Why Would The Government Want You to Panic?
This government continues to astound. Today, they have managed the impossible: to cause petrol shortages without any actual strike.
The height of incompetence some might argue – with some confidence. And, naturally, this is perfect diversion from the issue of the NHS, granny-tax and cash-for-access. But here comes another one of my silly questions.
Last quarter’s growth figure has just been downgraded by the Office of Budget Responsibility to -0.3%. The OBR said they “still expect the economy to avoid a technical recession with positive growth in the first quarter of 2012, although another fall cannot be ruled out given the volatility of quarterly output estimates.” Total growth for 2012 is expected to be a shaky 0.8%, so the first quarter’s figure is estimated to be minuscule.
The implications for this Government of having a second consecutive quarter of negative growth are gigantic. It puts the UK into “technical recession”. It, almost inevitably, would herald more weeks of miserable headlines.
So, in the last few days of this quarter, there may be more of an agenda in encouraging people to panic-buy everything from cigarettes, pasties and stamps to £2m properties. There may be a more obscure objective in advising every household to spend all their disposable income (or borrow from pay-day lenders). There may be more than meets the eye to frightening an entire country into filling up every tank of our 31m vehicles – plus a few cans in the garage for good measure.
If it means that growth for this quarter is nudged up into an anaemic positive figure and the broader economic incompetence of this shower of Monty Python characters is disguised, it will have been worth it. So what, if some plebeian is blown up in his garage while trying to heat his jumbo sausage roll with a blow-torch? They will be safely breaking bread in no.10 with their billionaire donors, safe and sound.
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UPDATE 29/3; 12:45 GMT
Today the OECD has predicted a possible double dip and estimated negative growth for Q1. The government has responded by saying that OECD have not taken latest data into consideration and that they’re confident OBR will show Q1 just about positive. I await the figures with interest.
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Cameron’s Statement [VIDEO] and Some Questions
Sometimes, quite randomly, the part of my brain that is still (and will probably always be) Lawyer, bursts into life. Have a look at this short, one-minute video of Cameron’s statement on the #CashForCameron affair. Does anything jump out at you?
So, here is what I would like to know.
1. Define “significant donors”.
2. Cameron states that he’s “known most of those attending for many years”. How about the rest?
3. Cameron states that “Peter Crudass has never recommended anyone to come to dinner” in his flat. But we know that Crudass was very new in his position. How about his predecessor?
4. How about venues other than his flat? Chequers? Maybe just a restaurant or the House of Commons…
But here is the one that really jumps out at me. DINNER. He mentions the word DINNER 7 (seven) times in 7 (seven) sentences. I encourage you to watch it again and see how the word is emphasised. I also note how this changes to ANY MEALS when talking about the future.
It is a fair assumption that the wording of this short statement will have been agonised over for many hours, by many people. We also know from the last time Cameron was forced to publish details of meetings, that Rupert Murdoch met with him over tea. If I were Ed Miliband, I would pay very, very close attention to whether this wording is replicated in Francis Maude’s statement to the House of Commons.
Is this DINNER significant DINNER? I don’t DINNER know. You must DINNER decide for yourselves DINNER. DINNER.
New Revelations in the #CashForCameron Affair
How much more transparency do you want?
The C-Word
corruption /kəˈrʌpʃ(ə)n/ [mass noun]: 1. dishonest or fraudulent conduct by those in power, typically involving bribery.
I am grateful to Peter Cruddas. I am grateful to him for unwittingly pulling off the sticky plaster and exposing this gaping political wound, about which many of us have been screaming – no pun intended – blue murder for a while.
If you are unaware of the chief fundraiser for the Tory party getting caught selling direct access to our Prime Minister and the no. 10 Policy Unit, you can read all about it and watch the video here.
There is a hair-raising symmetry to the story being broken by a Murdoch paper. After all, it is less than a year since Cameron was questioned in the House of Commons and, on nine separate occasions, failed to disclose whether he had discussed the BSkyB bid in private dinners with Rebekah Brooks and James Murdoch.
