George Osborne holding the red box before leaving 11 Downing Street to deliver his Budget. Photograph: Getty Images.
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The Budget showed Osborne’s greatest skill: the ability to rebrand his failure as success

The Chancellor has made a virtue of coalition government and of missing his deficit targets. 

For five years, George Osborne has been managing failure. The Chancellor’s sixth Budget, like its predecessors, was delivered in coalition; the presence of Nick Clegg and Danny Alexander on the government front bench is a permanent reminder of how the Conservatives fell short at the last general election. As his party’s chief strategist in 2010, Osborne continues to live in the shadow of that campaign.

This political failure was followed by an economic one. Osborne’s original ambition was to eliminate the structural deficit in a single term. The collapse of growth after he entered office forced him to postpone this goal. Higher-than-forecast borrowing cost the UK its triple-A credit rating, the metric that he had adopted as the defining test of his economic credibility. Few politicians have recovered from such a gap between promise and delivery.

Osborne’s skill has been to transform this political base metal into gold. He has been the great alchemist of this parliament. The Chancellor made a virtue of coalition government by co-opting the Lib Dems’ best ideas – increasing the personal tax allowance, granting new freedoms over pensions – and aggressively rebranding them as Conservative achievements. The Tories’ junior partners protest indignantly, reminding voters that David Cameron told Clegg during the first 2010 leaders’ debate that the country could not “afford” to “take every­one out of their first £10,000 of income tax”. (Osborne's Budget increased the threshold to £10,800.) But, as Ronald Reagan observed: “If you’re explaining, you’re losing.”

When the near-disappearance of growth almost halted deficit reduction, Osborne chose not to impose additional fiscal tightening, instead redefining austerity as a two-term project. Labour has been left unsure whether to applaud the Chancellor for adopting the more moderate path it advocated (“a victory for sensible Keynesian thinking” was how his shadow, Ed Balls, recently described it to me) or to denounce him for failing on his own terms. In both cases, it has been forced to concede that it, too, would impose austerity after the election, an admission that has corroded its left-wing support. There are some Conservatives who wonder aloud whether greater deficit reduction would have been more politically hazardous, liberating Labour to promise the return of big spending.

Osborne’s greatest act of conjury, as ­fiscal boundaries have shifted, has been to entrench an image of himself as a figure of unbending constancy. Aides say that the Chancellor, whose once-poor approval ­ratings now exceed those of the three main party leaders, is congratulated by the public on “sticking to the plan” during his hard-hat tours. Like Margaret Thatcher (who was sometimes for turning), he knows that, in politics, appearance matters more than reality.

The truth is that Osborne has changed. Midway through the parliament, after the humbling experience of his 2012 “omni­shambles” Budget, he began to remake himself as a more complex and sophisticated politician. Osborne now speaks of the state as an ally as often as he does of it as an enemy and compares himself to Michael Heseltine. He has resurrected the cause of “full employment” (albeit more loosely defined than in previous decades), championed increases in the minimum wage (which will rise by 3 per cent, to £6.70 an hour, from October) and begun the construction of a “northern powerhouse” to challenge London’s hegemony. This ideological rebalancing is driven by Osborne’s Huddersfield-born, comprehensive-educated adviser Neil O’Brien, who wrote of the need for the Tories to decontaminate their brand in urban regions during his time as director of Policy Exchange. That Osborne embraced such an interesting thinker is evidence, say Tory MPs, of his intellectual restlessness, contrasting him with the dependable but unimaginative Cameron.

But like a rock star whose new album includes traditional material for older fans, the Chancellor is playing some familiar tunes. He has revived his 2007 pledge to raise the inheritance tax threshold to £1m. It was this policy that spooked Gordon Brown into abandoning plans for an early election and that earned Osborne his reputation as a strategic grandmaster. But the politics is not uncomplicated for him. If the measure will appeal to aspirational voters, the decision to prioritise the reduction of a tax paid by just 4.9 per cent of estates risks reinforcing the Tories’ status as the party of the privileged. Few policies more sharply contradict Michael Gove’s exhortation to be “warriors for the dispossessed” and to penalise “the undeserving rich”.

The Budget promised less post-election austerity than implied by the Autumn Statement, as Osborne sought to neutralise Labour's 1930s attack line. But because of his ambition of a surplus by the end of the next parliament, accompanied by no further tax rises, a fiscal chasm remains between his plans and those of Labour. Ed Balls’s decision to leave room to borrow to invest would give him nearly £30bn of additional spending each year.

It was partly the fear of massacred public services that denied the Tories a majority in 2010, in the most propitious circumstances. Osborne’s wager is that their unexpected resilience will persuade voters that further austerity is tolerable; that fear of a “tax bombshell” and “economic chaos” under Labour will predominate.

When the Tories entered office, some doubted that this question would even arise. The belief was that they would be evicted from government on a wave of popular outrage over the cuts. But the wave never came. Osborne has managed failure well indeed. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 19 March 2015 issue of the New Statesman, British politics is broken

Richard Burden
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The warnings Bosnian gravestones carry for us in 2016

Xenophobia does not usually lead to Srebrenica. But it can do.

Two weeks ago, I joined a visit to Bosnia organised by Remember Srebrenica. If you have ever seen one of the Commonwealth War Graves cemeteries in Northern France, you will have a sense of what the cemetery in Potocari, near Srebrenica, is like. Row upon row of identical white headstones stretching into the distance. Whereas in France, of course, most of the headstones are marked by the cross, in Potocari they are white obelisks. Overwhelmingly, they mark the graves of Muslims.

In the 1990s, the old battery factory of Potocari was the headquarters of Dutch troops. They had been deployed to uphold the United Nations designation of the enclave as a safe area. Their presence, however, did not stop Serb troops from rounding up around 25,000 people sheltering at the base in July 1995. Once the UN troops stood aside, families were divided. Most of the women and children were loaded and sent west to areas of the country still controlled by the Bosnian government. The men and boys were loaded on to separate trucks. Within days, most of them were systematically shot.

Many other men and boys had already taken to the woods to escape, only to face shells, snipers and ambush on the way. Some, like 19-year-old Hasan Hasanovic, made it through to free territory around Tuzla. Many did not. Those did not die in the woods were either persuaded to give themselves up, or were captured. Like the men and boys who had been taken from outside the UN base at Potocari, most simply disappeared. To this day, their bones are still being found in or near mass graves in eastern Bosnia.

And so, 21 years on, I met Hasan at Potocari. July1995 was the last time he saw his twin brother Hussein, his father Aziz or his uncle, Hasan.

The former UN Secretary General Kofi Annan described the Srebrenica massacre as the worst crime on European soil since the Second World War. Indeed, the word massacre doesn’t convey the enormity of what happened. Earlier this year, the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia found 1990s Bosnian Serb leader Radovan Karadzic guilty of involvement in genocide. The verdict in the trial of military leader Ratko Mladic is expected later this year.

Nobody who visits Potocari can fail to be moved by what you see there. For me, it brought back memories of how, as a new MP back in the 1990s, I was one of those calling for more assertive international action to stop the carnage that was unfolding in Bosnia. It was an unfamiliar position to find myself in. All my political life until that point, I had been amongst those opposing involvement in military action abroad. Now I found myself supporting intervention. For three years before the Srebrenica genocide, people in Sarajevo had been starved of food, medicines and even the means to defend themselves as their city was remorselessly pounded from the hills that surround it. We knew it. We could see it on TV. We also saw that neither Europe nor NATO nor the UN were taking action that could have stopped it.

There were always so many geopolitical reasons not to intervene effectively. I heard them day after day from Ministers in the House of Commons. But that did not help the men, women and children who were dying in Sarajevo, and in 1995 it did not save Hasan’s twin brother, his father, his uncle or the 8,000 others who ended up in the mass graves around Srebrenica.

Since I have returned from Bosnia, two things keep dominating my thinking. The first is about Syria. The political circumstances that have led to the destruction of Aleppo today are not the same as those facing Sarajevo in the 1990s. For people trapped there though, the parallels must feel much more real than the differences. I don’t claim to have an off-the-shelf action plan for what the international community should do today any more than anyone else does. I just keep thinking how in twenty years’ time, people visiting Aleppo - hopefully reconstructed as Sarajevo has been today - will ask: “How could the world have let this happen in 2016?” What will be our answer?

The other thing that dominates my thoughts is that the genocide in Bosnia hit people like me. A man I met, who unexpectedly found himself becoming a soldier in 1992, told me how, before the war, he wore a t-shirt, jeans and an earring. On a good day, he would to listen to the Ramones. On a bad day, it would be the Sex Pistols. I am a bit older than him, but this was still my generation. And it happened In Europe.

What is more, the murders and the ethnic cleansing were not committed by strangers. So often, they were committed by neighbours. These were normal people who had been whipped up to dehumanise those who they were told were “different”. They were told that their way of life was under threat. They internalised it. They believed it. And, down the line, they no longer needed persuading it was “them or us”.

Most of the time, xenophobia does not lead to the horrors that have scarred Srebrenica forever. But it can do. That a lesson for all of us must never forget. So next time you hear someone talking about people living either down the road or across the sea being "them" not "us", don't shrug and walk away. Speak up and speak out instead.

Richard Burden is Labour MP for Birmingham Northfield and a Shadow Transport Minister. He visited Bosnia with the Remembering Srebrenica charity in October 2016. You can find out more about the Remembering Srebrenica charity here.

Richard Burden is MP for Birmingham Northfield. Follow him on Twitter @RichardBurdenMP.