An anti-HS2 protest sign. Photo: Christopher Furlong/Getty Images
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White nights in Sweden, the plight of circus animals and the spiralling cost of HS2

In this week's Diary, Stanley Johnson casts his eye from Stockholm to Old Oak Common.

I wrote my first article for the New Statesman at the time of the first great UN environment conference, held in Stockholm in June 1972. In fact, I filed three articles from Sweden in the course of that two-week conference and Tony Howard, the then NS editor, published them all, though he grumbled a bit when my third despatch arrived. “I would have settled for two,” he told me later.

Forty years on, that first world environment conference lives on in my mind. It wasn’t just the substance, it was the setting, too. Stockholm in the summer is stunning. The sun barely sets. Thousands of us – delegates, journalists, NGO activists – walked at midnight through the streets of the Old Town, chanting: “Save the Whale!”

Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive.

 

Elephant in the room

When is the government going to deliver on its long-standing promise to ban the use of wild animals in circuses?

The government, pleading lack of parliamentary time (!), is in theory backing a private member’s bill, but this has failed to make progress through the Commons after being blocked repeatedly by – guess who? – a Conservative MP, Christopher Chope.

Why doesn’t someone from No 10 or the whips’ office have a quiet word with Chope? The Prime Minister is committed. He told me so personally last year and Lord de Mauley, the Defra minister responsible, has reaffirmed that commitment as recently as 8 January this year.

What on earth is going on?

 

Bathing Adonis

Poor Andrew Adonis, now Baron Adonis of Camden Town, who thought up the High-Speed 2 project in his bath back in 2008 as a shiny new toy to parade in the Labour Party’s 2010 election manifesto, must rue the day he chose that particular title.

The other day I was standing in for David Mellor on LBC’s Ken Livingstone and David Mellor show when the light flashed on the console in front of us: “Martin” of Camden was on the line. “HS2’s plans for Euston will create the biggest construction site in Europe and cause traffic jams for 20 years,” he said. “I would invite Lord Adonis of Camden to apologise to the people of Camden.”

Another light flashed. Lord Adonis himself came on air, not to apologise but to claim that “upgrading the existing Victorian railway would cost as much as building HS2”. Not everyone agrees with the noble Labour lord on this point.

After the LBC broadcast, Chris Stokes, a former executive director of the Strategic Rail Authority, sent me an email: “The claim that upgrading the existing Victorian railway would cost about the same as HS2 is intellectually disreputable.

“The main line out of Euston is just about the least overcrowded route from London and capacity can be increased by lengthening the existing trains at a fraction of the cost of HS2.”

Stokes went on to cite a 2012 report by the renowned engineering consultants W S Atkins, which costed the “upgrading alternative to HS2” he had proposed at between £2bn and £3bn, as opposed to the £50bn-plus cost of HS2.

I can’t help feeling that Philip Rutnam, the permanent secretary at the Department for Transport, may want to take another look at the Atkins report.

 

Lankester bombshell

Rutnam is not only perm sec Transport, he is also the department’s accounting officer. Under the rules issued (or reissued) in July 2013 by Danny Alexander as “Chief Secretary of the Treasury”, the accounting officer has a personal legal responsibility to deliver “value for money”. I happened to be having dinner at a Greek restaurant in Camden Town with Sir Tim Lankester on the day the Commons public accounts committee said it was “sceptical whether the Department [for Transport] can deliver value for money for the taxpayer on High Speed 2”.

Lankester is an old friend. We joined the World Bank together in Washington in the 1960s. He went on to work in the Treasury and at No 10 before becoming permanent secretary at the Overseas Development Administration, now known as the Department for International Development.

As Lankester put it to me that evening: “Value for money is one of the things an accounting officer is personally responsible for – the other main things are regularity and propriety. If he has advised the minister that a particular item of expenditure fails to meet any of these tests, he is required to request a formal direction from the minister before money is spent. In that way, he is absolved from responsibility for the expenditure: it’s entirely the responsibility of the minister.”

Up here in Camden we believe there is one simple way of lopping between £15bn and £20bn off the costs of HS2 (assuming we are saddled with it). And that is for the train to stop at Old Oak Common. The HS2 bill currently before parliament already provides for a new station at Old Oak Common. Transport experts have demonstrated that you can get almost anywhere in London quicker from Old Oak Common than you can from Euston. And the link with HS1 has been cancelled anyway.

 

Nope to the Pope

I went to a bright, sunny Cambridge by train on Saturday 17 January to attend a memorial service for Sir Fred Catherwood.

Catherwood was elected to the European Parliament in 1979. Before that, he had been the director of the National Economic Development Council, or Neddy, a body set up Harold Wilson, ignored by Mrs Thatcher and finally abolished by John Major.

He was also a leading Christian evangelical. When newly elected Conservative MEPs were invited to meet the pope in Rome, Catherwood, as a Baptist Ulsterman, politely declined.

 

Great Brittan

I am sometimes asked whether Sir Leon Brittan was the model for the commissioner in my novel of that name. The answer is “no”. Leon, who died on 21 January, was a lovely man. He and his wife, Diana, could not have been kinder to lowly Brits like me who were working in Brussels at the time. But he wasn’t the basis for my book’s leading character. The dates don’t tally. The Commissioner was first published in 1987: Leon didn’t come to Brussels until 1989. He will be sadly missed by his many friends.