It also reignites the discussion about the lack of propriety involved in key political figures having financial interests in private Healthcare companies, including Health Secretary Andrew Lansley getting a private donation from one of them; and doing so on the eve of publishing a Bill, which would crack open the NHS like a pomegranate for the very same companies to peck at.
The Conservatives have been trying to empty a bucket of sand on the fire by claiming a) The chap was new; and b) The chap resigned. Sorry – that just doesn’t cut it.
The chap in question may have been new to the job of raising donations, but he is a very old hand in the business of making donations. According to Andrew Neil on BBC’s Sunday Politics, Mr Cruddas is the party’s third-biggest donor, having donated over £1.2 million. It stretches the limits of credulity to suggest that this is a naive “newbie” who knows not how donations work.
Further, let us consider the tiered system of donations, publicly advertised on the Conservative Party’s website. £10k will get you into The Renaissance Forum which includes the chance “to enjoy dinners and political debate with eminent speakers from the world of business and politics”. £25k grants membership to The Treasurers’ Group, which includes an invitation ”to join senior figures from the Conservative Party at dinners, lunches, drinks receptions”. For the princely sum of £50k you can be inside The Leader’s Group, members of which “are invited to join David Cameron and other senior figures from the Conservative Party at dinners”.
Why would anyone be surprised about the fact that a sum four or five times larger would get you even more benefits and a more intimate setting?
I am distinctly uninterested in excuses which point to transgressions of the distant past and go along the lines of “they were just as bad”. Firstly, getting elected on a ticket of “cleaning up politics” automatically surrenders the right to claim that the filth of the 90′s is an excuse for more filth in 2012. Secondly, as a citizen, I have every right to be most gravely concerned about unsavoury policy influence right now, involving those who have the power to make decisions; decisions which favour one business to the detriment of other businesses and the general public.
“These donations do not, in any way, affect policy” bleats David Cameron. This is a problematic position from the leader of a party which believes passionately in free market economics – and, by extension, in the idea that businesses make rational decisions based on their economic interest. Only a couple of months ago, he attacked the Leader of the Opposition in Parliament for being “in the pocket of the unions”. He equated the Labour Party’s dependence on unions to automatic undue influence.
Cameron must explain now, why the same is not true when it comes to his party. Or is the suggestion that one should be terribly worried about the influence of millions of unionised workers on the opposition, but not worried about rich individuals airing their policy concerns directly to the Prime Minister, in no.10 Downing Street, over a medium-rare fillet paid for by taxpayers.
The Ministerial Code, published by his own government only days after they took power, makes it crystal clear that a breach occurs not only when a conflict of interest arises, but when a minister puts themselves in a position which gives the appearance of a conflict. It states: “It is a well established and recognised rule that no Minister should accept gifts, hospitality or services from anyone which would, or might appear to, place him or her under an obligation“.
A quarter of a million is a hell of a gift. Cameron should explain why the Code does not apply to him.
And if he fails to do so, it is entirely justified to start using the C-word.
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Twitter and The Eggshell Skull Rule
Twitter goes on in parallel to real life. We all have good moments and bad moments.
There is a legal principle in Tort – “the eggshell skull rule” or “thin skull rule”. It stems from the hypothetical where person A knocks over person B and the victim turns out to have a rare condition which means the bone surrounding their head is extremely thin. B suffers disproportionate injury. The defendant A may argue that this was not “reasonably foreseeable”. This is rejected. Basically, you have to take your victim as you find it.
And so it is with twitter and a stranger’s mood. If you choose to message somebody you don’t know and offer a comment that could be construed as bitchy, crass, sarcastic, insensitive, discriminatory or offensive, there is a chance that:
a) the stranger might be an angry loon; or
b) the stranger might be (like me) usually patient and reasonable, but caught at a really bad moment.
Either way, as a result they might turn around to you and tell you, in no uncertain terms, to fuck off and die. The catalyst is still your comment – not their bad mood. I accept this risk when messaging a stranger. So should you.
