George Osborne during a visit to the Royal Mint in Llantrisant, Wales. Photograph: Getty Images.
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Under the bonnet of the UK's economic recovery all is not well

To resign ourselves to a return to the economic pathologies of the past, as the Tories do, would be to miss a historic opportunity.

Last month, the OBR confirmed that Britain is now experiencing growth of over 2 per cent. After the slowest recovery from a recession on record – partly because of the depth of the impact of the crash, partly because of the fiscal austerity chosen by this government – we should all welcome this news, whatever our views on economic policy or our party affiliations. To do otherwise is not simply churlish: it is self-defeating for those who want to make the case that there are serious problems with the UK economy, and with the policy choices this government is making. And I think there are some very serious problems.

To see what the problems are, you need to look under the bonnet of the UK recovery. Firstly, it is a recovery predominantly fuelled by consumption, more than any other major economy. Where is this consumption coming from? Partly from the expansion of household debt, which reached a record high at the end of 2013. And partly from people running down their savings to spend more. Between January 2012 and December 2013, the UK savings ratio went from 8 per cent of GDP to 5.4 per cent. Germans save nearly twice as much as that. 

Secondly, it is a recovery of an economy that is relatively inefficient. Our productivity has gone from bad to worse since the crash, and is now about 20 per cent below the average of our G7 competitors. This year, Britain’s trade deficit is predicted to rise to the highest level of any industrial country in 2014, its highest level for a quarter of a century. And what about investment? As a share of GDP, investment in the UK economy dropped by a quarter in the five years after 2008. We now rank 159th in the world, just behind Paraguay and Mali.  

Thirdly, it is a recovery whose benefits are being felt by a very few, not by the broad majority. And not any old "very few" either. City bonuses are predicted to be 15 per cent up on last year. Meanwhile, average earnings are £1,600 a year lower than at the last election, and earnings will only have grown by half the level of the overall economy by the next election. The median household has seen their income drop by nearly 4 per cent since the recession. In our country, the poorest 40 per cent have the lowest share of national wealth of any western country.  

However you cut it, our economy has a problem in the engine room. We are too dependent on housing and debt for family incomes, too dependent on consumption rather than saving and investment, too dependent on an under-skilled workforce, and too dependent on low-wage and insecure jobs.  

But let’s be honest about these problems. They are not being addressed by this government, but they were not caused by it either. Nor are they problems that will be rectified in one policy heave, but instead require a determination to address them over a number of years. The question is: what is to be done?

This is where a clear choice between Labour and the Conservatives starts to emerge. The Conservatives’ answer has two parts. First, to say that the return of growth is the definition of economic success. Second, to double down on the economic model created after 1979. In George Osborne’s view, there is no point trying to reform the way our economy works. It is what it is. The role of government is to feed the low-wage, low-skill monster.  

That’s why the Tories prioritise further labour market deregulation in an economy that is among the most deregulated in the OECD. It’s why they want to revisit UK membership of the Social Chapter, 20 years on from the last debate about it. It is why they refuse to tackle zero-hours contracts. It is why they are happy to subsidise demand for housing yet preside over historically low levels of housebuilding activity. It is an approach based on the policy recipes of the 1980s and 1990s. And it won’t fix what doesn’t work.

The response of Labour under Ed Miliband’s leadership is different. We refuse to accept that there is nothing to be done about the snapping of the link between the fortunes of the economy and those of working people. Britain's problems with productivity, competitiveness and living standards are interconnected, and demand a thoroughgoing reform of how our economy works. That’s why Ed Miliband has said that the government he leads will prioritise a transformation of our banking system, resetting the energy market, a new target of building 200,000 new homes a year, a revolution in apprenticeships and technical education in our schools, and a historic transfer of many of the levers of economic policy from Whitehall to city regions and county-regions.

The easy response to the return of growth after such a long wait is to say that this agenda for fundamental reform is both too difficult and unnecessary. I strongly believe that would be a mistake. As Britain emerges from the most devastating and prolonged downturn of the past 100 years, to resign ourselves to a return to the economic pathologies of the past would be to miss a historic opportunity. As long as Britain’s international ranking on skills, investment and productivity is so low, and on inequality, centralisation and poverty so high, there will be a need for a government that sets itself the defining challenge of reforming the way our economy works. That is the challenge that Ed Miliband will meet.

Stewart Wood (Lord Wood of Anfield) is shadow cabinet minister without portfolio and an adviser to Ed Miliband in the leader's office

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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.