Shock: King Herod turns green

Michael Jacobs thinks that, before very long, we really will have an energy tax

Lord Marshall of Knightsbridge makes an unlikely green hero. Chairman of British Airways (one of the biggest companies in one of the world's most polluting sectors), former captain of the captains of industry at the CBI, he is a man who just eight months ago was not known to have any environmentalist sympathies whatsoever. Indeed, when he was asked by Gordon Brown in March to examine the potential role of an energy tax on industry, Friends of the Earth described this as "like putting Herod in charge of childcare".

Herod has obviously been to parenting classes. Marshall's report to the Chancellor, published with the pre-Budget statement last week but little noticed, not only recommends that an industrial energy tax be introduced, but in doing so accepts the central assumptions and claims of the environmental movement. It is not too much to say that the Marshall report marks a coming of age for the green movement.

The power of the report stems from its conclusion that industrial competitiveness, contrary to the CBI's view, need not be harmed by an energy tax.

First, Marshall insists the revenues from the tax should be recycled back to business: partly in the reduction of other business taxes, partly as assistance towards energy efficiency investment measures. This will ensure that the overall tax burden on industry is kept broadly neutral: there would simply be redistribution from extravagant to efficient energy users.

Indeed, Marshall argues that if the introduction of an energy tax allowed labour taxes (such as employers' national insurance contributions) to be reduced, the overall effect on the economy could be positive. This would be the so-called "double dividend", in which falling energy use is accompanied by rising employment. This claim has been widely modelled by environmental economists; it is the first time it has appeared in a Treasury document.

Second, Marshall shows how, throughout industry, improvements in energy efficiency would save firms money. A tax would help to get these implemented, but would leave firms no worse off overall. He argues that it is only in the energy-intensive sectors (such as iron and steel, cement and chemicals) that seriously higher costs would result. He recommends that energy-intensive firms should be given either lower tax rates in return for signing energy efficiency agreements with the government, or tax credits or reliefs for emission-reducing investments.

Third, the report points out that six European countries already have energy or carbon taxes. An energy tax package (with lower labour taxes) is a centrepiece of the new government programme in Germany, and the Italian government has proposed a carbon tax in its latest budget. The claim, therefore, that an energy tax would raise British industry's costs above those of its competitors does not stand up.

So the environmentalist baton has been passed to the Treasury. Will Gordon Brown run with it? Don't be fooled by his non-committal statement last week; the Treasury is definitely interested. This is not surprising: after a short while, an energy tax could bring in several billion pounds a year, and the Treasury does not turn up its nose at new revenue streams of this magnitude.

Just as importantly, Brown is well aware of the political opportunity. The transport white paper has proposed allowing local authorities to introduce road-congestion charges, and to use the money for public transport spending; it has also raised the prospect of a tax on office car parking. Other measures, including the reform of company car taxation, a pesticides tax and water pollution charges, are under review.

But the energy tax is the big one, and would firmly establish Brown as the first green Chancellor. The prospect of combining environmental virtue with reductions in other business taxes, including possibly the national insurance "tax on jobs", might well look enticing.

Peter Mandelson at the Department for Trade and Industry will be the principal focus for industry lobbying. The DTI has co-operated fully with the Marshall study, but its instincts are likely to be negative. Which way Mandelson will turn, however, is not clear. On the one hand, his agenda is pro-business and he will not want to damage the government's good relations with the CBI. But on the other, the energy tax can be seen as wholly in line with his vision of a highly efficient, high-technology future for British industry.

Current energy use patterns by British firms are wasteful and unproductive; investing in the latest energy-efficient technology should be a central part of any strategy of modernisation. As the Marshall report argues, there are potential export opportunities here, too. In these circumstances Mandelson might well find the environmental case as attractive as Brown.

All eyes will now be focused on the Budget next March. Clearly more work needs to be done on the precise design of any new tax. But the environmental lobby argues that this should not prevent the government announcing an intention to introduce it, just as it did with the windfall tax. A clear commitment would encourage firms to make adjustment plans well in advance of implementation.

Either way, the proposal for an industrial energy tax is now firmly on the agenda. At last, the environmental movement has entered the heart of government.

