July 2024 – thinking liberal

National finances don’t work like household budgets. That doesn’t help Labour

Government finances are under water. OK, a weak link but I’m bored of AI images and public domain photos. Bosham in Chichester Harbour this weekend, by my own hand.

Taxation and public spending is very much on the political agenda here in Britain. The Chancellor of the Exchequer, Rachel Reeves, is claiming that there is a £22 billion black hole of unfunded spending commitments in the government finances, left by a Conservative government addicted to brushing problems under the carpet. There is much talk of how her Labour government might raise taxes to plug this hole and meet expectations of improvements to public services and the social safety net.

This makes it a good time to ponder the economics of all this. Public debate encourages us to think of the state’s finances in terms of a household budget: public spending must be covered by taxes, or else the national debt gets out of control, which in due course could mean throwing the country to the mercy of foreign creditors, or burden future generations. This narrative has the merit of being easy to communicate and sounding like common sense. Try telling voters that this is not how things work, and they will immediately become suspicious. The US Republicans, to my knowledge, are the only politicians to have succeeded with a different narrative: the so-called “Laffer curve”, whereby tax cuts pay for themselves through economic growth. Former British Prime Minister Liz Truss tried this out on the British public in 2022, but it went very badly. Her supporters argue that his was actually through bad luck – but most politicians now treat the idea of “unfunded” tax cuts or spending commitments as politically toxic, as well as economically unwise.

The Laffer curve is in fact just one argument against the household budget narrative – but it is not a huge departure from it. Households may borrow to invest, so states should be able to so as well. If a budget deficit leads to a future increase in revenues, or lower costs, then surely it is sustainable? Labour tried to make this case with a proposal for massive investment in clean energy infrastructure – but lost their nerve as the general election loomed. Joe Biden’s administration is actually implementing such a programme in America, but the public there are resolutely sceptical. You have to believe that the future benefits are for real – and the public is generally unbelieving. Not without reason, as the processes of accountability are weak.

A further, and well-established, argument against the household budget narrative might be called the Keynesian critique. This follows the argument originally put forward by the great economist Maynard Keynes, after stringent budgeting by governments during the Great Depression of the 1930s made things worse. If there is spare capacity in the economy – a typical feature of recessions – then it makes sense for the government to run a deficit to raise demand and employ unemployed workers, creating a virtuous circle of growth – and stopping a potential doom-loop of savings leading to reduced demand leading to further savings. Governments should use taxes and spending to help manage overall demand, to ensure that the economy runs at an efficient level of capacity. This idea is very popular on the political left, who generally assume that the economy is always working below capacity – but it is not always easy to tell if there is spare capacity. Many people thought that high unemployment in the 1970s meant that there was spare capacity then – but generous fiscal policy simply seemed to stoke inflation – “stagflation”. In fact the escalating price of oil, amongst other things, meant that the economy was in a period of transition, which caused the high levels of unemployment without a ready supply of potential new jobs. I thought something similar was happening in Britain after the great financial crisis of 2007-2009 – and that this was the justification for the 2010 coalition government’s austerity policies (which were rejected by the left with religious fervour). The pre-crash economy had been too dependent on fake gains in financial services and related business services, meaning that it wasn’t just a case of managing aggregate demand, but allowing for a degree of restructuring, which takes longer. I don’t think anybody else made that argument. Supporters of austerity used versions of the household budget narrative, while most economists said that austerity was the wrong policy because aggregate demand was weak. I still think I was right – though by 2015 the case for further austerity had largely gone, meaning that further cuts made by the Conservative government from that year were excessive.

A final critique of the household budget narrative is made most prominently by advocates of Modern Monetary Theory (MMT). They point out that where countries control their own money supply (which is the case for Britain and America, though not the Eurozone), then they don’t need to worry about the national debt, because they can just create the money to fund it. This, in fact, is exactly what many governments did during the period of Quantitive Easing (QE) in the 2010s. For some reason, MMT is regarded as heterodox economics, and its advocates akin to heretics by conventional economists. I have never entirely understood this – it has always seemed to be a matter of politics rather than substance. Some MMT advocates delight in attacking orthodox economics, not always with secure logic, and this no doubt creates a backlash. Nevertheless MMT economists such as Stephanie Kelton produce well-argued work which is thought-provoking in a good way (this article in the FT gives a flavour). The central proposition is that the limiting factor for fiscal policy is inflation, not debt. While inflation in the developed world appeared dead and buried in the 2010s, MMT became popular on the left, as it suggested that large budget deficits were sustainable, supporting their argument that austerity policies were primarily “ideological”. In the 2020s, with inflation back in the picture, we don’t hear so much about MMT, though their analysis remains just as valid. My personal scepticism of MMT is that its advocates don’t tend to think enough about the difficulties of managing a small open economy, which has to manage its economic relations with other economies (and exchange rate policy in particular) – a situation that fits the British economy more than the American one.