My advice? Have a little look at their timeline, their biog… Try to assess whether this is a good moment. Test the water, maybe introduce yourself?
After all, it would never occur to you to eavesdrop in a stranger’s conversation in a pub, pull up a chair and explain to them why they’re an idiot. At least, not without an assessment of the percentile possibility they might smack you in the gob.
With love
Alex
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Beautiful Thing
Last night I observed a beautiful thing. I wanted to share it with you, since we’re surrounded by ugly.
I was walking down a fairly empty South London street. It was nearly midnight. Just in front of me, a rubbish compactor truck pulled over. Two men jumped off their floating platforms at the back and one from the passenger side up-front and started throwing bags into its gaping maw.
Then, like a well-rehearsed ballet, a man emerged from the 24hr corner shop. “Evening”, he said and handed one of the men a plastic bag with a couple of bottles of soft drink. The cook from the Chinese takeaway next door, showed up holding a couple of large food containers. “Thanks, Ann” said one of the men. The bakery appeared closed – blinds half-rolled down. A man crawled out from underneath and lobbed at them a paper bag brimming with jam doughnuts.
The rubbish collectors hardly broke their stride. The food and drink were stored at the front and within seconds the truck had disappeared round the corner.
I stood there, puzzled. I think I may have been smiling. Ann noticed me. She doesn’t know my name – to her I am “mixed vegetable noodles, extra spicy” – but she is fond of me all the same. “All right darling?”, she broke my trance. “Yeah. Fine… Thanks. Does this happen every night?”. She seemed amused by my ignorance. “Every night, sweetheart – and why not? Costs very little to be nice.”
The Big Society. No speeches; no fanfares; no empty rhetoric. Just a recognition of togetherness. Unrehearsed solidarity from one group of people, doing a shitty job for little money, to another.
Kindness is not expended. It is merely recycled.
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George Osborne’s Tax Policy, Explained
Any questions?
The Unkindest Cut of All
I have been following the debate on the much ballyhooed cut of the top rate of tax with interest. The people debating it seem terribly intelligent and represent august and entirely neutral organisations like the Taxpayers’ Alliance and the Institute of Directors. Who am I to butt in?
I am no expert on the subject. But I have listened to the discussion and I have a couple of questions. They may be naive – forgive me.
The arguments against the 50p rate of tax for a personal income above £150k a year were explored in the Mirrlees Review by the Institute of Fiscal Studies (for which you can purchase corporate membership here - a measly £10k a year secures you guest speaker status at their events).
Brittania on the 50 pence coin has adopted many of the characteristics of the ancient Greek goddess Athena. Her helmet, her olive branch - sadly, not her wisdom.
As summarised by Polly Curtis, the report suggests that a 50p rate of tax would encourage those subject to it to minimise the amount they pay by
• Changing the form of their remuneration.
• Contributing more to a pension (maximum of £40bn) or to charity.
• Converting income into capital gains.
• Setting themselves up as a company.
• Investing in tax avoidance.
• Leaving the country or not coming here in the first place
The suggestion is that people on a personal income of more than £150k a year only optimise their tax affairs and take such measures at the 50p rate. It is a magical elasticity figure. So, since the rate is 50p at the moment, they are doing all these things right now. It follows that, as soon as the rate is reduced to 40p, they will all (or many will) stop doing these things. Is this the argument, really? REALLY?
I know several people on such incomes. They all employ terribly talented accountants whose sole mission is to explore ways to minimise the tax their clients pay.What is being advanced here is the absolutely incredible suggestion that, if the rate is reduced, rich people will turn to their accountants and say “don’t bother any more”.
No explanation is offered as to why during the 9 out of 11 years of Thatcher, when the top rate of tax was 60p to the pound, the country’s tax receipts did not go into spectacular collapse. Indeed it is never mentioned.
No discussion strays into an exploration of the incredibly advantageous corporate tax regime in this country – which an amateur like me might think provides an incentive for these captains of industry to be based here.