The writer, an environmental economist, is general secretary of the Fabian Society

Michael Jacobs is visiting professor in the Department of Political Science / School of Public Policy at UCL and at the Grantham Research Institute on Climate Change and the Environment at the London School of Economics. He is co-editor of the Political Quarterly

This article first appeared in the 13 November 1998 issue of the New Statesman, Why gays become politicians

Getty
Show Hide image

The French millennials marching behind Marine Le Pen

A Front National rally attracts former socialists with manicured beards, and a lesbian couple. 

“In 85 days, Marine will be President of the French Republic!” The 150-strong crowd cheered at the sound of the words. On stage, the speaker, the vice-president of the far-right Front National (FN), Florian Philippot, continued: “We will be told that it’s the apocalypse, by the same banks, media, politicians, who were telling the British that Brexit would be an immediate catastrophe.

"Well, they voted, and it’s not! The British are much better off than we are!” The applause grew louder and louder. 

I was in the medieval city of Metz, in a municipal hall near the banks of the Moselle River, a tributary of the Rhine from which the region takes its name. The German border lies 49km east; Luxembourg City is less than an hour’s drive away. This is the "Country of the Three Borders", equidistant from Strasbourg and Frankfurt, and French, German and French again after various wars. Yet for all that local history is deeply rooted in the wider European history, votes for the Front National rank among the highest nationally, and continue to rise at every poll. 

In rural Moselle, “Marine”, as the Front National leader Marine Le Pen is known, has an envoy. In 2014, the well-spoken, elite-educated Philippot, 35, ran for mayor in Forbach, a former miner’s town near the border. He lost to the Socialist candidate but has visited regularly since. Enough for the locals to call him “Florian".

I grew up in a small town, Saint-Avold, halfway between Metz and Forbach. When my grandfather was working in the then-prosperous coal mines, the Moselle region attracted many foreign workers. Many of my fellow schoolmates bore Italian and Polish surnames. But the last mine closed in 2004, and now, some of the immigrants’ grandchildren are voting for the National Front.

Returning, I can't help but wonder: How did my generation, born with the Maastricht treaty, end up turning to the Eurosceptic, hard right FN?

“We’ve seen what the other political parties do – it’s always the same. We must try something else," said Candice Bertrand, 23, She might not be part of the group asking Philippot for selfies, but she had voted FN at every election, and her family agreed. “My mum was a Communist, then voted for [Nicolas] Sarkozy, and now she votes FN. She’s come a long way.”  The way, it seemed, was political distrust.

Minutes earlier, Philippot had pleaded with the audience to talk to their relatives and neighbours. Bertrand had brought her girlfriend, Lola, whom she was trying to convince to vote FN.  Lola wouldn’t give her surname – her strongly left-wing family would “certainly not” like to know she was there. She herself had never voted.

This infuriated Bertrand. “Women have fought for the right to vote!” she declared. Daily chats with Bertrand and her family had warmed up Lola to voting Le Pen in the first round, although not yet in the second. “I’m scared of a major change,” she confided, looking lost. “It’s a bit too extreme.” Both were too young to remember 2002, when a presidential victory for the then-Front National leader Jean-Marie Le Pen, was only a few percentage points away.

Since then, under the leadership of his daughter, Marine, the FN has broken every record. But in this region, the FN’s success isn’t new. In 2002, when liberal France was shocked to see Le Pen reach the second round of the presidential election, the FN was already sailing in Moselle. Le Pen grabbed 23.7 per cent of the Moselle vote in the first round and 21.9 per cent in the second, compared to 16.9 per cent and 17.8 per cent nationally. 

The far-right vote in Moselle remained higher than the national average before skyrocketing in 2012. By then, the younger, softer-looking Marine had taken over the party. In that year, the FN won an astonishing 24.7 per cent of the Moselle vote, and 17.8 per cent nationwide.

For some people of my generation, the FN has already provided opportunities. With his manicured beard and chic suit, Emilien Noé still looks like the Young Socialist he was between 16 and 18 years old. But looks can be deceiving. “I have been disgusted by the internal politics at the Socialist Party, the lack of respect for the low-ranked campaigners," he told me. So instead, he stood as the FN’s youngest national candidate to become mayor in his village, Gosselming, in 2014. “I entered directly into action," he said. (He lost). Now, at just 21, Noé is the FN’s youth coordinator for Eastern France.