What all these insights point to that there are two important constraints to fiscal policy rather than simply whether there is enough money: inflation and foreign debt (if we accept the MMT argument that domestic debt isn’t a problem if inflation is under control). Low inflation is central to a country’s feeling of economic wellbeing. I would suggest that maintaining the value of the currency is one of the sacred duties of the state – and governments play fast and loose with this at their peril – though most liberal economists are more relaxed about this. And foreign debt can interfere badly with a sense of national sovereignty. The reason that the recent left-wing Mexican president Manuel Lopez Obrador was so keen on limiting government expenditure was exactly that: a fear of foreign debt (and an example of how austerity is not always a matter of right wing ideology). Where governments have dormant inflation and little need for foreign debt (through a current account surplus), then budget deficits can run wild – this is the case with Japan, for example. In Britain things are considerably trickier. The country now has an inflation problem, and a long persistent current account deficit, which complicates managing the national debt. It is hard to know how much of a constraint the latter problem actually is. It hasn’t been tested to destruction since the 1970s (if you discount the Truss episode), when the government called in the IMF, though some suggest this was just political theatre. The country has had no trouble in financing itself from abroad in its own currency. The country’s dependence “on the kindness of strangers” is a popular scare story put up by officials of the Treasury and the Bank of England to keep politicians in their place. And yet, like inflation in the early 2020s, you don’t know if you’ve gone over the limit until it’s too late. It was a debt problem that did for Ms Truss’s bid for freedom, after all. That was a dislocation in the domestic debt market because of some technical issues with pension fund financing. I have oversimplified things by referring to “foreign” debt – but the presence of foreign investors affects the disciplines required across the whole market. That episode showed that management of the national debt has to be strategic – it is not a simple matter of ramping up a budget deficit and seeing what happens.

Meanwhile, I suspect that inflation in Britain remains a serious problem, in spite of the headline rate returning to 2%. In the public sector the government is no longer able to resist above-inflation payrises: you can only defy the market for so long – this is a large part of Ms Reeves’s black hole. That may ripple through to the wider labour market, as the previous government feared. Meanwhile there is enormous political pressure to reduce levels of immigration – and it isn’t just politics: high rental and property prices, in part driven by immigration, is causing serious hardship, and disappointed expectations amongst younger people. Politicians talk of encouraging a high-wage high-productivity economy, not dependent on cheap immigrant labour, and it might be that the country is in transition to just such a destination. But all economic transitions involve bumpy rides, and inflation is often part of that journey. That matters because under the country’s current economic governance, the Bank of England will not reinstitute QE, and make government debt easier to swallow, when there is a threat of inflation. And while reforming economic governance might be a good idea, in the short term it would carry a heavy risk of the destabilisation of financial markets.

So, with a clear menace of inflation, and more difficult markets for government debt, the government is likely to have to raise taxes. And here politics has created a further problem. Easily the most effective taxes are Income Tax, National Insurance and Value Added Tax. These are effective because they have a large base, meaning that small percentage increases have a big impact, and because they have the most direct impact on aggregate demand, helping the management of inflation. And yet Labour has ruled out increasing these taxes (other than through the “stealth tax” of freezing tax-free allowances). There was, in fact, a political consensus on that policy: no party is suggesting that there should be any increases – which is seen to add hardship to those already suffering from higher inflation. That leaves various flavours of capital taxes or wealth taxes. These have the political advantage of primarily affecting the better off, but they help with the national debt rather than inflation – their impact on demand is limited. And they are often evaded by people with tax advisers. That is the big problem with the idea, popular on the left, that increased state spending can be financed just by taxing the rich – such a policy would be inflationary and likely to underperform its targets.