No comparison is offered to tax regimes internationally, many of which are displaying an appetite for taxing the rich post-2008. These people will simply up and go “somewhere else”. Bali-Hai, perhaps.
Instead we hear a lot about wealth-creation and trickle-down effects. Please note – the same effects do not apply to the poor. Someone on £160k a year is likely to put the grand they would save with a 40p rate back into the UK economy; to create wealth and trickle it down. But if one were to increase the benefits of somebody on the breadline by a grand – well… they are likely to squirrel it away under their wife’s name (who luckily resides in Monaco).
The argument, stripped down to its bare bones, seems to be “if you try to tax the rich, they are likely to work harder to avoid it, so let’s not bother”. An argument which our Chancellor, apparently, takes fully on board.
The Capital’s Real Menace
Some days ago, Simon Jenkins published an article in the London Evening Standard entitled “Tally ho! Hunt down the capital’s vulpine menace”. In it he explained:
“London’s small gardens are infested. In mine, pigeons so fat their legs can hardly support them roll about on the steps. Parakeets squawk in the trees. Grey squirrels munch their way through rose buds and strip clematis. Mice trot this way and that, leaving little trails of droppings. Foxes treat garden sheds as free bed and breakfast.“
To Simon Jenkins, the council’s careful advice on how to deter the fox from making its home in his expensive Holland Park garden was outrageous. He was bemused when the person suggested he could urinate near his shed, as that would get rid of the fox easily and humanely. He demanded extermination. His own suggestion was “strychnine and two barrels of a shotgun”. He fantasised about a full-on hunt in Holland Park.
Rarely have I seen a more eloquent, if unwitting, expression of the sense of entitlement the rich of this land feel; their refusal to share the planet with other living creatures. He might as well add “benefit scroungers” and “pretend disabled” to that list and sound the horn.
Like every truly stupid story in the Standard, it was accompanied by a truly stupid picture. The photo below appeared with the byline: “FEARLESS: An urban fox scurries past the entrance to Southwark Crown Court in broad daylight”
I will limit myself to pointing out that this is the cleanest, fluffiest fox I have ever seen in my local borough of Southwark; that it does not cast a shadow (like the guard behind it does); that it is in perfect focus when equidistant parts of the pavement are not; and finally that its reflection in the glass is not a mirror image (note the hind legs, which should be reflected the opposite way). You can draw your own conclusions.
If the veracity of this pictorial is anything to go by, perhaps like everything else in the Standard, the story was entirely made up. Perhaps Simon Jenkins didn’t call about a fox and the council didn’t tell him to urinate near the shed. Perhaps he called about a cat and the council told him to piss off.
Of course, this is not Jenkins’ first foray into thoughtless idiocy. He was outraged when it was suggested that he should improve his security after he has been burgled, describing it as “locking the door after the horse has bolted” - as if nobody gets burgled more than once. He was outraged by the occupy movement, which he described as “not a proper protest”. He was outraged by suggestions that privatising the police may, just possibly, be a bad idea.
His rants fit perfectly within the Evening Standard’s ultra-right-wing, illiberal, illiterate agenda. (I always note with amusement how differently he occasionally writes for the Guardian.)
And this is the more serious point: Having destroyed its competition and secured the much-coveted, single-paper distribution spots inside underground stations, the London Evening Standard is essentially a monopoly; a sole voice shouting “Vote Boris” five evenings a week; a monotonous white noise telling us that the only important square mile in our city in the Square Mile of The City. This election leaflet, thrust into my hands on a daily basis, is much more annoying and offensive than any urban fox.
I, for one, have decided to stop mechanically picking up the damn thing, just because it is free. I urge you to do the same.
We need to talk about Ivan
I beg your indulgence. Resist the urge to take the understandable, but impetuous, position that a dead child should not be the subject of conversation in any context. Hear me out.
Ivan Reginald Ian was born in April 2002. He was diagnosed with Ohtahara Syndrome – a rare and debilitating combination of cerebral palsy and epilepsy. After an all-too-brief life of six years, Ivan died at St Mary’s in Paddington in 2009. Ivan was six. He was also the son of the soon-to-be Prime Minister, David Cameron.
