What happens in Greece will not stay there. Photo: Getty Images
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What happens in Greece will not stay there. The Prime Minister must act

Rachel Reeves surveys the scene ahead of the UK's budget and explains why she's backing Andy Burnham for Labour leader.

In the aftermath of the Greek referendum, the threat of instability in the Eurozone reminds us that Britain cannot insulate itself from global economic forces. So we need this week’s Budget to help build a more resilient economy – securing our public finances, productivity and competitiveness.

Tony Blair and Gordon Brown rightly kept us out of the single currency that was supposed to deliver stability - but is currently creating the opposite. Yet we would be naïve to think that disruption on our doorstep will not have consequences at home. In Europe and at the IMF the British Prime Minister and Chancellor should be arguing for a new deal for Greece, including proper restructuring of the Greek economy but also more time and greater debt write-downs. Without this, more austerity is simply going to deliver higher unemployment, lower output, and deeper deficits.

But uncertainty abroad also underscores the importance of securing our position at home.

Before the 2007 global financial crisis hit, Britain’s national debt was less than 40 per cent of GDP. Today it is more than 80 per cent. It will be the work of this, and future, parliaments to get it back to sustainable pre-crisis levels. This is not only so we can withstand external shocks, it is also essential for ending a situation where annual debt interest payments are set to exceed £50bn a year – more taxpayers’ money going to bondholders every year than we pay to the teachers in our schools or the nurses in our hospitals. We must deal with our debt precisely so we can release resources for the public services we believe in and the infrastructure our economy needs.

Labour is committed to this task. But we will need to be clearer than we were at the last election about a timetable for getting the deficit down and set a target for when we would get the national debt back to pre-crisis levels. The approach Labour committed to before the election could have seen debt still above 65 per cent in 2030. We must admit the mistakes of the past, and be clear that while spending on public services did not cause the financial crisis, the deficit that we were running when the shock hit meant we weren't as prepared as we should have been. Andy Burnham understands this, and this is exactly why I am backing him for Leader of the Labour Party. Looking forward, we should commit to run a surplus when the economy is growing at or above its historic average rate, allowing us to bring the debt down more quickly. And the Office for Budget Responsibility should be the independent arbiter of the government’s progress in this.

Getting our debt down as a share of GDP means cutting departmental spending as well as driving efficiency across all our public services. But crucially, it also means building a more productive and inclusive economy, raising earnings and reducing reliance on benefits and tax credits.

Early in the last Parliament, George Osborne promised to “rebalance the economy” with a “march of the makers”. But since then we have seen productivity stagnate, our current account deficit rise to record levels, and a fragile recovery that remains too reliant on household borrowing and which has yet to be felt in many parts of the country.

The underlying weaknesses and imbalances in our economy pose no less a risk to our future stability and prosperity than the unsustainable state of our public finances. We need a Budget that rises to both challenges.

Take social security spending, Labour supports the principle of a benefit cap to ensure our welfare system is fair, affordable and rewards hard work. But to make significant savings from social security we need a Budget to create more productive, high skilled, better paid jobs. Without this, cutting away support for low-paid workers, as this government plans, risks weakening work incentives and deepening the division and disadvantage that prevent us making the most of our country’s potential.

Now is not the time to be timid, now is the time to be bold and so on Wednesday, the Chancellor should announce an increase in the minimum wage. And with five million people paid less than living wage, there should be tax breaks for firms who will pay the living wage, better use of government procurement and a requirement on companies to report on whether they pay the living wage so consumers can vote with their purses and wallets.

And crucially, this week's budget needs to back the entrepreneurs and employers who create jobs – rewarding innovation and investment, improving access to finance, and doing what it takes to secure the research base, skilled workforce and world class infrastructure businesses need.

With a focus on economic credibility, constructive engagement with business and a bold plan for technical education and skills, Andy has shown that he gets this - and the need for Labour to lead the debate over Britain’s economic future.

That’s why I am pleased to be co-chairing Andy's Business Panel which launched last week alongside Graham Cole, chair of Augusta Westland, and Shabir Randeree, Chair of DCD group. This week the panel met for the first time to start the conversation in which we will work to engage businesses of all shapes and sizes throughout the country – so that Labour can best understand what businesses need to create the jobs and opportunities to grow our economy.