Something has to give. The government will struggle on with continued austerity and increasing some fringe taxes, hoping for a growth bump. But growth is bound to disappoint, inflation will refuse to die, and interest rates will remain uncomfortably high. One commentator has written that it will not be until a second term that Labour will start to seriously address how the country manages the state – through some combination of higher (and doubtless reformed) taxes and reduced state ambition. If the Conservatives remain in a mess, that may become politically feasible. Up until now Sir Keir Starmer’s aim has been to secure an election victory, and to impose a more serious style of political governance. That is a start but it is not enough.

Time to get used to the idea of Trump’s return

Back in 2021 it had seemed impossible for Donald Trump to return to the White House. Even in 2022 it seemed that his brand was diminished – as candidates he endorsed did badly in Congressional elections. But we should have known better. For the first time in his political career, the man looks unstoppable. We must now think what many of us liberals had thought unthinkable: he will be President again.

Pretty much everybody I know regards the prospect of a repeat Trump presidency with horror, including a handful of Americans. Some Britons do like Trump, but most treat him as a bit of a joke – a caricature of the worst American stereotypes, and transparently narcissistic. This country has had enough of un-serious politicians after the chaotic period of Boris Johnson’s ministry, and his successors’ indulgence in gesture politics. It is one reason that Sir Keir Starmer’s popularity ratings are now high – seriousness is his most demonstrable virtue. You don’t have to be a liberal here in order to dislike Trump.

But it is clearly different in America. The first way that Mr Trump has been able to make a comeback is that he has fired up a supporter base that has enabled him to take over the Republican Party. He has made short work of his rivals, and any Republican law-maker that doesn’t pay homage to him will have their careers quickly terminated. Mr Trump has been able to forge a special bond with this supporters. He plays on their sense of grievance, and the feeling that the political establishment despises them (which they often do…). This seems is intuitive – I have called him a right-brained genius – following the once-fashionable idea that people are a product of a rational left brain and an emotional and instinctive right one. The irony is that this idea was promoted by liberal types to suggest that Western culture was excessively left-brained and destroying the world – and that the world needed more right-brained thinking. Alas this analysis turned out to be too left-brained.

The interesting thing about Mr Trump’s genius is that other conservative politicians have been unable to replicate it. Ultimately they are too calculating and they can’t hide it, and that undermines their authenticity. That fate has befallen Florida Governor Ron De Santis, once billed as being more dangerous, because more rational. We will have to see how Mr Trump’s Vice Presidential pick JD Vance works out. He is clearly a calculating man, but he gets much closer to his boss’s rhetoric than Mr De Santis did – and his empathy with white working class Americans is authentic.

The second reason for Mr Trump’s comeback lies with the current President, Joe Biden. He did well to beat Mr Trump in 2020 – and he has been highly effective in office. Too effective, perhaps. A narrow victory in a campaign that was mainly about the fitness for office of his opponent was not a mandate for many of the radical measures that he brought forward. There were two particular problems. The first was that inflation got out of hand on his watch. Some of the blame may lie with the fiscal generosity of his predecessor, and some arose from international events – but Mr Biden threw in plenty of fiscal generosity of his own. Inflation is now back under control (apparently) but it has left deep scars in its wake, notably with interest rates still high, and petrol prices over 20% higher than in his first year of office. Mr Biden’s supporters like to paint a rosy picture of their man’s economic achievements – but no amount of aggregrate economic statistics can mitigate the pain that many American people have gone through. The second major problem is the chaotic scenes on the border. Now I haven’t been following that particular issue closely, and it is clearly being hyped up by the Republicans – but there does seem to have been a lack of focus by the Biden administration in its attempts to play a number of competing interests.

And then there was the question of Mr Biden’s lack of physical fitness for office. His disastrous debate performance with Mr trump only confirmed what many people had suspected. As I write, he has now thankfully bowed out – but only after an obstinate period of denial. His likely replacement candidate is the Vice President, Kamala Harris. She doesn’t get a very good press (though how justified that is I find hard to assess). My feeling is that she would do a better job than Biden of mobilising the Democrat base, especially younger voters, but will struggle with neutral voters. But the Democrats campaign has lost momentum, and will need to be completely reset.

I don’t think Mr Trump’s survival of the assassination attempt will make more than a marginal difference. It gave him some momentum at a useful time, which doubtless helped bring some donations in. But he and his party reverted to type so quickly afterwards that surely few voters will be swayed.

Mr Trump still has those two big points in his favour: the economy and the border. For some reason many American voters, even those who are otherwise sceptical of Mr Trump, think that he is a better bet for managing both issues than whoever the Democrats throw up. In the case of the economy, that’s a bit bizarre. He plans to raise prices for ordinary Americans by imposing tariffs, while reducing taxes for the better off by adding to the national debt. Reducing immigration, if he succeeds, may make things worse by raising inflation – though it could help lower-paid workers. Still, the idea that a businessman is well-placed to manage the economy a strong one in America. And if Mr Trump’s record as a businessman is a flawed one, years of starring in The Apprentice have clearly impressed many Americans.

And as for the threat Mr Trump poses to American institutions, many Americans clearly don’t think he will be that bad in practice – and perhaps those institutions have been corrupted anyway. The only criminal convictions that Mr Trump has so far suffered were from a distinctly dubious case legally, giving some substance to Mr Trump’s accusations of “lawfare” against him. Other cases may be stronger but the American judiciary has played along with his efforts to kick them into the long grass. Mr Trump has never made himself out to be a saint, even if he sometimes claims to be an instrument of God.

So what are the consequences for us Europeans if Mr Trump succeeds? The most serious is the war in Ukraine. Most European leaders want wear the Russians down, and force them to conclude the war on terms that they cannot paint as victory – and so weakening their threat. They hope that Mr Trump can be manoeuvred into supporting this – but they know it is unlikely. More likely is that he will force Ukraine into a ceasefire. Russia is then likely to regroup and rearm – although it is possible that the enormous cost of the war will start to rebound on Vladimir Putin’s regime. The European powers will have to reorganise their defences, and reduce their dependence on US weaponry.

Economically the main threat is Mr Trump’s proposed tariff regime – but the main economic damage is likely to be wrought on the Americans themselves, and then their neighbours in the Americas and Asia. But it is unlikely to help Europe’s struggling economies – hastening the awkward political choices that permanent low growth will entail.

A difficult four years beckon. It may not come to that, of course. The last month or so have already shown how fast politics can move. Mr Trump seems to have taken his recent successes as as justifying his continued focus on his base – rather than softening his image to appeal to uncommitted votes. If his opponents can succeed in making the threat of a Trump regime look less abstract – by focusing on concrete issues like abortion, rather abstract ones like “democracy” and “the rule of law”, and if their candidate looks properly presidential, more sceptical voters can be persuaded to vote him down. Perhaps, even, he will go too far and look start looking more dangerously deranged, even to some of his erstwhile supporters. We have been hoping for that for eight years, though, and nothing he does seems to faze his base.

Americans will do what Americans will do. We in Europe will just have to live with whatever they choose to do. That’s democracy, I’m afraid.

Postscript: 23 July

The news that Joe Biden was withdrawing broke while I was finishing the article. Anxious to publish, I edited it without changing the overall thrust. But the whole dynamic of the contest seems to have changed. Kamala Harris has launched her campaign built up real momentum – it looks as if she will be chosen without contest. The Trump campaign seems to have been wrong-footed. They have no shortage of attack lines on Ms Harris, whom they despise as much as her boss. But the main ones look weaker than the focus on mr Biden’s capacity, while the Democrats have some attack opportunities of their own: capacity issues can be turned back on Trump, and maybe they will even get a chance to attack some of Mr Trump’s policies – like his disastrous looking economic ideas. Alas Ms Harris’s early attack lines seem to focus on Mr Trump’s criminality and lack of moral fibre. That’s old news and won’t sway many, surely. Matt Goodwin, who had been predicting a Trump landslide, meanwhile rushed out an article suggesting that Ms Harris is an even more hopeless candidate than Mr Biden.

It will be a couple of weeks before we see if Ms Harris is making a serious impact on Mr Tump’s lead. American voters have a way of bringing me down to earth, so my wiser self is saying that the main thrust of my article still stands – even if my optimistic self thinks that the spring in the step that Ms Harris is showing must have some sort of positive effect.

The growth genie is not under government control

What do British Prime Ministers Sir Keir Starmer and Liz Truss have in common? The Labour leader defines himself as a complete contrast to his disastrous predecessor but one. But both made economic growth central to their political programmes. If that leads to a focus on economic efficiency, then this is doubtless a good thing. But the truth is that we are keen on growth as a way of avoiding hard choices.

Recently, writing in the Financial Times, the Oxford economist Daniel Susskind pointed out that economic growth has become the universal panacea for politicians, but that the political focus on it is comparatively recent. Indeed I think the political focus on growth statistics, including in the BBC news, is overdone. The voting public does not pay much attention to the statistical updates. The balance between income and expenses, the ability of governments to fund public services and welfare, and the state of the job market – these impact much more directly on peoples’ lives. All of these are supposed to be driven by growth, and yet the relationship is complicated. Nevertheless growth drives so much of the conversation amongst political elites that we need to ponder it.

But, as Mr Susskind points out, economic growth is poorly understood. Growth emerges from the actions of millions of individuals all working to their own priorities. Attempts to drive economic development (much the same thing, but with a longer history of political focus) by government fiat has led to some of the worst man-made disasters in history. Mao Zedong’s policy of collectivisation and the “Great Leap Forward” in China in the 1950s led to the biggest mass starvation event in history, followed by utter stagnation. Conversely Deng Xiaoping’s reversal of Mao’s policies in 1978 led to the most astonishing and important period of economic growth and development in world history. The simple act of letting farmers grow what they wanted and sell their produce on the open market boosted food production several times over.

Attempts to understand growth and develop policy have tended to focus on the supply side of the economy. That includes Mr Susskind – who homes in on innovation, which improves productivity. Sir Keir talks of investment doing much the same thing, and also the creation of more houses to allow people to move where the jobs are (or at least I think that’s a large part of why he includes housing in his growth agenda – although in truth he has shown little evidence of a grasp of economic policy). Ms Truss’s idea was to reduce taxes to provide businesses and workers with greater incentives to work harder.

But this misses something: the demand side matters too. There’s no point in producing more products or services if people don’t want to consume them. Mao’s strategy in the Great Leap Forward was to produce more iron in village smelters – but there was little use for the poor-quality metal that resulted. There is an underlying assumption that people will always consume more if they can – they are simply limited by the income they can earn from working. Of course economists know things aren’t as simple as this. People with higher incomes tend to spend a lower proportion of their income (leading to the rather more complicated question about saving, investment and growth). People may choose leisure, such as early retirement, which limits the supply of labour and often restrains demand.

And then, when you think about it, things get more complicated still. Once people have enough money to meet their basic needs, they often want to spend the surplus to signal social status. By and large this is done by buying things that are not made efficiently (hand-stitched bags, etc.) or services that require prodigious amounts of labour (personal trainers rather than fitness classes), reducing economic efficiency.

And then what about sustainability? Intensive farming delights economists because it maximises productivity. But it kills the soil, making it harder and harder to use it to produce anything of worth – and requiring ever more inputs of fertilisers, etc, which in turn create further environmental damage.

A further complicating factor is that the growth of the information economy means that the relationship between demand and supply is more complicated. Demand for information (including such things as music and video entertainment) can be met with little impact on production.

All of this raises two questions. The most obvious is whether growth is actually such a good thing. This is the basis of Green scepticism of growth. People’s basic needs must be met, of course, but beyond this we need to think about quality of life and sustainability. There are plenty of people whose basic needs aren’t being met, even in advanced economies like Britain’s – but dealing with poverty looks to be much more a problem of income distribution than the aggregate income across society. The United States has the largest income per head of any major economy – and yet strikingly high levels of poverty too. But economic efficiency is a good thing, provided proper account is taken of “externalities” (environmental damage, etc.). In principle it gives people more choices over their lives. Inasmuch as growth is simply our society becoming more economically efficient, then it is a good thing. If it destroys the planet or merely speeds up a treadmill of drudgery and pointless competition, then not so much.

The second question is more interesting. What if people, through the revealed preferences of their freely-made choices, don’t actually want growth? Growth is a popular idea, provided somebody else does all the work. But perhaps you would just like a nice place in the country and watch the world go by, rather than set your sights on ever more possessions or a frenetic succession of “experiences”. Growth, or the potential for it, emerges from the zeitgeist. In 1978 China, with so many people on the edge of starvation, it is easy to see why this zeitgeist was massively positive for growth. But in 2020s Britain?

Actually in 2024 Britain there are signs of a positive zeitgeist for growth – as many people complain about the cost of living. Sir Keir’s government may well be fortunate for a year or two. But the zeitgeist could turn – and we’d be back to swimming in treacle. And that would pose awkward questions for the sustainability of public services and the social safety net. Politicians and the public need to be focusing on these hard questions, and not just hoping that the growth genie will make them go away.

Ukraine: boiling the frog

Viewsridge, CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

It is more than a year since I last posted on the war in Ukraine. That was May 2023, just before the Ukrainian counteroffensive got underway. That post stands the test of time reasonably well. The general mood now in the West is pessimistic and I think the war is heading towards the unstable frozen conflict that I envisaged then.

Since last May the Ukrainian counteroffensive came and went. Some advances were made, but it was a strategic failure. Recriminations continue, but the bigger truth is that the Russian army proved much more adept in defence than attack. Last May I wondered how robust the Russian army would be, given how the scale of its losses earlier in the war had weakened their army. Now we know. Before the offensive, the BBC had made much of the “game-changing” influence of modern tanks, such as the Leopard and Challenger. Alas not so. There was also a big push for F-16 fighter aircraft. These were promised but are still not operational – though they are supposed to be arriving soon. As autumn approached a crisis developed over the next tranche of US aid, which got stuck in the House of Representatives. This did not get resolved until 2024. Meanwhile supplies of ammunition dried up, severely constraining Ukraine’s war effort, and allowing the Russians to take the initiative. They crept forward in Donetsk and then switched to Kharkiv, where Ukraine’s defences were weaker, and they make comparatively rapid advances. But Ukraine rushed in reinforcements and the front stabilised. Russia continues to inch forward in some areas, but Ukraine is now able to push them back on occasion. Meanwhile Russia has intensified its aerial bombardment of Ukrainian infrastructure, including the use of glider bombs, which Ukraine finds hard to counter. Ukraine has had successes too, as it increasingly attacks targets in Russia. Occupied Crimea has come under particular pressure, as has Russia’ oil refining capacity.

What are we learning from this? Russia’s immense losses of personnel, and expenditure of ammunition, continue, but this seems to be sustainable. The economy has been reoriented to supplying munitions, and additional supplies have come from North Korea. China is playing a critical role, albeit without explicitly supplying lethal materials. But Russia still seems unable to deliver a large-scale, coordinated offensive. It makes frequent and costly small-scale attacks, pushing the front back gradually, and placing Ukraine under relentless pressure. It is also making progress in drone tactics and countermeasures, and in its aerial attacks. In many respects the Russian war effort is highly sophisticated – even if it struggles in some basic military tasks. Russia is honing a sophisticated war machine, with a deep knowledge of modern warfare. It would be a formidable opponent to NATO, should it attack the Baltic nations, for example.

The big question is how long Western support for Ukraine will continue. It is now probable that Donald Trump will retake the US presidency in January 2025. He is a Ukraine sceptic – though nobody really knows what he would do in office. European governments are under growing pressure from the populist right, for whom the war does not seem a priority. The Russian strategy seems to be to keep up the gradual pressure on the front line and Ukrainian infrastructure, and to wait for Ukraine’s allies to force it into talks based on territorial concessions.

So it is not hard to see why Western media, and BBC correspondents in particular, seem to be generally gloomy. But they are often wrong. They expected Russia to win easily in February 2022; then they expected the Ukrainian counteroffensive, aided by those tanks, to make substantial gains. More recently, they have exaggerated the threat posed by Russia’s offensive on Kharkiv. The BBC’s senior foreign correspondent Jeremy Bowen, in particular, recently delivered a gloomy report from the Kharkiv front suggesting that the Russian advance was ongoing, well after the front had in fact stabilised. We are seeing the stresses on the Ukrainian side, but we see few of those on the Russian one. Western weaponry is flowing again, and we can expect the pressure on Russia to grow in the coming six months. But it is hard to see that Ukraine will be in a position push the Russians back in any substantial way, although they could provoke crisis for Russia in Crimea by damaging its logistical infrastructure.

Incidentally, I have found the best reporting to come from The Economist. The BBC gives you no more than a flavour of the journalistic zeitgeist along with some eye-catching stories – which seems to be all it seeks to do in all its news reporting (Gaza and the British election are other cases in point). My other source is the regular updates from the American tank tank, the Institute for the Study of War. But this has degenerated into mainly a stilted account of Russia’s “information operations” with little broad perspective.

My guess is that, if Mr Trump wins, there will be a ceasefire early in 2025 based on the front lines as they then stand, followed by peace talks. The latter will go nowhere. Both sides will prepare for a resumption of hostilities, but will be under growing pressure not to do so. If Mr Trump fails to win, then this process will take much longer.

