28 prevented local authorities from "promoting homosexuality", confusion still reigns about what they can and cannot teach - or even mention in front of their pupils. 

The infamous clause was specific in its homophobia: the "acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship" could not be mentioned in schools. But it's been 17 years since the clause was repealed in Scotland - indeed, it was one of the very first acts of the new Scottish Parliament (the rest of the UK followed suit three years later). Why are we still hearing this archaic language? 

"We repealed, we clapped and cheered, and then we just forgot," Daly says. After the bitter campaign in Scotland, in which an alliance of churches led by millionaire businessman Brian Souter poured money into "Keeping the Clause", the government was pleased with its victory, which seemed to establish Holyrood as a progressive political space early on in the life of the parliament. But without updating the curriculum or retraining teaching staff, Daly argues, it left a "massive vacuum" of uncertainty. 

The Stonewall research suggests a similar confusion is likely across the UK. Daly doesn't believe the situation in Scotland is notably worse than in England, and disputes the oft-cited allegation that the issue is somehow worse in Scotland's denominational schools. Homophobia may be "wrapped up in the language of religious belief" in certain schools, he says, but it's "just as much of a problem elsewhere. The TIE campaign doesn't have different strategies for different schools." 

After initial disappointments - their thousands-strong petition to change the curriculum was thrown out by parliament in 2016 - the campaign has won the support of leaders such as Nicola Sturgeon and Kezia Dugdale, and recently, the backing of a majority of MSPs. The Scottish government has set up a working group, and promised a national strategy. 

But for Daly, who himself struggled at a young age with his sexuality and society's failure to accept it, the matter remains an urgent one.  At just 21, he can reel off countless painful stories of young LGBTI students - some of which end in tragedy. One of the saddest elements of the story from St Kentigern's is that the pupil claimed his school was the safest place he had to express his identity, because he was not out at home. Perhaps for a gay pupil in ten years time, that will be a guarantee. 

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