The second volume of Stanley Johnson’s memoir, “Stanley, I Resume: Further Recollections of an Exuberant Life”, is published by Robson Press

Stanley Johnson is an author, journalist and former Conservative member of the European Parliament. He has also worked in the European Commission. In 1984 Stanley was awarded the Greenpeace Prize for Outstanding Services to the Environment and in the same year the RSPCA Richard Martin award for services to animal welfare. In 1962 he won the Newdigate Prize for Poetry. He also happens to be the father of Boris Johnson.

This article first appeared in the 30 January 2015 issue of the New Statesman, The Class Ceiling

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Andy Burnham and Sadiq Khan are both slippery self-mythologisers – so why do we rate one more than the other?

Their obsessions with their childhoods have both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

Andy Burnham is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s widely seen as an unprincipled flip-flopper.

Sadiq Khan is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s the hugely popular mayor of London, the voice of those who’d be proud to think of themselves as the metropolitan liberal elite, and is even talked of as a possible future leader of the Labour party.

Oh, and also they were both born in 1970. So that’s a thing they have in common, too.

Why it is this approach to politics should have worked so much better for the mayor of London than the would-be mayor of Manchester is something I’ve been trying to work out for a while. There are definite parallels between Burnham’s attempts to present himself as a normal northern bloke who likes normal things like football, and Sadiq’s endless reminders that he’s a sarf London geezer whose dad drove a bus. They’ve both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

And yes, Burnham apparent tendency to switch sides, on everything from NHS privatisation to the 2015 welfare vote to the leadership of Jeremy Corbyn, has given him a reputation for slipperiness. But Sadiq’s core campaign pledge was to freeze London transport fares; everyone said it was nonsense, and true to form it was, and you’d be hard pressed to find an observer who thought this an atypical lapse on the mayor’s part. (Khan, too, has switched sides on the matter of Jeremy Corbyn.)

 And yet, he seems to get away with this, in a way that Burnham doesn’t. His low-level duplicity is factored in, and it’s hard to judge him for it because, well, it’s just what he’s like, isn’t it? For a long time, the Tory leadership’s line on London’s last mayor was “Boris is Boris”, meaning, look, we don’t trust him either, but what you gonna do? Well: Sadiq is Sadiq.

Even the names we refer to them by suggest that one of these two guys is viewed very differently from the other. I’ve instinctively slipped into referring to the mayor of London by his first name: he’s always Sadiq, not Khan, just as his predecessors were Boris and Ken. But, despite Eoin Clarke’s brief attempt to promote his 2015 leadership campaign with a twitter feed called “Labour Andy”, Burnham is still Burnham: formal, not familiar. 

I’ve a few theories to explain all this, though I’ve no idea which is correct. For a while I’ve assumed it’s about sincerity. When Sadiq Khan mentions his dad’s bus for the 257th time in a day, he does it with a wink to the audience, making a crack about the fact he won’t stop going on about it. That way, the message gets through to the punters at home who are only half listening, but the bored lobby hacks who’ve heard this routine two dozen times before feel they’re in the joke.

Burnham, it seems to me, lacks this lightness of touch: when he won’t stop banging on about the fact he grew up in the north, it feels uncomfortably like he means it. And to take yourself seriously in politics is sometimes to invite others to make jokes at your expense.

Then again, perhaps the problem is that Burnham isn’t quite sincere enough. Sadiq Khan genuinely is the son of a bus-driving immigrant: he may keep going on about it, but it is at least true. Burnham’s “just a northern lad” narrative is true, too, but excludes some crucial facts: that he went to Cambridge, and was working in Parliament aged 24. Perhaps that shouldn’t change how we interpret his story; but I fear, nonetheless, it does.

Maybe that’s not it, though: maybe I’m just another London media snob. Because Burnham did grow up at the disadvantaged end of the country, a region where, for too many people, chasing opportunities means leaving. The idea London is a city where the son of a bus driver can become mayor flatters our metropolitan self-image; the idea that a northerner who wants to build a career in politics has to head south at the earliest opportunity does the opposite. 

So if we roll our eyes when Burnham talks about the north, perhaps that reflects badly on us, not him: the opposite of northern chippiness is southern snobbery.

There’s one last possibility for why we may rate Sadiq Khan more highly than Andy Burnham: Sadiq Khan won. We can titter a little at the jokes and the fibs but he is, nonetheless, mayor of London. Andy Burnham is just the bloke who lost two Labour leadership campaigns.

At least – for now. In six weeks time, he’s highly likely to the first mayor of Greater Manchester. Slipperiness is not the worst quality in a mayor; and so much of the job will be about banging the drum for the city, and the region, that Burnham’s tendency to wear his northernness on his sleeve will be a positive boon.

Sadiq Khan’s stature has grown because the fact he became London’s mayor seems to say something, about the kind of city London is and the kind we want it to be. Perhaps, after May, Andy Burnham can do the same for the north – and the north can do the same for Andy Burnham.

Jonn Elledge edits the New Statesman's sister site CityMetric, and writes for the NS about subjects including politics, history and Daniel Hannan. You can find him on Twitter or Facebook.