Western strategy to oppose Russia seems to be to “boil the frog”. If you make the water too hot too quickly, the frog jumps out – or in this case resorts to nuclear escalation. But increase the temperature gradually and it will eventually succumb. (Incidentally, I have no idea whether the frog and boiling water metaphor has any basis in fact… A frog did get into our kitchen yesterday, but I released it back into the wild rather than try to investigate that question). The war may become increasingly untenable in Russia, as its impact on daily life grows, and in the absence of tangible benefit. Vladimir Putin’s position might then become untenable, perhaps after part of the front line collapses through a breakdown in military discipline.

Well, maybe. It is more likely that a ceasefire will happen, with Ukraine losing a substantial part of its territory, followed by a frozen conflict that might erupt at a future date. Either way, the prospects are grim.

Britain’s politics is a function of its electoral system

The changed electoral map. Source: the Liberal Democrats

It was a dull election campaign but an earthquake of a result – not less significant for it having been widely predicted. Above all it shows just how much the country’s electoral system dictates its politics. That is how Labour won, and that is how they will stay in power.

I resisted the temptation to update my electoral predictions last week, as I didn’t have much more to add. If I had I would have talked up the Greens a bit, and also predicted that Jeremy Corbyn would win his seat of Islington North – notwithstanding a very dodgy local poll saying that he was well behind. I sensed that as people became more assured of a substantial Labour victory, with even the Tories saying so, that left-leaning voters, unenthused by the party’s relentless centrism, would vote for alternatives. The Tory tack of talking up Labour, referred to as the “Queensland Strategy”, to try and persuade people to vote Conservative to provide an opposition to Labour, was laughable. The Tories showed much more interest in fighting each other than opposing Labour.

The results proved me broadly correct, including those late predictions I didn’t publish – though I was surprised about how well the pro-Gaza independents did, unseating the prominent Labour front-bencher Jonathan Ashworth, for example, and nearly doing so to Labour big-hitter Wes Streeting. There were two main surprises for me though. The first was just how low was the overall share of the vote that Labour eventually got (about 35%) – much lower than the polling predictions, and with a much lower lead over the Conservatives (10% compared to a consistent 20%, though this dropped a bit in the last polls). This did not have much impact on the result in seats, though; a lot of this dynamic was happening in safe Labour seats, with Labour supporters moving to Greens and Independents, or not showing up to vote. The other surprise was quite how many seats the Liberal Democrats won. My argument had been that weakness on the ground would place an upper limit on the party’s performance of about 50 seats; in the event they won 72 – and nearly won a slew of others. There is an upper bound to Lib Dem performance – but it’s quite a bit higher than I thought it was. In about half the seats the Lib Dems won, pre-election campaigning was weak – but there was enough local council strength for the party to make the case for tactical votes, and there must also have been a bit of help from the national campaign, which managed to increase support for the party overall, over the course of the campaign (though it ended up in vote share more or less where it was in 2019).

Interestingly, the MRP polls, a big feature of this campaign, did not come off as badly as the ordinary ones, though they made similar mistakes with the overall vote shares for Labour and the Conservatives. The Labour victory was at the lower end of the range of these projections, but at least it was within it. They picked up more of a sense of how efficient the Labour and Lib Dem polling was in electoral terms, and inefficient was that for Reform UK and the Greens. They didn’t see the rise of the independents, and the projections for individual seats were often wayward, especially for the distribution of votes between the parties. As I suggested in my comments during the campaign, they exaggerated Labour strength in Lib Dem targets – allowing many a Labour leaflet to suggest that the party was in contention when it was in fact a distant third.

So the Labour victory was big but shallow, with many close results. Indeed, supporters of the previous leader, Jeremy Corbyn, noted that the party won fewer votes than when their man was leading – making the narrative of why Sir Keir Starmer’s stewardship proved so successful much more complicated than the mainstream explanation suggests. Labour did not win, so much as the Tories lost. Sir Keir Starmer did not win over many people to his party (and he lost a good few), but he did not scare as many Tory voters as his predecessor – allowing them to stay at home or vote for Reform.

