Osborne shouts bingo - but let's first keep up with Paraguay

The UK cannot achieve a sustainable recovery until it can pay its way in the world, and despite a 25% depreciation of the currency over the last 5 years it still fails lamentably to do so.

Osborne’s reckless boast that he has been proved right over the economy will come back to haunt him. None of his claims stand up to examination.

“Those in favour of Plan B” (i.e. stimulating the economy to produce growth), he asserts, “have lost the argument”. That will be news to employees whose real earnings at current rates will have shrunk by £6,660 during the 2010-15 parliament. It will also come as a surprise to the UK’s biggest companies still sitting on corporate cash stockpiles of £700bn because they doubt the level of demand justifies new investment in plant or services.   The stock exchange and finance markets may be frothing, but the real economy isn’t.

Nor is it likely to be any time soon. In the last 5 years UK investment has fallen by a quarter in real terms, which is devastating in terms of future growth potential. It now stands at just 14% of GDP, against a global average of 24%. Indeed in terms of the global investment-to-GDP league Britain now stands 159th, behind El Salvador, Guatemala and Mali. A recovery based on low wages, poor productivity and weak investment must be expected to stutter and slip back by 2015.

Nor does the historical evidence indicate that Osborne’s counter-intuitive plan, known by the oxymoron of ‘expansionary fiscal contraction’, has ever worked.  It has been tried three times before – the so-called ‘Geddes axe’ cuts in 1921-2, the May businessmen committee cuts in 1931, and the Howe budget in 1981. The first enforced expenditure cuts very similar in real terms to today and led to a decade of anaemic growth.   The second was only saved from a similar fate by Britain being forced off the gold standard. The third led to growth only because interest rates were eased, bank lending loosened and a reviving US helped to reflate the world economy. None of those conditions remain now to be applied, so there is no reason to believe the Osborne ‘recovery’ will defy historical precedent.

Osborne’s second claim is that “Britain is poorer because of a huge failure of economic policy in the past decade” (i.e. it was all Labour’s fault). In other words, falling incomes today are due, not to his own policies of austerity, but to Labour’s over-spending which caused the recession. But Labour didn’t over-spend, and didn’t cause the recession – the bankers’ crash did that. The budget deficit in 2007 just before the crash was only 2.9%, below the OECD average, and only rose to 11.6% in 2010 because of the enormous bank bailouts. Even by the time of the election in 2010 the UK national debt had only risen to 77% of GDP which compared with 75% for Germany, 84% for France, and 93% for the US. Labour spending was not out of line with other lead countries.

Equally it is disingenuous for Osborne to claim that today’s diminishing incomes – the longest fall in wages since the 1870s and on average 9% down in real terms since pre-crash levels – owes nothing to his austerity programme and all to the recession. Of course the latter has had a major impact, but to pretend that £81bn of expenditure cuts and £18bn (and counting) of benefit cuts have not significantly exacerbated the downward pressure on incomes is absurd.

Third, “nor are we seeing”, the Chancellor has claimed, “a return to unsustainable levels of indebtedness and household borrowing”. Well, actually, we are. Frighteningly, household lending is just 0.3% below its 2008 peak, while lending to firms is now 22% lower and if account is taken of inflation it’s fallen by a stunning 32%. There is no other way of describing this except as unsustainable. At the same time it’s clear that another major housing bubble is well under way, driven by Osborne’s own Help to Buy scheme, with estate agents the fastest growing sector in the workforce. Debt-to-income ratios, previously falling, have now turned up again. Plainly the recovery, such as it is, is propelled by borrowing.  And an economy dependent on consumer debt together with low wages, weak investment and poor productivity is likely once again to slip back after an initial short burst of expansion.

Osborne’s last assertion was that “growth had been too concentrated in one corner of the country – and HS2 will transform the UK’s economic geography”. The former statement is certainly true, with any recovery heavily concentrated in London and the south-east. But HS2, even if it goes ahead with a price-tag heading north of £50bn, will not remotely produce the degree of economic rebalancing required. The country’s finance sector is still too large and dominant, while manufacturing is shrivelled well below its potential.

The UK cannot achieve a sustainable recovery until it can pay its way in the world, and despite a 25% depreciation of the currency over the last 5 years it still fails lamentably to do so. The UK has only had a surplus in traded goods six times in the last 55 years, and last year the deficit on traded goods was £106bn, equal to 7% of GDP. HS2 won’t conceivably solve a problem of these proportions – only a fundamental revival of the UK’s capabilities for high-tech manufacturing will achieve that.

British Chancellor of the Exchequer George Osbourne speaks during the Conservative Party Conference in Manchester. Image: Getty
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How Donald Trump is slouching towards the Republican nomination

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb.

In America, you can judge a crowd by its merchandise. Outside the Connecticut Convention Centre in Hartford, frail old men and brawny moms are selling “your Trump 45 football jerseys”, “your hats”, “your campaign buttons”. But the hottest item is a T-shirt bearing the slogan “Hillary sucks . . . but not like Monica!” and, on the back: “Trump that bitch!” Inside, beyond the checkpoint manned by the Transportation Security Administration and the secret service (“Good!” the man next to me says, when he sees the agents), is a family whose three kids, two of them girls, are wearing the Monica shirt.