Metz, Creative Commons licence credit Morgaine

Next to him stood Kevin Pfeiffer, 27. He told me he used to believe in the Socialist ideal, too - in 2007, as a 17-year-old, he backed Ségolène Royal against Sarkozy. But he is now a FN local councillor and acts as the party's general co-ordinator in the region. Both Noé and Pfeiffer radiated a quiet self-confidence, the sort that such swift rises induces. They shared a deep respect for the young-achiever-in-chief: Philippot. “We’re young and we know we can have perspectives in this party without being a graduate of l’ENA,” said another activist, Olivier Musci, 24. (The elite school Ecole Nationale d’Administration, or ENA, is considered something of a mandatory finishing school for politicians. It counts Francois Hollande and Jacques Chirac among its alumni. Ironically, Philippot is one, too.)

“Florian” likes to say that the FN scores the highest among the young. “Today’s youth have not grown up in a left-right divide”, he told me when I asked why. “The big topics, for them, were Maastricht, 9/11, the Chinese competition, and now Brexit. They have grown up in a political world structured around two poles: globalism versus patriotism.” Notably, half his speech was dedicated to ridiculing the FN's most probably rival, the maverick centrist Emmanuel Macron. “It is a time of the nations. Macron is the opposite of that," Philippot declared. 

At the rally, the blue, red and white flame, the FN’s historic logo, was nowhere to be seen. Even the words “Front National” had deserted the posters, which were instead plastered with “in the name of the people” slogans beneath Marine’s name and large smile. But everyone wears a blue rose at the buttonhole. “It’s the synthesis between the left’s rose and the right’s blue colour”, Pfeiffer said. “The symbol of the impossible becoming possible.” So, neither left nor right? I ask, echoing Macron’s campaign appeal. “Or both left and right”, Pfeiffer answered with a grin.

This nationwide rebranding follows years of efforts to polish the party’s jackass image, forged by decades of xenophobic, racist and anti-Semitic declarations by Le Pen Sr. His daughter evicted him from the party in 2015.

Still, Le Pen’s main pledges revolve around the same issue her father obsessed over - immigration. The resources spent on "dealing with migrants" will, Le Pen promises, be redirected to address the concerns of "the French people". Unemployment, which has been hovering at 10 per cent for years, is very much one of them. Moselle's damaged job market is a booster for the FN - between 10 and 12 per cent of young people are unemployed.

Yet the two phenomena cannot always rationally be linked. The female FN supporters I met candidly admitted they drove from France to Luxembourg every day for work and, like many locals, often went shopping in Germany. Yet they hoped to see the candidate of “Frexit” enter the Elysee palace in May. “We've never had problems to work in Luxembourg. Why would that change?” asked Bertrand. (Le Pen's “144 campaign pledges” promise frontier workers “special measures” to cross the border once out of the Schengen area, which sounds very much like the concept of the Schengen area itself.)

Grégoire Laloux, 21, studied history at the University of Metz. He didn't believe in the European Union. “Countries have their own interests. There are people, but no European people,” he said. “Marine is different because she defends patriotism, sovereignty, French greatness and French history.” He compared Le Pen to Richelieu, the cardinal who made Louis XIV's absolute monarchy possible:  “She, too, wants to build a modern state.”

French populists are quick to link the country's current problems to immigration, and these FN supporters were no exception. “With 7m poor and unemployed, we can't accept all the world's misery,” Olivier Musci, 24, a grandchild of Polish and Italian immigrants, told me. “Those we welcome must serve the country and be proud to be here.”

Lola echoed this call for more assimilation. “At our shopping centre, everyone speaks Arabic now," she said. "People have spat on us, thrown pebbles at us because we're lesbians. But I'm in my country and I have the right to do what I want.” When I asked if the people who attacked them were migrants, she was not so sure. “Let's say, they weren't white.”

Trump promised to “Make America Great Again”. To where would Le Pen's France return? Would it be sovereign again? White again? French again? Ruled by absolutism again? She has blurred enough lines to seduce voters her father never could – the young, the gay, the left-wingers. At the end of his speech, under the rebranded banners, Philippot invited the audience to sing La Marseillaise with him. And in one voice they did: “To arms citizens! Form your battalions! March, march, let impure blood, water our furrows...” The song is the same as the one I knew growing up. But it seemed to me, this time, a more sinister tune.