To be fair on Sir Keir, he seems to understand the thinness of his mandate. He is not using the scale of his victory to suggest that he has public support for radical policies. He is trying to establish a reputation for competence – something the Conservatives lost in the wake of the Brexit referendum. Labour will, of course, relentlessly blame the country’s “14 years of Tory chaos” – never mind that these followed three years of Labour chaos, and that the first six years were not especially chaotic. But whether it was 8 years of chaos or 14 makes no real difference to voters. This is a sensible strategy. The populist right plan a relentless attack on Labour for being “woke” – attending to the “luxury beliefs” of liberals and the identity politics of some ethnic minority politicians. Sir Keir’s best hope of winning the next election is to contrast the wildness of these attacks with the unfussy competence of reality. Good luck with that. He has the discouraging examples of Francois Hollande in France, and Gerhard Schroder in Germany. Two uncharismatic but competent left-of-centre politicians who were/are unable to manage the stresses of modern politics. Still, those leaders were operating in a very different political systems. So long as Labour can keep the right divided, its chances are good.

On the question of the right, I continue to follow the writings of populist promoter Matt Goodwin. I like him because he is reasonably factual, unlike many of his fellow travellers, who trade in conspiracy theories and lies. He did not have a particularly good election. He was elated by the Reform surge after its leader, Nigel Farage, started to seriously engage in the campaign. He went on to breathlessly call an inflection point, with Reform surpassing the Conservatives, backed up his own polling organisation, which proved by some margin to be the least accurate of all those publishing polls. But then Reform flatlined, and Mr Goodwin started to talk about the French elections instead. Looking back on the election, he is now calling the Reform glass half full. It has indeed peeled off the working class/lower middle class part of the Tory 2019 coalition, but it is making little progress beyond that. The Conservatives outpolled them by 10% – and its much stronger ground organisation showed. A pile of second places is no use in the British electoral system – and you need a strong ground operation to turn those second places into wins – just ask the Liberal Democrats. Complaining about the electoral system doesn’t cut it. The chances of Reform doing that on their own in more than a handful of places looks thin.

That leaves a stalemate on the right. Clearly it needs to rebuild the 2019 coalition, across working class and middle class voters, and in the north, south, east and west of England and Wales. Reform can’t do that. The Conservatives have two strategies open to them: the first is to displace Reform from the ground they now hold, and then rope in the middle classes and professionals later. But that will be hard: they have lost trust, and now that Mr Farage is in parliament he is in a strong position to fight them off – unless they can find a way of bringing him on board. The other strategy is to regain the middle ground, and then attack and squeeze Reform nearer to the next election, rather as David Cameron successfully did in 2015 to Ukip, a Reform forerunner. But Tory grassroots seem to have little patience for such a strategy, and they need somebody to lead it who is untainted by the Johnson, Truss and Sunak regimes – their own Keir Starmer. The likelihood is that the party will tear itself apart while trying to decide. This is Labour’s best hope, as they inevitably get bogged down in the mid-term.

What of the Lib Dems? Their large slew of MPs will give them more money, and more clout in parliament. It is a very different party from the ill-disciplined and eclectic group of local activists of the early 2000s, who often opposed Labour from the left. The centre is much stronger – this year’s campaign was notable for the strength of its central campaign, and consistency of its message across the country. They will seek to consolidate their gains, and build up new prospects. Their campaigning will continue with the same voter-led messages (health, care and the environment). But there is a hunger within the party for something more idealistic, defining what the party is all about. There will also be pressure to ramp up messaging around Europe. Perhaps they are shaping up to be part of a coalition with Labour in 2028/29.

But the big message of this campaign, demonstrated by both Labour and the Lib Dems, and in reverse by Reform and the Greens, is that elections are won by constituency-led targeting. The electoral system is shaping politics as completely as ever. Will electoral reform come back onto the political agenda? There are three broad options. The first is the Alternative Vote, which is not much more than a tweak to the existing system, but one which would allow those disenfranchised Reform and Green voters (to say nothing of third-placed Conservatives and Labour ones) more of a say. This would suit the Conservatives best – the Australian experience is that such a system ultimately reinforces the power to the two main established parties. And yet they united in opposing exactly this system when it was put to a referendum in 2011. The more radical alternative is proportional representation, which would suit Reform and the Greens best. This would have Lib Dem support too, though it is unclear that the party would benefit much, and it also has the support of many Labour grassroots.

But such chatter is irrelevant. The Labour leadership is focused on its core “missions”, which do not include political reform – and turkeys don’t vote for Christmas. Until there is a public groundswell to change the system, as there was in New Zealand in the 1990s, there will be no serious move to change things. The British electorate is very conservative, as that 2011 referendum showed. And if such a groundswell was going to happen, I think it would have happened already. Reform and the Greens need to learn from the Lib Dems and embrace local politics.