Dealing decisively with the deficit and the debt are essential to good economic management, but so is a strategy to raise the productivity of our workforce and the competitiveness of our businesses. If this week’s budget does not rise to this twin challenge, we in the Labour Party must show that we can.

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The dog at the end of the lead may be small, but in fact what I’m walking is a hound of love

There is a new, hairy face in the Hovel.

There is a new, hairy face in the Hovel. I seem to have become a temporary co-owner of an enthusiastic Chorkie. A Chorkie, in case you’re not quite up to speed with your canine crossbreeds, is a mixture of a chihuahua and a Yorkshire Terrier, and while my friend K— busies herself elsewhere I am looking after this hound.

This falls squarely into the category of Things I Never Thought I’d Do. I’m a cat person, taking my cue from their idleness, cruelty and beauty. Dogs, with their loyalty, their enthusiasm and their barking, are all a little too much for me, even after the first drink of the day. But the dog is here, and I am in loco parentis, and it is up to me to make sure that she is looked after and entertained, and that there is no repetition of the unfortunate accident that occurred outside my housemate’s room, and which needed several tissues and a little poo baggie to make good.

As it is, the dog thinks I am the bee’s knees. To give you an idea of how beeskneesian it finds me, it is licking my feet as I write. “All right,” I feel like saying to her, “you don’t have to go that far.”

But it’s quite nice to be worshipped like this, I have decided. She has also fallen in love with the Hovel, and literally writhes with delight at the stinky cushions on the sofa. Named after Trude Fleischmann, the lesbian erotic photographer of the Twenties, Thirties and Forties, she has decided, with admirable open-mindedness, that I am the Leader of the Pack. When I take the lead, K— gets a little vexed.

“She’s walking on a loose lead, with you,” K— says. “She never does that when I’m walking her.” I don’t even know what that means, until I have a think and work it out.

“She’s also walking to heel with you,” K— adds, and once again I have to join a couple of mental dots before the mists part. It would appear that when it comes to dogs, I have a natural competence and authority, qualities I had never, not even in my most deranged flights of self-love, considered myself to possess in any measurable quantity at all.

And golly, does having a dog change the relationship the British urban flâneur has with the rest of society. The British, especially those living south of Watford, and above all those in London, do not recognise other people’s existence unless they want to buy something off them or stop them standing on the left of the sodding escalator, you idiot. This all changes when you have a dog with you. You are now fair game for any dog-fancier to come up to you and ask the most personal questions about the dog’s history and genealogy. They don’t even have to have a dog of their own; but if you do, you are obliged by law to stop and exchange dog facts.

My knowledge of dog facts is scant, extending not much further beyond them having a leg at each corner and chasing squirrels, so I leave the talking to K—, who, being a friendly sort who could probably talk dog all day long if pressed, is quite happy to do that. I look meanwhile in a kind of blank wonder at whichever brand of dog we’ve just encountered, and marvel not only at the incredible diversity of dog that abounds in the world, but at a realisation that had hitherto escaped me: almost half of London seems to have one.

And here’s the really interesting thing. When I have the leash, the city looks at me another way. And, specifically, the young women of the city. Having reached the age when one ceases to be visible to any member of the opposite sex under 30, I find, all of a sudden, that I exist again. Women of improbable beauty look at Trude, who looks far more Yorkie than chihuahua, apart from when she does that thing with the ears, and then look at me, and smile unguardedly and unironically, signalling to me that they have decided I am a Good Thing and would, were their schedules not preventing them, like to chat and get to know me and the dog a bit better.

I wonder at first if I am imagining this. I mention it to K—.

“Oh yes,” she says, “it’s a thing. My friend P-J regularly borrows her when he wants to get laid. He reckons he’s had about 12 shags thanks to her in the last six months. The problems only arise when they come back again and notice the dog isn’t there.”

I do the maths. Twelve in six months! That’s one a fortnight. An idea begins to form in my mind. I suppose you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to work out what it is. But no. I couldn’t. Could I?

Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism