This week Rachel Reeves, Britain’s chancellor of the Exchequer, delivered the first strategic Budget the country has had since George Osborne’s in March 2016, unless you count Kwasi Kwarteng’s short-lived effort in Autumn 2022. Mr Osborne’s effort was, of course, simply maintaining the strategic course he set when he first became Chancellor in 2010, and on which doubled-down in 2015 once he’d dispensed with his Liberal Democrat coalition partners – a strategy usually referred to as “Austerity”. That was to shrink of the British state’s footprint, reversing the trend established by Labour, especially from its second term starting in 2001. Ms Reeves is reaffirming the role of the state, but whether that is simply consolidation or a decisive expansion remains unclear. What is over is the firefighting, bluff and pretence of the years 2016 to 2024; there is now a serious engagement with the challenges confronting Britain.
Mr Osborne’s budget of 2016 was quickly overwhelmed by the Brexit referendum in the following June, which saw a new prime minister, Theresa May, and Chancellor, Philip Hammond. They rejected the Osborne strategy with a turn against Austerity. But the mess left by the referendum result was not conducive to clear strategy, as nobody really understood what the result meant. Was it the creation of a small-state “Singapore on Thames” as many senior Brexiteers wanted, or just a grumpy turning inwards? Any chance of the new government coalescing around a coherent strategy was destroyed when it lost its majority in the snap election of 2017. A new government emerged under Boris Johnson in 2019, but his strategy was to have his cake and eat it – to avoid any difficult choices: a strategy not to have a strategy. Liz Truss and Mr Kwarteng took over in 2022, and although they did appear to be strategic, their efforts collapsed almost before they had started. The Rishi Sunak and Jeremy Hunt regime’s only strategy was to try to survive until their political fortunes turned. They pushed through cuts to National Insurance based on fictional forecasts of future government spending. It was fundamentally unserious.
Labour’s first job after taking power in July was to restore those public spending estimates to some kind of reality, without sparking the kind of panic over fiscal probity that Mr Kwarteng had done. They made this job much harder because they chose to humour the Conservatives’ fiction on the public finances rather than challenge it. They promised not to raise taxes on “working people”, and specifically not Income Tax, National Insurance or Value Added Tax. Since taking power they then suggested that they had discovered a surprise “black hole” of over £20 billion, or perhaps £40 billion. But mostly this was known about before the election – and repeatedly pointed to by the Institute for Fiscal Studies. But no political party addressed the issue properly – not the Lib Dems, Reform UK or the Greens, never mind the main two parties. All said that public services could be maintained based on implausible taxes on other people, or equally implausible cuts to benefits. Ms Reeves decided that raising employer National Insurance was not too egregious a breach of election pledges, and went for that. This raises the overall tax take to its highest ever level as a ratio to income, but well within European levels. Whether this really means the largest extent of the state ever, I suspect, depends on how you treat benefits, which is more of a negative tax than a part of the state apparatus, and which have been steadily creeping upwards. But looking ahead beyond the next two years, Ms Reeves continued her predecessors’ fictions on public spending, and cut safety margins to nothing, in order to demonstrate medium term financial targets were being met.
That was because the Office for Budget Responsibility (OBR) forecast meagre growth. Labour’s plans had always been based on improved economic growth – but they cannot give the OBR anything solid enough to raise their forecast. A lot of growth comes from the zeitgeist, out of reach to policymakers and economic forecasters alike. And many of the government’s pro-growth policies have yet to be worked out. Landing a big extra tax burden on businesses in the short term, moving to workers medium term, leaves a bit of a credibility gap there, and it’s hard not to think that Ms Reeves is relying on a positive change to the zeitgeist to get her out of the hole.
Still, the government was never going to solve its economic challenges in one go. This budget is seen as a necessary first step, setting a credible baseline from which to move forward. To me that is a convincing enough narrative, but one that clearly leaves many questions. I have already mentioned growth. Social care is an issue that overshadows all health and welfare spending – and even the Tories attempted to tackle it on occasion – but it has so far been ignored by the government. The government wants to increase the efficiency of government services – but so has every government I can remember: what makes this time different? And many stretched government services, notably those within the remit of local government, are getting little if any extra funding: how sustainable is that?
The one thing going for the government is that expectations are dismal – it will not be so hard to beat them. They aren’t making the mistake that Mr Johnson made in 2019. A good run of luck could change the climate completely.
For me the jury is still out on this government. This Budget isn’t a bad start by Ms Reeves, but many more tests are to come.
“Don’t bet against the American economy,” says The Economist in a recent special report. I understand where that sentiment is coming from. Over the years I have read many prophesies of doom, or at least of decline, for that economy, and often found them persuasive. On each occasion they have proved false. Two thoughts have struck me from this report: first that America’s success can’t be replicated by Europe, and that Europeans shouldn’t try; and second that America’s economic success, paradoxically, lies at the heart of its toxic politics. It is that last paradox which might cause the American success to unravel, as, to be fair, the report acknowledges.
My first insight flows from the principle of comparative advantage – a core economic insight originally articulated by David Riccardo in the 18th/19th Century. It is part of Economics 101, and is the critical idea about what drives international trade, and why such trade is mutually beneficial even if one economy imports stuff that it could make more efficiently for itself. It’s all about opportunity costs, as more modern language than Riccardo’s would have it. At a strategic level the theory of comparative advantage has massive predictive power – explaining so much of the world economy as we see it, including, for example, why exchange rates don’t match purchasing power parity. But as you try to get into more detailed, and tactically useful, predictions, economists have been unable to turn it into anything more precise, in spite of one or two attempts. Therefore it is left out the economic models that drive so much of the work of economists, and it does not progress beyond Economics 101. That is why so many economists, not least writers at The Economist, often forget that it is there and seem ignorant of how it actually plays out. So far as I can see, the great (and late) economist Paul Samuelson is one of the very few economists of modern times to properly have internalised its implications. He it was who pointed out that as undeveloped economies converged with advanced ones, the gains from trade between them would diminish, at the expense of the advanced economies. This does much to explain the relative economic stagnation of advanced economies since the financial crash of 2007-09, compared with the era of rampant globalisation before it (which happened after Samuelson died, having forecast it) – though there are other factors, not least demographics. And yet this is never mentioned amid the wringing of hands about the backlash against global trade, which is generally blamed on politics alone. And yet the invisible hand is so often behind the politics.
I have a another insight arising from Riccardo’s thesis. America’s recent success compared to Europe, as The Economist‘s report points out, is based on high-tech industries, where productivity has soared, while it has plodded elsewhere. This success is surely based on the scale of America’s market, and the relatively lack of legal and cultural barriers to trade and the movement of labour. This is clearly a source of comparative advantage over Europe – though not to China, which has a very similar advantage. This means that the relative productivity of the tech sector compared to others (making aircraft, for example) is always going to be greater in America than in Europe, apart from a few specialist niches. That will drive America to specialise in hi-tech industry, while Europe’s direct competitors will diminish – to the benefit of both, as an Economics 101 student can readily explain. If this the way of the invisible hand, then why does The Economist (and such luminaries as Mario Draghi the EU éminence grise with an economics training) spend so much time bemoaning Europe’s lagging hi-tech industry and urging it to to try harder? Economically literate politicians, like Mr Draghi, often do this sort of thing because it is a convenient argument for policies that are actually about economic efficiency in general . Journalists in more sophisticated publications have no such excuse. Europe is never going to match America, or China for that matter, in some areas and it will be a waste of effort trying. Meanwhile they are doing well enough exporting the many products where they do have comparative advantage – Europe does not operate with a large trade deficit, after all. Of course European leaders must keep trying to improve economic efficiency, and perhaps watching America will act as a spur, but a clearer understanding of the workings of comparative advantage would mean better-directed public investment.
Back to America. The Economist does not fail to attribute some of America’s success to an entrepreneurial zeitgeist – but it points to more solid factors too. First is that it has comparative advantage in industries that happen to be highly productive – not just in hi-tech, but also oil and gas. The former advantage stems from the size and flexibility of America’s product and labour markets – something that only China matches (India seems to be closer to Europe in this respect); the latter from a geological endowment. That’s all very well, but it creates tensions. The successful industries take off, but the corollary is that many others are left behind – and through the laws of comparative advantage – become less internationally competitive (as the dollar strengthens, and as they have to pay workers more to compete with the more productive sectors). This creates what Donald Trump calls “American carnage” – the flip side to economic flexibility, as factories close and more productive workers flee to the booming parts of the country. How much the imbalance between globally successful industries and the mainstream is driving high inequality is an interesting question. The Economist suggests that the poorest quintile has seen significant income growth in recent years with tighter labour markets – but in the middle of the income distribution there may be more stagnation – as the higher income groups continue to do fabulously. But if things happen quickly in America, the human cost is going to be high. Rapid growth breeds “carnage”.
A further source of advantage, according to The Economist, is access to large numbers of immigrants, and not least those flooding across the southern border. This seems to act as a lubricant: jobs get filled more quickly in the growing parts of the economy. Europe has immigrants too (though not China) but finds these harder to integrate. And yet this is a central driver to the country’s toxic politics.
And so the rapid change to the structure of the US economy, and the flood of immigrants that its success attracts, are driving a sense of dislocation among Americans, which in turn is driving the highly destructive direction of US politics. This is placing all its critical institutions under threat. Four dangers lurk in particular: the capture of US institutions by a big business elite (“rent-seeking” in economic jargon); rolling back international trade through tariffs and other measures; clamping down on immigration; and finally macroeconomic instability arising from public finances going out of control.
The concentration of big business, leading to capture of the political system and the corruption of institutions to protect established business from competition (often in the name of social stability), is a familiar process. We see variations of it in many places (although sometimes, as in Russia and Hungary, the relationship between political leader and business elite is more complex) – and , indeed, it is alleged to have happened in America in the late 19th Century. The concentration is happening in America now, as is the business elite’s dabbling in politics (most egregiously by Elon Musk) – but The Economist does not think it is leading to significant anti-competitive practices. Competition between the major hi-tech companies remains intense and the pace of innovative product development is hardly slowing. We might raise eyebrows about the way money buys influence in the US, but it does not appear to be a big threat to the US economy.
The backlash against foreign trade is a more substantive concern and especially the advocacy of tariffs. This seems to be mainly driven by Donald Trump – and as such it is one of his most distinctive contributions to economic policy – but the Democrats are copying him. It is hard to see how such policies will do much to help the American public – their main effect will be to raise costs. However it may not do much damage to the main drivers of US economic health: the technology giants and the oil and gas industries. It is not good news for the rest of the world, however, especially Europe.
Anti-immigration will also probably not hurt as much as it could – unless Mr Trump is actually tries to fulfil his campaign rhetoric about mass deportation. The Economist is also quite sanguine about the impact of public budget deficits, which few politicians seem to be taking seriously. There remains little threat to the US Dollar as the world’s preeminent currency, and hence the ease with which dollar finance can be obtained.
Still, there does seem to be an unhealthy cycle here. Growth in the American economy remains robust, but it is driving US society apart. Politicians and commentators alike focus on the choices at the next election, always described as the most important in modern times. But neither side is able to deliver a killer blow to the other. If Mr Trump wins next week’s election, his movement will have to find ways to survive his departure, amid the inevitable chaos of his administration. If Kamala Harris wins it is hard to see that she can convince Trump supporters that she is taking America along the right course, continuing to fuel the destructive radicalism of the right. One way or another this political toxicity will surely affect the astonishing robustness and resilience of the US economy that is one of its main drivers.
My life being what it is, my posting on this site will remain erratic. I do take time thinking about my posts and composing them – so I have to make time while juggling with other things. After an absence of over a month, I am planning to run a series of posts here on the British political parties after the election of July. We have entered a period of multi-party politics, with no less than six parties able to have a significant impact on the next General Election (Labour, Conservatives, Liberal Democrats, Reform UK, Greens and the Scottish National Party – I am perhaps being a bit dismissive of Plaid Cymru). I plan to have a look at each of these six.
I start with the Liberal Democrats, the party I know best. I joined its predecessor the SDP in 1981, and my membership has been continuous ever since. I have been active as a local party officer (Treasurer and Chair) and election agent. I have served as Treasurer of the London party, and on a couple of policy working groups. And I have attended many party conferences, though not this year. I am no longer very active locally, but I do belong to the party’s Federal Audit and Scrutiny Committee – so do regularly exchange with senior officials of the party, albeit only tangentially on the subject of political strategy. I gave the current leader, Ed Davey, his Chair’s reference so that he could stand as a parliamentary candidate in Kingston, before he first won the seat in 1997. I’m no outside observer, but I will try to comment as if I was – with a bit of inside knowledge. As a member of the family, though, I will refer to the main protagonists by the first names.
The party managed a superb result in July, with 72 MPS, the best result for it or predecessor parties since the days when the Liberals were a party of government a century ago. This was delivered on the basis of a relatively modest share of the vote (about 13%) that was actually a small decline on its previous performance. This has added immeasurably to its stature; it is taken much more seriously by the outside world, and its supporters are happy. It feels like a big moment for the party, which for the past five years has been teetering on the edge of extinction and irrelevance, and it poses the big question of who the party is and what it is for. It is worth looking at this in the context of the party’s history.
When the party was created in the aftermath of the 1987 election, from a merger of the Liberals with the SDP, the party was at a very low ebb. Its fortunes revived under the leadership of Paddy Ashdown. Paddy wanted the party to matter. It was his aim to enter government in coalition if he could, and to influence government even if that wasn’t feasible. As New Labour emerged under the leadership of Tony Blair he saw an opportunity to influence that party in a future government by working alongside it in opposition to the Conservatives. In the 1997 election Labour won a landslide, and needed the support of no other party. But it was a breakthrough election for the Lib Dems too (winning over 46 seats, up from 20 in 1992, although with a lower vote share). There continued to be a relationship with Labour, and it was possible to see Lib Dem influence, especially on constitutional matters. But the relationship was going nowhere. Labour did not see the need for it. Tony Blair was “unpersuaded” by the case for electoral reform for parliamentary elections, the Lib dems central objective. Paddy resigned and was replaced by Charles Kennedy.
Some people in the party look back on Charles’s leadership as a bit of a golden age. The Conservatives remained unpopular and the party was able to harvest disaffectedLabour voters. But there was muddle at the heart of it. This period peaked in the 2005 election, when the party won 65 seats, on the back of Labour unpopularity over the Gulf War in particular. With the third successive substantial result for the party, it seemed to be part of the Westminster furniture. And as MPs retired they were replaced, not by local activists as had been the way before, but by political professionals working internal politics, in the manner of the Labour and Conservative parties. There seemed to be (almost) such a thing as safe Lib Dem seats, not so attached to the personal local standing of the MP. These political professionals started to dominate the parliamentary party, and one of them, Nick Clegg, became its leader. The objective of these professionals was clear: to enter government in coalition, so that they could shape policy. This seemed like the natural next step in the party’s growth and maturity. But its offer to the public was not a clear one. To insiders the party was bound by its liberal and internationalist values, but this was less important to voters.
In 2010 the party did well to hold onto 57 seats in the face of a resurgent Conservative Party. With a hung parliament, this was the moment the professionals had been looking for: they entered coalition with David Cameron’s Conservatives. The party made a solid contribution to this government – it is striking how many successes over the 14 years of Conservative-led government have the party’s fingerprints (renewable power and gay marriage, for example), and how things went wrong after the party left (Brexit…). But the party’s left-leaning supporters felt bitterly betrayed. This was especially deep for three groups in particular: students, let down by the introduction of tuition fees in spite of promises made during the election; public and third-sector workers, who developed hostility to austerity, which threatened their jobs, into a near-religion; and working class voters, shocked at the party’s support for Tories. Nearly half the party’s support vanished almost overnight. Then the Conservatives, sensing weakness, pulled won over many of the rest by playing on the fear that the party would let Labour in. The 2015 election was a massacre – the party only just hung on to 8 seats. Third place in parliament went to the SNP. Like Icarus, the party had flown too close to the sun and were punished for their impudence.
The party managed something of a revival following Brexit, as the party most committed to opposing it, recovering to 12 seats in the 2017 election. New members flooded in. Under Jo Swinson, another of the 2005 intake, though somebody that had to win her seat from Labour rather than walking into a held seat, the party doubled down on its opposition to Brexit, while Labour vacillated and the Conservatives turned into hardline Brexiteers. The party launched a well-funded campaign in the December 2019 election suggesting that they might lead any government that emerged – as way of avoiding the question of which of the others they preferred. But they flew too close to the sun again, and support melted: they were limited to 11 seats, in spite of decent vote share by post-2015 standards. The high hopes of many members at the start of the campaign were crushed; quite apart from the party’s own poor performance, Boris Johnson’s victory meant that Brexit would indeed be “done” – something that they had become passionate about.
Ed Davey took over at this low point. It needs to be remembered that he has witnessed all this history first hand. I first remember him when he moved into our local party area in the late 1980s; for some reason I have it my mind that he was ex-SDP, though he must have moved in after the merger. He was working as an economist at the British computer company ICL (which was later subsumed into Fujitsu) but not long afterwards he took up a position as an economics researcher for the central party. He then became the parliamentary candidate in the Liberal council stronghold of Kingston, where he enthusiastically adopted the Liberal style of community politics, and won a striking victory in 1997, when his seat wasn’t one of the official targets (it didn’t stop me going to help…). He witnessed the evolution of the party in the period of its significant presence in opposition from 1997 to 2010, but he wasn’t part of the intake of 2005, who did so much to shape the culture of the parliamentary party. Nevertheless he became a minister in the Coalition, eventually at cabinet rank – and appeared to be having the time of his life. He took to being a minister like a duck to water. A lot of the credit for Britain’s remarkable progress on renewable energy is down to him, though he was building on groundwork laid by Chris Huhne. But he lost his seat in the 2015 massacre, though he won it back in 2017. I worked with him on fundraising for the Lib Dem London Assembly campaign of 2016, where his wife was a candidate.
Ed is not for flying close to the sun, unlike his predecessors Nick and Jo. The party reorganised with a highly professional Chief Executive, Mike Dixon, recruited from the charity sector (by Jo, to give credit where it is due). It focused on the mundane issues that were the primary concern of voters: health and social care, sewage pollution, and so on. It concentrated resources on areas where the party already showed strength – primarily in Conservative-held suburbia. Strong message discipline was developed; activists were encouraged to knock on doors to talk to voters. The reward, in July, was beyond all but the wildest dreams of activists (Lib Dems can dream wildly). This, of course, was a question of capitalising on the opportunities made by the other parties – especially the Conservatives and SNP, but Labour helped by not scaring voters. But experienced Lib Dems know all too well about having an opportunity and fluffing it during the campaign. Many of the victories were massive. In a parliament where there are an unusual number of close results, and MPs with under 40% vote share, the Lib Dems are in a relatively comfortable position (although there are a few close results, of course). They would have done extremely well even if Reform UK had not spit the Conservative vote. There are not many second-placed seats left, though I live in one of them. This sizeable number of MPs looks eminently defendable, though in some places campaign infrastructure needs to be built.
So, where on earth does the party go from here? The message from Ed is to show humility, and to keep working on the themes that party campaigned for – it is important to maintain the trust of the electorate. But how do you expand on such a good result, and what is the party building up its parliamentary presence for?
The party itself is more coherent than at its previous high of 2005. Its MPs look distinctly professional, and it draws a huge amount of its support from professional people. The working class supporters it used to attract have not returned, by and large. It is a party of middle class angst. When populists like Matt Goodwin rage against the “elite” and their “luxury beliefs”, they include people like Lib Dem supporters, who, in fact, are frustrated with their powerlessness. They want the country back in the European Union; they look sympathetically at the plight of refugees; they want to confront the black spots in British history; they wouldn’t mind a bit if an Indian or African family, or a gay one, moved in next door; they want state schools to promote these values. But these values do not have mass appeal. In polls the Lib Dem vote share hovers in the range of 10-15% and never beyond.
Still, there are two electoral opportunities. One is to keep mining from the seam that has already given so much: disaffected Conservatives. That party has to scratch the populist itch, and chase voters that supported Reform, the Lib Dems’ polar opposite. More liberal and pragmatic Conservatives will surely continue their exodus. And then there are disaffected Labour supporters. There are bound to be a number as the government faces grim choices on public spending, and the more liberal must choose between the Lib Dems and the Greens. There are very few Labour seats that are realistic targets for the Lib Dems, but attracting Labour supporters will help secure the Lib Dems’ existing gains, and even to pick off a few more Conservatives (for example in the seat where I live, East Grinstead and Uckfield, where Labour has a significant vote). In some relatively affluent middle class suburbs where the party is still third, they might be able to move to second place, to either party.
Some of the party’s members want to attack a distinctly conservative Labour government from the left – as they believe Charles Kennedy’s party did in the Blair years. But that risks putting off many of the voters that the party has drawn from the Conservatives. The party can push for closer integration with Europe, however – such as joining the Customs Union or even the Single Market. The party can’t afford to ignore people who voted for Brexit, but it is not nearly so much of a problem for them as it is for Labour. Brexit is widely seen as a disappointment, and the number of people who voted for it is in steady demographic decline. One day the party might even talk about rejoining the EU – but that remains a long way off. If there is an upwelling of support for electoral reform, the Lib Dems are ready to embrace it. Beyond that I don’t any big shifts in campaigning themes.
What’s it all for? The Liberal Democrats are a natural party of government, even if they so rarely exercise power. They are happy to engage in conversations about the sort of compromises needed to make things happen – it’s part of the mindset of a professional, perhaps. At conferences activists discuss detailed proposals for policy as if power was round the corner – to the incredulity of outsiders. And where the party controls councils, it is very pragmatic. For example, a neighbouring council to where I live is refusing planning permission for local housing developments regardless of their merit, and it is suffering fines as a result, because of implacable opposition by the Greens and Conservatives alike. Lib Dems protest that this is nonsense – the fines take away resources from desperately stretched public services. And they know that the shortage of housing is extreme. Instead they want to engage with the planning process and allow some developments and while opposing others. This pragmatism contrasts with the Conservatives, who gradually became a party of protest, even while in government.
That pragmatism will manifest itself with measured opposition at the national level, compared to hysteria from the Conservatives and Reform. But it only goes so far. The party is not engaging with the critical economic debate on how to balance taxes, public services and benefits. And how to balance the demographic need for immigration with the pressure it puts on infrastructure such as housing. Instead they complain about pressure on public services and cuts to benefits, while only suggesting half-baked gimmicks to raise extra taxes. This, of course, copies Labour strategy before the election – but the party shows no sign of engaging with the difficult policy choices that any government must face.
But the party now has an army of MPs, which will be supported by an even bigger army of paid researchers and the like. They will want something more than mere political survival. In my view the party needs to aim for working in coalition with Labour after the next election, if that party’s majority vanishes, as well it might. Perhaps it is still too early to think of such things, and the party needs to learn the lessons of the previous coalition episode. It would help if the party was on the up, and entering coalition from a position of strength.
Ultimately, if the party can’t fly close to the sun, it is unclear why it should exist. How far Ed recognises this I don’t know. But he does know how important it is to ascend with humility. And I am sure he is right there.