Other people are content with the shirts they arrived in (“Waterboarding – baptising terrorists with freedom” and “If you don’t BLEED red, white and blue, take your bitch ass home!”). There are 80 chairs penned off for the elderly but everyone else is standing: guys in motorcycle and military gear, their arms folded; aspiring deal-makers, suited, on cellphones; giggling high-school fatsos, dressed fresh from the couch, grabbing M&M’s and Doritos from the movie-theatre-style concession stands. So many baseball hats; deep, bellicose chants of “Build the wall!” and “USA!”. (And, to the same rhythm, “Don-ald J!”)

A grizzled man in camouflage pants and combat boots, whose T-shirt – “Connecticut Militia III%” – confirms him as a member of the “patriot” movement, is talking to a zealous young girl in a short skirt, who came in dancing to “Uptown Girl”.

“Yeah, we were there for Operation American Spring,” he says. “Louis Farrakhan’s rally of hate . . .”

“And you’re a veteran?” she asks. “Thank you so much!”

Three hours will pass. A retired US marine will take the rostrum to growl, “God bless America – hoo-rah!”; “Uptown Girl” will play many more times (much like his speeches, Donald J’s playlist consists of a few items, repeated endlessly), before Trump finally looms in and asks the crowd: “Is this the greatest place on Earth?”

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb. Only a minority within a minority of Americans, it was assumed, could possibly be stupid enough to think a Trump presidency was a good idea. He won New Hampshire and South Carolina with over 30 per cent of the Republican vote, then took almost 46 per cent in Nevada. When he cleaned up on Super Tuesday in March, he was just shy of 50 per cent in Massachusetts; a week later, he took 47 per cent of the votes in Mississippi.

His rivals, who are useless individually, were meant to co-operate with each other and the national party to deny him the nomination. But Trump won four out of the five key states being contested on “Super-Duper Tuesday” on 15 March. Then, as talk turned to persuading and co-opting his delegates behind the scenes, Trump won New York with 60 per cent.

Now, the campaign is trying to present Trump as more “presidential”. According to his new manager, Paul Manafort, this requires him to appear in “more formal settings” – without, of course, diluting “the unique magic of Trump”. But whether or not he can resist denouncing the GOP and the “corrupt” primary system, and alluding to violence if he is baulked at at the convention, the new Trump will be much the same as the old.

Back in Hartford: “The Republicans wanna play cute with us, right? If I don’t make it, you’re gonna have millions of people that don’t vote for a Republican. They’re not gonna vote at all,” says Trump. “Hopefully that’s all, OK? Hopefully that’s all, but they’re very, very angry.”

This anger, which can supposedly be turned on anyone who gets in the way, has mainly been vented, so far, on the protesters who disrupt Trump’s rallies. “We’re not gonna be the dummies that lose all of our jobs now. We’re gonna be the smart ones. Oh, do you have one over there? There’s one of the dummies . . .”

There is a frenzied fluttering of Trump placards, off to his right. “Get ’em out! . . . Don’t hurt ’em – see how nice I am? . . . They really impede freedom of speech and it’s a disgrace. But the good news is, folks, it won’t be long. We’re just not taking it and it won’t be long.”

It is their removal by police, at Trump’s ostentatious behest, that causes the disruption, rather than the scarcely audible protesters. He seems to realise this, suddenly: “We should just let ’em . . . I’ll talk right over them, there’s no problem!” But it’s impossible to leave the protesters where they are, because it would not be safe. His crowd is too vicious.

Exit Trump, after exactly half an hour, inclusive of the many interruptions. His people seem uplifted but, out on the street, they are ambushed by a large counter-demonstration, with a booming drum and warlike banners and standards (“Black Lives Matter”; an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, holding aloft Trump’s severed head). Here is the rest of the world, the real American world: young people, beautiful people, more female than male, every shade of skin colour. “F*** Donald Trump!” they chant.

After a horrified split-second, the Trump crowd, massively more numerous, rallies with “USA!” and – perplexingly, since one of the main themes of the speech it has just heard was the lack of jobs in Connecticut – “Get a job!” The two sides then mingle, unobstructed by police. Slanging matches break out that seem in every instance to humiliate the Trump supporter. “Go to college!” one demands. “Man, I am in college, I’m doin’ lovely!”

There is no violence, only this: some black boys are dancing, with liquid moves, to the sound of the drum. Four young Trump guys counter by stripping to their waists and jouncing around madly, their skin greenish-yellow under the street lights, screaming about the building of the wall. There was no alcohol inside; they’re drunk on whatever it is – the elixir of fascism, the unique magic of Trump. It’s a hyper but not at all happy drunk.

As with every other moment of the Trump campaign so far, it would have been merely some grade of the cringeworthy – the embarrassing, the revolting, the pitiful – were Trump not slouching closer and closer, with each of these moments, to his nomination. 

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