I remember vividly the first time I felt an uncomfortable knot in my stomach about Ivan. I was thumbing through a copy of the Guardian and came across an article in which Cameron explained how his experience with Ivan had given him a passion and love for the NHS and the professionals within it. It was accompanied by this picture:
And then, a few days later, something began to gnaw at my insides, like a carrion beetle, when I saw this picture in another paper:
A few days later, in another publication this:
Then this:
Something highly unnatural about the poses, about the way Ivan is turned towards the camera, as is his father… Something about the different shots – the protagonists are wearing the same outfits, are similarly framed, but some are indoors and some outdoors. Everything had the feel of a “photo opportunity” – not a family portrait.
I tried to be open to friends who asked “would you rather they hid the child away in shame?”. But there was something interesting about both the timing and tone of this – pitched like a curiosity tent in the middle of an election circus. What about the other side in that election?
I am no fan of Gordon Brown, but credit ought to go where it is due. The man is partly blind, he and his wife lost a child only days after she was born, then had another diagnosed with cystic fibrosis. There was no denial; no attempt to hide away the facts; no shame. But there was also no feeding the media in order to boost likeability – and, heaven knows, Brown needed it. There was stoicism. There was dignity.
I tried to dismiss my extreme discomfort with the way Ivan was being used, at least in my subjective judgement. I tried to convince myself that this was my own cynicism talking; my political dislike of conservatism; my shameful, selfish awkwardness and guilt at being confronted with disability.
Unfortunately the pattern continued, even after his death. There were photographs from the funeral, which did not appear “papped”. There were pictures at assorted memorials, taken by the Camerons’ official photographer, engineered to engender sympathy or even pity. There were visits to hospices sponsored by OK! Magazine.
Last week David Cameron referred to baby Ivan during Prime Minister’s Questions again. It was the sixth or seventh time he has done so, either obliquely or directly, in response to difficult questions about the NHS or welfare or disability benefits. Occasionally Cameron is baited into it. He must rise above such occasions. Occasionally, however, the mention is defensive and entirely unprompted.
In last week’s PMQs Cameron was asked by Dame Joan Ruddock about cutting the benefits to one of her constituents - a 10-year-old girl with cerebral palsy. In his response he denied that the benefits available to disabled children were being cut (a distinct untruth with regard to new claimants as explained in this factcheck) and continued: “As someone who has actually filled out the form for disability allowance and had a child with cerebral palsy, I know how long it takes to fill in that form.”
No reference to the girl about whom the question was; no offer to look into her case; no attempt to answer the question. Only an out-of-context reference to Cameron’s dead child, offered as irrefutable proof that his reforms must be right and implied rebuke for daring to question them.
We always complain that our politicians are out of touch. What is the objection about a Prime Minister using his personal experience to help shape policy? No objection. But policy consists of words put into action. When the action is distinctly contrary to the words, it is not policy. It is hypocrisy.
He has presided over an unprecedented, concerted campaign against the NHS. So much so, that the very unit in which his child died is threatened with closure. To do this while citing his personal experiences to silence his critics, is unspeakably wicked.
To stand there, at the dispatch box, and invoke his plight as the parent of a disabled child, then minutes later announce the closure of 36 Remploy factories (not via a statement by the relevant minister, but by placing a letter in the library) is utterly cowardly.
The net result? A conversation about Ivan in which nobody dares speak up for Ivan. A muted debate, in which the interests of children like him are not fully represented in our Parliament.
I have every sympathy for David Cameron as a parent. I also have a right to demand the highest standards of him as a Prime Minister. The two concepts are not incompatible. It should not be taboo to say so.
Each time, the spectre of that poor child is raised like an invincible shield by his own father, each time his memory is drop-kicked into a political minefield – knowing that nobody will dare touch it – debate is silenced and legitimate questions about these reforms go unanswered.
It is not only inappropriate. It is distasteful and immoral.
