George Osborne leaves10 Downing Street on October 7, 2013. Photograph: Getty Images.
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Osborne is rewriting history on austerity

The Chancellor's criticis never said that there would be no recovery, only that it would be painfully slow. And they were right.

George Osborne is in Washington today to deliver what has been billed in advance as his "I told you so" speech. With the IMF forecasting that Britain will grow faster than any other G7 country this year, the Chancellor has decided to round on his critics. In a preview of his AEI speech in the Wall Street Journal, he writes: "pessimistic predictions that fiscal consolidation was incompatible with economic recovery have turned out to be comprehensively wrong."

To the extent that growth last year was stronger than expected, Osborne can claim some vindication (almost alone, his chief economic adviser Rupert Harrison predicted that the economy would be "going gangbusters"). But in claiming that his critics have been proved "comprehensively wrong" (who could he possibly have in mind?), he is engaging in a crude rewrite of history. Contrary to the Chancellor, his Keynesian opponents never said that there would be no recovery, only that it would be painfully slow. 

And they were right. More than five years after the financial crisis, GDP is still 1.4 per cent below its pre-recession peak. The US, by contrast, is more than 5 per cent above. To this, the Conservative riposte is that the UK suffered a bigger crash than any other major country, with output falling by 7.2 per cent from peak to trough. But as Larry Summers noted during his recent face-off with Osborne at the World Economic Forum, "The deeper the valley you are in, the more rapidly you are able to grow." 

The tardiness of the recovery cannot be blamed on the Chanceller alone. The eurozone crisis, the rise in global commodity prices and the fragility of the banking sector have all constrained growth. But it is precisely for these reasons that wise minds counselled him against austerity. As Ed Balls warned in his Bloomberg speech in 2010, Osborne was "ripping out the foundations of the house just as the hurricane is about to hit". Hippocrates’s injunction to "first, do no harm" should have been his watchword. Instead, with the private sector already contracting, he chose to tighten the squeeze. VAT was raised to 20% and infrastructure spending was slashed by 42% (an act even coalition ministers now concede was reckless). 

We are still paying the price today. The double-dip may have been revised away (growth was 0% in Q1 2012 rather than -0.1%; only an economic illiterate would celebrate that) but the austerians didn't only promise that Britain would avoid another recession, they promised, in the words of Osborne's first Budget, "a steady and sustained economic recovery". What we got was the slowest recovery for more than 100 years. To meet the OBR's original 2010 forecasts, the economy would need to expand by 1.6 per cent each quarter between now and the election. That there is now growth is in spite of austerity, not because of it. Despite his unflinching rhetoric, the Chancellor has adopted his own "plan B" in the form of Help To Buy (the largest-ever state intervention in the mortgage market), higher capital spending and deferred deficit targets. 

Even judging by the flawed metrics he adopted in 2010, Osborne has failed. Britain has lost its AAA credit rating and borrowing is forecast to be £48bn higher this year (£108bn) than promised in his first Budget. Having originally vowed to eliminate the structural deficit by 2014-2015, he has been forced to extend this pledge by three years to 2017-2018. 

But despite this track record, Osborne is still offering his services as a forecaster. He predicts that those who argue that "the link between living standards and economic growth has broken, will also be proved wrong" (again, who could he possibly have in mind?) The Chancellor's boast is not just that wages will finally crawl above inflation this year (after falling for the longest period since 1870) but that the proceeds of growth will be fairly shared. 

He may well be right (and let us hope he is). But the experience of the US, where the wealthiest 1 per cent have captured 95 per cent of the proceeds of post-recession growth, shows why it would be complacent to assume as much. Even after real wages start to increase, there will be no rise in living standards for the millions of public sector workers who have had their salary increases capped at 1 per cent (nearly half the rate of inflation) and for those most reliant on benefits. That Osborne knows all of this (indeed, as Chancellor, he's responsible for it) makes his sanguinity all the more puzzling. Having recovered from his "omnishambles" low, the Chancellor is setting himself up for a fall all over again. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

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 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times